Salt of the earth
Text and photographs by Arti Das
Goa’s gaunthi meeth has a reddish-brown hue because of the minerals present in it.
Last year in May, a post on Facebook about Goa’s traditional solar salt by local photographer Assavri Kulkarni, piqued the interest of residents of the state. It invited more than a hundred comments, many nostalgic about the salt pans.
Some users shared how they used this salt not just for cooking but also to disinfect wells, as a remedy for sore throats, to mop floors, for bathing, and even to get rid of the evil eye.
The popularity of the post demonstrated how this solar salt — or ‘gaunthi meeth’ as it is locally known — is an integral part of Goa’s cuisine, culture, identity and rituals.
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Goa’s gaunthi meeth has a rich history; salt harvesting is one of the oldest industries in the state. In her book As Dear As Salt, which is based on the salt harvesting communities of Goa, sociologist Dr Reyna Sequeira writes: “The salt industry in Goa first developed more than a thousand years ago...Goa is also believed to have been a major exporter of salt — exporting it to Thailand, Burma and even some African countries in past centuries and dominating part of the Asian market with its salt exports around 1855.”
Goa was a Portuguese colony from 1510 to 1961. Under Portuguese rule, salt production in Goa received a major boost and the commodity was also exported. In the research paper, Community solar salt production in Goa, Kabilan Mani, Bhakti B Salgaonkar, Deepthi Das & Judith M Bragança write: “With the Portuguese colonization of Goa in 1510, salt production gained a huge momentum because of increased demand for consumption. Portuguese cuisine required surplus salt and it was used in balancing the hull of ships on sailing. With the maritime dominance of Portuguese, salt produced in Goa was exported even to the Middle Eastern countries.”
This trade came to a halt after the Anglo-Portuguese Treaty of 1878, which placed customs barriers on salt export from Goa. This was followed by another treaty in 1880 that placed salt manufacturing in Portuguese India under British control for 12 years. “Due to the decadent status of Goa’s economy, the Portuguese government was compelled to sign the treaty,” Sequeira writes. This tussle for control hampered salt production in the state and consumers were forced to pay exorbitant prices for it.
Since salt was considered an essential commodity, controlling the salt trade was seen as an important economical and political step. The British endeavoured to do this not just in Goa, but across the country. Britain’s Salt Act, passed in 1882, prohibited Indians from collecting or selling salt. In response to this law, Mahatma Gandhi started the Salt March (also known as the Dandi March), an act of nonviolent protest against the discriminatory law. The march, which ended with Gandhi breaking the law by picking up a fistful of salt, made the condiment a symbol of the wider civil disobedience movement.
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Salt harvesting is a labour intensive process that demands an understanding of the ecology
In Goa, salt and salt pans are part of an age-old network of reclaimed wetlands called khazans. According to experts, the khazan system is unique to Goa and is around 3,500 years old. Khazans are saline flood plains along Goa’s tidal estuaries ringed by mangroves. According to historical records, these lands were reclaimed from mangrove forests by local land associations (called ‘comunidades’ in Portuguese), who built an intricate system of bunds (or dykes) and sluice gates on them. These wooden or concrete gates, which are constructed at the mouth of the rivulet, close during high tide to prevent inundation and open during low tide, to allow excess water to drain from khazan land. Small water bodies called ‘poiem’ that act as drainage channels are also part of this ecosystem, which supports agricultural activities as well as fisheries, and also a wide variety of wildlife.
These systems were built to better control the salinity in the ecosystem, which made it suitable for agriculture. Salinity-resistant paddy varieties like native Korgut rice are traditionally grown on khazan lands. They are also used for inland fishing, mainly during the monsoon season. Salt production takes place in the post-monsoon period. In this way, this system serves as a perfect example of sustainability and self-reliance, and provides Goans with their daily fish curry and rice, which together with salt, is the staple food. Even today, these systems are managed by comunidades. The repair and restoration of sluice gates and bunds thus plays an important role not just in salt harvesting but the overall health of the khazan system.
Goa-based architect and environment educator, Tallulah D’Silva, who conducts salt pans walks, explains
that the khazan systems across Goa are built along its rivers. They are mainly located on the estuaries of the Zuari and Mandovi, which are the state’s largest rivers. To produce salt, the river water from many channels is allowed to flow into a series of shallow troughs called poiems. Some of these troughs are built in such a way as to form a series of pans where solar salt is harvested. The flow of the salt water into the pans is controlled by sluice gates.
During the monsoon, these pans are filled with fish and prawns, as the tidal water brings in spawn. The marine life includes prawns, shrimps, mullets and pearlspot, among other species. They are usually harvested by fishermen for their own consumption or sold in the market if there is an abundance. Post-monsoons, when the salt harvesting season begins, the water from the poeim is pumped out. The ridges around the pans are raised with the clay and grass found in the vicinity. River water, which has roughly around 40 per cent salinity, is then routed into the pans. It passes through three types of pans. In the last pan, the water evaporates and the salt crystallizes. It is then harvested with long rakes and piled along the raised corner of the ridges. This harvesting starts in January and continues until May or the arrival of monsoon.
The existence of these salt pans is directly interlinked with the khazan system. They are a showcase of the skillful, manual process of converting river water into salt. Even though it may look simple, it demands a complex understanding of the ecology. Besides, it is a labour intensive profession that demands working in the sweltering summer heat.
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A view of Govind Bhobe’s salt pans in the village of Nerul in North Goa.
