The wicked problem of local food for tourism development in the Global South

There is a persisting myth in the tourism development sphere about tourists travelling to faraway places, curious to eat local food and by doing so, supporting local farmers. This has given way to the notion that providing local food in tourism destinations of the Global South is a triple win: Firstly, it provides much needed income for smallholder farmers (of which there are many in the Global South). Secondly, chefs can work with fresh local produce that build a consistent, high-quality basis for their menus. Lastly, tourists from the Global North can savour fresh local delicacies. As convincing as this may sound in theory, there is unfortunately only anecdotal scientific evidence to suggest that ‘local food for local development’ in a Global South tourism context indeed works. My own observations from a research project in Fiji further corroborate this finding. This opinion piece elaborates on the intricacies of local food systems in small island development states and challenges the concept that matching local agricultural production with tourism industry demands is beneficial for local communities.

To begin with, the local food for local development concept is based on a number of misconceptions. The average Global North tourist may claim to be interested in foreign cuisines and might pay lip service to the attractiveness of ‘travelling with one’s palate’, but when it comes to spending a week or more in an unfamiliar environment, many travellers resort back to what they know. Most likely this will be steaks, burgers, pizzas, pasta, salads, sandwiches, fish and chips and continental breakfast – or rather: the typical Global North restaurant menu. Foreign local dishes are mostly banned to somewhat traditional ‘local night buffets’, where tourists might sample the odd localised dish, before going for fish and chips at the pool bar the next day.

Another assumption is that wherever tourists go, even in the most remote areas, there exists some form of a ‘local cuisine’ that is capable of transforming local products into mouth-watering dishes that so happen to please the majority of Western palates and look good on social media posts. Most countries of the Global South have a history of colonialization, political destabilisation , pov“Ghost kitchens (also labelled as ‘dark or shared kitchens’, ‘delivery-only kitchens’, ‘cloud kitchens’ or ‘virtual kitchens’) is one of those innovations which became, almost overnight, a pillar to food supply in urban environments. In those same urban centers, operating a stand-alone restaurant has become extremely challenging for a multitude of reasons and most notably high operational and financial gearing due to heavy lease agreements, licensing and regulatory requirements and labour costs.”erty and environmental degradation. Therefore, local cuisines are often a creolisation of remnants of indigenous food culture, goods introduced throughout the colonial history, international trade and the limitations set by pervasive poverty, especially in rural areas. For example, locals in South Pacific island states are known to favour imported tinned tuna with rice over their own local reef fish with root crops. Often they sell their local catch to exporters, intermediaries, or restaurants to provide income for families. A share of this income is then spend on cheap items from the local grocery stores – rice and tinned tuna. Tinned meats, such as corned beef or spam, are ubiquitous in South Pacific households and as much a relic of colonial times as they are a product of economic hardship. Indeed, anyone wondering what ‘local cuisine’ really means in these countries needs to visit the houses of local villages. Here one will likely find a mixture of dishes that resemble the country’s history, but not necessarily what glossy tourism brochures conjure up in the minds of tourists.

“To begin with, the local food for local development concept is based on a number of misconceptions. The average Global North tourist may claim to be interested in foreign cuisines and might pay lip service to the attractiveness of ‘travelling with one’s palate’, but when it comes to spending a week or more in an unfamiliar environment, many travellers resort back to what they know.” Due to the lack of a local cuisine that suits the wishes of tourists, restaurants serve the Global North restaurant classics. One could argue, nevertheless, that this could still drive a local food network and channel tourism dollars into poor rural communities. In order to cook typical Global North standards, however, chefs need red tomatoes, green crispy lettuce, straight green cucumbers, firm potatoes and so forth. These are all items that one might expect to find in any supermarket or restaurant in Europe or North America, for example. It is often assumed that these produce can be grown anywhere in the world at the same quality and quantity standards. That is another drastic misconception. The amount of agricultural knowledge and mechanisation that goes into growing a consistent supply of, for example, tomatoes, year-around at a steady quality level far exceeds the capacity of most smallholder farmers in the Global South. The establishment of irrigation systems, shade houses and soil management systems; the acquisition and correct application of hybrid seed material, pesticides, herbicides and fungicides; and finally the adherence to specific harvest and post-harvest handling procedures takes an incredible amount of training, knowledge and capital – not to speak of stable political and social circumstances. More traditional local crops, such as the root crops yams, taro and cassava, on the other side, rarely feature on Global North menus and are thus not sought-after by restaurants which cater to tourists. Therefore, there is little money to be made for local farmers, even though these kind of crops would far better match local climatic conditions and traditional farming methods . Those farmers that try to grow what tourists like to eat often fail, because they do not manage to grow the right variety at the right quality in a consistent fashion. For instance, not every potato species makes for good French fries – the tourist’s potato dish of choice. Some orange varieties have a green skin and not an orange one and are therefore rejected. There exists a countless number of banana varieties, but only the Cavendish banana is what most tourists are used to. Nevertheless, some farmers might be willing and have the means to try their luck with growing what the tourism industry actually wants. For instance, in Fiji a number of farmers have done well with growing basil, capsicum and cherry tomatoes, after being convinced by intermediaries of the idea and supported by international aid agencies. Restaurant chefs were happy to buy locally, pay decent prices and stop importing these items. A triple win, at last?

