“We won’t be around in the village tomorrow,” said a fit-looking woman from Ama.

“Oh, why not?” I asked.

“We are going to make saksak,” replied a handful of other women with remarkable muscle tone and hands as tough as leather.

“Can I come with you?” I asked eagerly.

And so began my adventure of helping the local women make saksak, their staple food derived from the processed starch of the sago palm. Saksak is often eaten with coconut, greens or meat that they can obtain in the jungle or waterways. It is a starch that can be cooked with water into the consistency of gelatin or tapioca, or fried in a pan over a fire and eaten like a dry, rubbery pancake. I have eaten saksak before—but this would be my first time helping make it.

A couple of hours after sunrise, the women came to get me. I was equipped with my water bottle and sunscreen. The women had the rest of the tools they needed—machetes, an ax, a pot, and a trough made from dried sago leaves. They also carried a few other items, including a wooden triangle-shaped tool for pounding the pith of the sago palm. After walking together for about 30 minutes, we crossed a stream and stopped to drop off some of the tools at a small house that belonged to one of their relatives.

“We wash the saksak here,” I was told as we forded a small creek. But we kept walking deeper into the bush (actually, dense jungle) until we eventually arrived at a previously felled sago palm. This is where that triangle-shaped tool came in handy.
The women started using a stick sharpened on one end to pry the bark off after splitting the palm a little with the axe. CRACK! came the sound.

When one of the women set down her stick to do something else, I quickly picked it up and started to help. Some of the women tried to tell me I did not need to do anything.

“Let her help if she wants to,” said my new friend R. She understood my desire to help and learn. The rest of the day, they let me do as much or as little as I wanted to help them, but I stuck close to R. While I have a lot to learn about the culture and ways of the Ama, they are also learning about my openness to learn from them and experience their way of life. It’s something new for all of us.

The ladies pounded their triangular tools, mincing the tree pulp into a sawdust-like substance. Over the next three or four hours, R and I traded off this part of the process with the other women. Unaccustomed to this motion for so long, I developed a blister that popped and bled. Still, I would not be deterred . . .

“How will they get all this pulp to the stream?” I wondered. I soon saw the women scoop the pulp into their homemade troughs. Hoisting these onto their backs, they supported the weight with tree vines draped across their foreheads. Each full trough probably weighed over 50 pounds, which was too heavy for me to lift!

Whack! Whack! I heard as the ladies used their machetes to crack open some fresh coconuts, making the refreshing drink inside available to us all.

The sago tree stems, shaped like a trough, are used not only for carrying the saksak but also for rinsing, and I could hear a swooshing sound as they washed the sago starch with creek water. At the lower end of one of these bark troughs, they placed another piece of bark that looked like a sieve. Under this, they placed some big dried-out leaves to serve as a nice, large bucket.
The process would begin with the ladies placing several gallons of the sago dust in the uppermost trough. Into this, the women then poured water until a milky starch and toxin-rich substance ran through the trough and into the lower leaf-bucket. As the starch settled to the bottom, the excess rinse water carried the toxins away. We spent hours rinsing the pulp like this. Whenever the rinse water ran pretty clear, we would change the pulp in the top trough and start over. I liked how we took turns rinsing the pulp.

“Grrr . . . grrr . . .” I could hear my stomach growl. Was I the only one hungry? Apparently not! One of the women grabbed some sticks and started a little fire to cook some bright-red aren (Arenga pinnata or sugar palm) that she had brought with her. Aren looks like a big, round stalk about 1.5 feet long and up to six inches in diameter, with red, seed-like pods around it, similar to how a sunflower has seeds nestled close together. Once the aren had cooked down, everyone ate from the same pot using the same spoon. Realizing they had kindly made this for me to share with them, I mustered up the hygienic courage to at least dip my finger into the pot and try it, even though this was but another step out of my comfort zone. It was good—savory, with a rather oily consistency.

After our meal, it still took some time to wash all the saksak pulp. By then, the sun was lowering in the west. After draining all the water from the top of the saksak and scooping the remaining starch, the ladies split the saksak among everyone who helped. Each woman put her share on her back and headed down the path to her home. Feeling I could safely carry the kettle and axe, I helped bring these back with the group of women.

Upon arriving at their homes, each woman thoroughly dried out her starch to prevent bacterial growth. To eat it, they add boiling water to make a thickened tapioca-like mixture. Although often eaten plain, sometimes they add coconut, bananas or aren and serve it with other items they have grown or hunted.

I am thankful to have a better understanding of how the Ama people live and eat, and for the new friends I have made in the process. Thank you for your prayers and support that make these new and unique experiences possible for Sean and me as God helps bind our hearts to these amazing and resourceful people. More adventures await us both.

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