Today, there are only 25-30 salt pans remaining in Goa, compared to 400 in the early 20th century. Changes in land use, non-availability of labour and a lack of upkeep of the bunds are some of the reasons why the khazan system — and by extension, the solar salt harvested from them — has been in decline.
Govind Bhobe, 84, is one of the oldest salt producers in Goa. He harvests salt from an area of 55,000 square meters in a village called Nerul in North Goa. He has been in this business for more than 50 years. He claims that he produces 5000 bags (each bag weighing around 15 kg) per year. But his business in the last two years has been affected by unseasonal rains, and the extended lockdown due to COVID-19. “I usually start harvesting in January but this year I started only in March,” said Bhobe. He also lamented about the condition of the bunds, which has a direct impact on the harvest. “Salt pans get inundated when the water level rises, which leads to breaching. To maintain it one has to increase its height. And the expenditure for this is not proportionate to the income,” he said.
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Solar salt was once an integral part of the Goan kitchen. It was transported door-to-door on bullock carts or in cane baskets by local women. Bullock carts have been replaced by goods vehicles, and this salt is now mainly sold in villages, where villagers buy their yearly quota. Traditionally it was stored in wooden containers, glazed clay barrels or bamboo baskets covered with dry coconut fronds. Known for its reddish-brown hue, it has a coarse texture and a mild sweet aftertaste.
Gaunthi meeth is mainly used to make seasonal pickles and to sun dry and preserve fish. Kulkarni informs me that she uses it for cooking, and brine fermenting bamboo shoots, carrots and eggs. The Goan dish that best highlights its use is ‘chhepnnechem tor’ or raw mangoes pickled in brine. This pickled mango along with hot pej or rice gruel, which is also seasoned with the same salt, is cherished as a comfort food during the monsoon months.
In winters, when Goan markets are flooded with a variety of tubers, many like to simply boil them and season them with solar salt. It is also added to fruit drinks such as kokum juice or the raw mango drink known as ‘panne’.
Dr. Nandkumar Kamat, Ph.D.guide and research supervisor in the Department of Botany, Goa University, says, “Solar salt [has a] much-reduced concentration of sodium chloride – 86 to 91 per cent by weight as compared to refined and iodised salt, which has 96 per cent. This means Goans who used traditional, fixed quantities of local salt for cooking knew the exact proportion to be added to various dishes or drinks. On the contrary, the concentration of pure sodium chloride in packaged commercial salt is very high and due to this, it is difficult to [ascertain the right] quantity just by measuring the volume in cooking.”
Gaunthi meeth also has non-edible uses. A mixture of sand and salt retains a high degree of heat. This is why it is used to build traditional, wood fired ovens. In Goa, these ovens are used mainly to make traditional Goan breads such as poee, pav, undo and katre pao. Salt is also added to electrical earthing pits along with charcoal, in ice factories, and as manure for coconut, mango, and cashew trees as it protects them from termite attacks.
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A large pile of freshly harvested gaunthi meeth.
An important factor that has contributed to the gradual decline of gaunthi meeth is the use of commercial iodized table salt, which was introduced in the late ‘90s. Goa-based consultant nutritionist, Rohini Diniz explained: “In the 1990s, there was a study conducted that in many parts of the country, people were having health ailments due to the deficiency of iodine. Since every person, rich or poor, uses salt in their cooking, salt was chosen as a vehicle for fortification with iodine. ”
In the 1990s, the state government banned the sale of non-iodized table salt and began to promote iodized salt. According to local reports from the time, the decision was met with resistance. But with time, fine table salt has found a prominent place on dining tables. Dr Kamat says that despite its diminishing use, gaunthi meeth, has varied health benefits. “It is living organic salt, fortified naturally with potassium, calcium and magnesium and teeming with beneficial halobacteria and yeasts,” he said.
Even though this salt is often considered ‘dirty’ due to its light brown colour, that hue is due to the minerals present in it. D’Silva makes it a point to debunk this notion during her walks. “I often explain that today, our association to clean and healthy food is simply anything that is white! All our processed foods are bleached and therefore appear white. Mud is considered dirty!” she said.
There are some in the food industry who are now recognising the innate value of this all-natural salt. Restaurants such as Cavatina, based in Benaulim in South Goa, are making special dishes featuring it. “If you compare the taste [of gaunthi meeth] to other salts, it tastes [more] like the sea. It also tastes less salty than its counterpart. It is natural and pure,” said Chef Avanish Martins of Cavatina. He uses it to make smoked mackerel on hay; in lime juice, and sprinkles it on caramel ice cream.
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A large pile of gaunthi meeth stacked against the ridge of a poeim.
Salt pans are rapidly disappearing from Goa’s map due to urbanization. D’Silva points out that water pollution is also a big threat. Many dykes are littered with trash and even construction debris. Most importantly, they are being swallowed by real estate projects. “The salt pan land is cheaper and the water around it serves as a pond,” said Bhobe, explaining the appeal of khazan lands for developers. Why has he continued in this challenging line of business? “It is easy to lose and difficult to maintain. Why should I give up? It is a part of me,” he said.
D’Silva suggests that salt pans should be classified as critical, climate-resilient infrastructure, and protected as biodiversity heritage sites under the Biological Diversity Act, passed in 2002. It is imperative upon the government to financially support and document the Khazan system. As Kulkarni puts it, “It is important that we show our children how mother earth churns out salt from her womb to nourish us.”