Enter COVID-19. Globally, international tourist numbers are estimated to drop by 60 to 80 percent in 2020 compared to last year (UNWTO, May 2020). In Fiji, international arrivals plummeted by 72 percent in the period of January to July 2020, compared to last year. From April through to July only a couple of hundred visitors came to the islands – 99 percent less than in 2019 (Fiji Bureau of Statistics, September 2020). The local tourism industry, including resorts and restaurants, is out of business, to say the least. Farmers that have followed the advice of intermediaries and aid agencies are left without a market, because restaurants do not need their products anymore. To make matters worse, what they grow is not what the locals favour. If they are lucky, they can sell to export companies, but those mostly require far larger quantities than most smallholders produce.

In times of crises, tourism numbers plummet quickly, but also recover within about a year. The September 11th terrorist attacks, the 2002 Bali bombings and the 2004 tsunami in Thailand exemplify this. Larger tourism enterprises might have the means to survive such an economic “More traditional local crops, such as the root crops yams, taro and cassava, on the other side, rarely feature on Global North menus and are thus not sought-after by restaurants which cater to tourists. Therefore, there is little money to be made for local farmers, even though these kind of crops would far better match local climatic conditions and traditional farming methods. Those farmers that try to grow what tourists like to eat often fail” downturn. Smallholder farmers, on the other side, struggle to survive. They have little economic reserves and they are in a long-term business. In most cases, growing food means dedicating your land to a particular crop over several months, if not years. At harvest time, farmers needs a market, or they will lose a major share of their annual income. Hitching your plough to the tourism wagon might prove profitable during good times, but will ruin smallholders in times of crisis.

One avenue to create more resilience in rural communities could be to serve up more locally adapted produce in restaurants. By doing so, farmers can grow species that work well in smallholder, mixed cropping systems and sell to the tourism as well as the local market. From a tourism perspective, this will take, however, dedicated and well-trained chefs that know the culinary whims and fancies of Western tourists as well as the agricultural circumstances of their regions. They need to be able to create a fusion cuisine that marries both worlds. Cook books such as Me’a Kai: The food and flavours of the South Pacific (Oliver, Berno & Ram, 2010), named the Gourmand Best Cook Book of the World 2010, certainly support chefs in South Pacific islands in tackling this tremendous challenge. Its basic concept: traditional recipes, based on locally grown ingredients, with modern twists. In 2016, Fiji established a training project for chefs on how to integrate this concept into their menus. The result were unexpected. Trainers were far busier with training chefs on basic workplace hygiene and cooking skills, than on cooking fancy new recipes. Of course, this is a single story and there may well be more successful examples of this concept elsewhere. However, it does shed light on the local food in tourism development conundrum . W h a t could be supplied locally is not what most tourists like to eat; growing what tourists enjoy is more often than not beyond the capacity of local farmers and in times of crises offers little security; lastly, chefs that could bridge the local food sphere and international palates struggle with far more basic issues than creating new and appealing dishes.

An encouraging thought comes from considering the impact of different target groups. For example, backpackers visiting Samoa were found to stay in more locally owned and managed accommodation businesses, because they suited their travel experience aspirations (Scheyvens, 2006). This particular traveller segment was perhaps seeking a more genuine local (food) experience, rather than the usual sun, sand and sea vacation. This might propose a more careful consideration of what type of tourist a country seeks to attract and what implications this could have for local communities. Backpackers, food tourists and agritourist might all be more suitable target groups that encourage a stronger links between traditional crops, genuine local food and the tourism industry.