The Luxury of the 'Ordinary' on Our Plates
From the kitchens of Curepipe to the gardens of Rivière-des-Créoles, the high cost of living not only empties wallets but also reshapes our plates. As Mauritians navigate mental calculations at the checkout and make silent sacrifices for their children, they are learning the art of survival.
Natasha: “We make do with what we have.”
At 30 years old, Natasha Mathurin is a mother of four children aged 2 to 13. Living in Anse Jonchée, her life has taken on a bitter taste under the burden of inflation driven by international crises. Feeding her family daily has become a balancing act against an empty shopping cart.
Not long ago, Rs 1,500 could fill pantries with provisions and stock the "tant bazar" with fruits and vegetables. Today, that same amount vanishes after just a few essential items. What was once "ordinary" has become a privilege, Natasha confides to Le Dimanche/L’Hebdo. “We have to think carefully about every purchase, weigh each need, and often, with a heavy heart, leave items behind.”
In the evening, the table is modest: a bowl of rice, a clear broth, some vegetables gathered at the best price, and sometimes a can to add substance to the meal. “At our home, we make do with what we can,” she admits.
When masonry work becomes scarce for her husband, the Mathurin family turns to the ocean. The sea then becomes their last bulwark against hunger. Fish replaces meat, which has become unaffordable, and part of the catch is sold to cover daily expenses.
"Mental calculation has become a shield to avoid the humiliation of putting an item back at the checkout," Natasha says. She mentally adds up every rupee before even crossing the line. On her roof, she also cultivates hope with seeds recovered that grow into plants providing vegetables that enrich their plates with nutrients every day.
As for family solidarity, it is total. In her household, there are no individual sacrifices on proteins; everything is shared equally among mom, dad, and the kids. “If the dish is sparse, we improvise with social assistance, odd jobs, and resourcefulness,” she explains.
While hunger has not yet won, fatigue has set in. Natasha talks about a mental exhaustion born from the constant necessity to recalculate every budget. Outings are sacrificed because the absolute priority remains eating. This precariousness, however, leaves its marks. Her eldest son, in his teenage years, sometimes shows signs of fatigue and concentration difficulties. An alarm signal that Natasha tries to counteract with the "magic" of the weekend, where she strives to cook a more special meal to maintain the illusion of a normal life and preserve her children's joy.
Despite fourteen years of fruitless waiting for social housing (NHDC), Natasha refuses to give up. Between hunting for promotions on store shelves and her husband's calloused hands braving the sea, the Mathurin family holds strong. “I do not regret the excesses of the past. I have learned to adapt, to reinvent the table, and to find dignity in every seed planted. My struggle is no longer just to fill stomachs but to nourish the hope of a lighter tomorrow,” she simply states.