Ojove: A Northern staple

THE generous marula tree provides a household staple to most homes in the northern region, where the marula oil – or ojove, as it is known locally – is as crucial to any respectable kitchen as salt is.

According to Paulina Mangudu, a passionate ambassador of the Ohangwena Region, and her neighbouring northern regions, wanted to show Namibians how marula oil is produced.The fruits of the marula tree ripen early in February and the last in April. The marula fruits are a wonder of nature, as they not only provide fruit, but, in the entrepreneurial hands of the Oshiwambo women, they are used to produce marula wine, marula oil, snacks and, eventually, fuel for the home fires.The marula fruit consists of an outer layer of fleshy fruit, in which is hidden a remarkable kernel – the kernel, once it’s tough outer layer is cracked, harbours nuts which resemble peanuts. These nuts are the ingredient that women transform into the marula oil – ojove.Meekulu Wilhelmiena ‘Kakwaki’ Haimbodi, a former teacher, and her granddaughter, Tuleipo Kanya, who live in Ohakwenyanga village close to Ongwediva, demonstrated the fine art, and the difficult, backbreaking work that goes into producing the beloved ojove. Mangudu, who is also the Procurement and Stock Control Officer at the Eenhana Regional Council, eagerly jumped in to help, and to show of her skills too.At first, the hard kernel is balanced on the sharp edge of an axe and with a handheld, wooden hammer (oshitendo), the women crack open the robust shell. Inside, the nuts are clearly visible.The next step is to extract the nuts, which is done swiftly by Meekulu Haimbodi, using a metal instrument resembling a crocheting needle. Hours later, the women will have filled a bowl with enough nuts to begin the process of extracting the oil from the nuts.Kanya demonstrated how the nuts are carefully mixed with water to extract the oil.Kanya first puts a few handful of nuts into an ‘oshini’, an oblong wooden container. Then she mixes water, but only a little at a time, into the nutty mixture and begins pounding the mixture with an ‘omushi’, a long wooden stick. Eventually, after water has been added every few minutes, the light brown mixture turns dark brown, which, according to Mangudu, is a sign that the oil is seeping out of the nuts.Once Kanya is satisfied, she uses the bottom of the wooden pounder to separate the solid leftover nuts from the oily liquid. She deftly uses the omushi – stick – to form a long ‘sausage’ of nuts at the side of the oshini, while at the same time pressing the last molecules of oil out of the solids. Once the last oil has been pressed out of the nuts, the ‘sausage’ is removed – this in turn is eaten as a snack by children and adults alike – and the oil is put into a pot.The oil is slowly, and very carefully heated, to allow the water to evaporate from the mixture. If the oil is heated too quickly, it can burn. Also, the women stir the mixture continuously.Meekulu Haimbodi and Mangudu remember their mother’s stern warning not to spill any of the oil out of the pot while it is boiling.’You must carefully stir – we were taught no oil must be spilled – it’s a very bad omen.’Mangudu admits that perhaps this was a clever superstition concocted by mothers to ensure the oil is not spilled ‘after all the hard work.’Once the oil has boiled it is put into containers and kept close to the kitchen – where it becomes part and parcel of the generous hospitality that is a hallmark of the northern kitchen’s of Namibia.

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