SAYAS BLOG

Zamancwane Pretty Mahlanza

When travelling, incorporating Indigenous edible foods into our diets provides a wonderful way to connect with the land and the cultural legacy of different native populations. Indigenous foods are frequently grown responsibly and are very nutrient-dense. Some of these items include underutilised and neglected food groups, such as cereal grains and wild edible plants. Understanding these crops origins, techniques of harvesting, methods of preparation and processing, and their nutritional benefits for people is necessary to get these foods from the land to our plates.

The consumption and usage of Indigenous food sources offers nutritional and health-promoting benefits. Cereal grains such as the finger millet are rich in calcium, dietary fiber and are gluten-free grains (figure 2). In addition, the spekboomplant leaf (figure 1) are, also referred to as the  carbon capture powerhouse is an edible and medicinal plant leaf rich in vitamin C and antioxidants.  Furthermore, these crops and edible plants aid in diversifying the food supply and enhance global food security. By expanding the range of crops and foods we rely on, we reduce the risk of food shortages due to pests, diseases, or changing climate conditions.

Figure 1: Spekboom plant leaves

Figure 2: Finger millet grains

Our global food systems are interconnected, and I believe that this phase of my academic research where I develop instant food products and 3D printed snacks (figure 3) by using traditional and novel food processing techniques in underutilised and Indigenous food sources to improve nutritional value, functionality and health promoting benefits. Sustainable foods and technology are some of the key themes that my research topic focuses. Additionally, these are the two factors that will directly reshape consumer’s food perception in the immediate and near-term future.

Figure 3: 3D printed biscuit

Growing up I watched my father working hard in planting and harvesting crops in our community garden. At the time, I didn’t realise I was witnessing an unspoken knowledge system, one that held nutritional, ecological, and cultural value. It wasn’t until I began my studies in food and consumer science that I recognised how indigenous foods, long overlooked, could help reshape our global approach to food security and sustainable diets. Despite increasing interest, the rediscovery of indigenous foods remains fragmented. Much of the scientific literature is limited to isolated case studies, and not entirely on the of efficiency of safe processing that can increase the nutritional value and health promoting benefits. What’s needed is an interdisciplinary approach, one that combines food process engineering, food chemistry, and new product development.  

At the Centre for Innovative Food Research, were my current PhD research is based on food processing engineering, food chemistry, new product development and sensory analysis. The hands on experience here has been invaluable, shaping me into a researcher who thinks outside the box, pushes boundaries, and develops real-world solutions. I’ve made progress in focusing in identifying the metabolite profiles of processed finger millet and edible cricket whereby the study’s findings provide a crucial framework for tracking and controlling the metabolite composition of FM and EC flours during traditional and novel processing https. In addition, highlighting the application of efficient processing (traditional and novel) techniques have made improvements that suggest that combining the processed flours could yield a composite product rich in protein, with improved nutritional content, functional properties, and potential health-promoting benefits https://doi.org/10.1093/ijfood/vvaf056. As we journey back to our roots through the rediscovery of Indigenous foods, we uncover more than just forgotten flavours and implement new food processing techniques, we also reclaim stories, wisdom, and a deep respect for nature’s rhythm. The future of food may just lie in the past rich, resilient, and rooted in tradition.

Zaine Perry

They rage across the ocean, tear through coastlines, and leave devastation in their wake but tropical cyclones (TCs), for all their fury, are surprisingly delicate creatures. They rely on a perfect mix of conditions to form, survive, intensify and when just one of those ingredients goes missing, the whole system can collapse. That’s what makes them so fascinating (and so difficult to predict).

Hi, I’m a 2^nd year MSc student studying at the University of Cape Town (UCT), trying to understand one of the strangest TCs ever recorded: TC Freddy. I use numerical models to see how storms like Freddy form, move, intensify and impact regions over the South West Indian Ocean to improve forecasting and better protect vulnerable communities. I first encountered this storm – or at least the early parts of it – during my Honours in Ocean and Atmosphere Science at UCT, around two years ago.

Freddy formed northwest of Australia on 6 February 2023 and went on to travel over 8 000 km across the southern Indian Ocean, lasting until 14 March – over a month later. It made its first landfall in Madagascar on 21 February 2023 and went onto cross Mozambique a few days later. It brought catastrophic flooding, damages and death across Madagascar, Mozambique, and Malawi, and is now remembered as one of the most intense and persistent cyclones ever recorded in the region.

What I didn’t expect, however, was how familiar Freddy would become to me.

At the time, Freddy had recently occurred and gained a lot of attention for its unusual behaviour. My supervisors flagged it as a system worth looking into for my Honours research. Little did I know I’d still be talking about Freddy in my MSc thesis, still trying to make sense of what kept it alive for so long. It’s almost like Freddy refused to go quietly, both in the atmosphere and in my academic life.

Its record-breaking lifespan caught the attention of many in the scientific community, with researchers across the globe working to understand how a single storm could last so long. My work is one contribution to this wider effort. Here is my 2 cents worth.

At first glance, Freddy had the basics of a TC: warm sea surface temperatures and relatively low wind shear, the kind of ingredients researchers usually expect when a storm spins up. However, as I dug deeper into the data, I realised there was so much more going on and some of it was hiding beneath the surface.

One of the biggest surprises was ocean heat content (OHC). Freddy’s track overlapped with areas of high OHC, which I like to think of as the ocean’s energy reserve for fuelling storms. The friendly petrol attendant at the Engine garage, if you will. That hidden warmth beneath the surface gave Freddy the energy to keep going, even when you’d think it would start running low.

Another curveball was the influence of TC Dingani – a separate system swirling to the west of Freddy in mid-February 2023. On paper, the two storms were far apart, but they ended up indirectly shaping each other’s paths. Dingani interacted with the Mascarene High, a major subtropical pressure system, splitting it into two separate high-pressure cells. This split Mascarene High, altered the steering flow in the region and helped push Freddy westward, right across the southern Indian Ocean and into Madagascar.

Even more fascinating was the role of moisture. Dingani may have helped funnel moisture toward Freddy, effectively feeding it from a distance. Moisture is the lifeblood of a TC, and Freddy managed to maintain a rich supply throughout most of its journey by getting a blood transfusion from the guest to the west (Dingani). Weather data showed strong moisture fluxes from the lower and middle atmosphere, particularly in the lead-up to landfall events.

Speaking of landfalls, did you know that only 5% of TCs that reach Madagascar go on to make landfall in Mozambique? Freddy didn’t just make landfall, it did so twice with a “ping-pong” motion in between. After crossing Madagascar, Freddy moved into the Mozambique Channel, weakened overland, re-emerged over warm waters, and then re-intensified. That kind of behaviour isn’t unheard of, but it’s certainly unusual and hard to do numerical modelling on, especially when storms interact with both land and ocean environments in such complex ways.

In fact, modelling Freddy was one of the biggest challenges researchers faced. Weather models struggled to simulate its intensity and track with much accuracy. Even widely used datasets like IBTrACS, used by researchers and disaster agencies, missed parts of Freddy’s path, especially when it weakened over land. This is a big problem for studies that look at where storms go and what damage they cause, particularly in parts of southeastern Africa. These kinds of studies help us understand how often communities are hit, how severe the impacts are, and where support may be needed most. If the data says the cyclone wasn’t there… well, good luck claiming from insurance for the damage it caused. No track, no storm. No storm, no support. For vulnerable communities, that missing data can mean missing out on recovery aid they desperately need.

So, what does Freddy teach us?

For one, it shows that TCs are fragile beasts, sensitive to a range of atmospheric and oceanic conditions, many of which change from day to day. They’re not just wind and rain; they’re dynamic systems shaped by pressure patterns, ocean eddies, moisture transport, and even the presence of other storms.

Most weather models only simulate the atmosphere, but Freddy’s case suggests that leaving out the ocean, especially things like OHC, can be a big oversight. To better understand storms like Freddy, researchers need better tracking algorithms, more detailed ocean data, and coupled models that can simulate the feedback between ocean and atmosphere in real time. Only then can we improve our forecasting and give vulnerable communities the information they need before the next Freddy arrives.

Until then, I’ll probably still be thinking (and talking) about Freddy because some storms just leave a mark that’s hard to shake.

This map shows how large-scale pressure systems helped steer Cyclone Freddy (dots) and Dingani (triangles) across the Indian Ocean. Think of it as the atmospheric ‘roadmap’ that guided their paths (Perry et al., 2024).