A SALTY STORY
22
Gaetano Boldrini That salt has been part and parcel of the lives of human beings since the Neolithic period is well-known. Called “divine substance” by the Greeks and “white gold” by the Latins, it began its journey at the birth of civilisation, crossing oceans and uniting continents. Taking advantage of mankind’s natural propensity for good food, it has made its way silently onto our tables, in myriad forms: sea, iodised, low-sodium, blossom from the Camargue, smoked or copper from Denmark, red from Hawaii, black from Cyprus, violet from India (Kala Namak), grey from Brittany, blue from Persia, pink from Peru, green from Hawaii, Maldon from England, Murray River from Australia, Halen Môn from Wales. But even before it became a condiment, it was used as a medicine by the Mayans and as a salary to pay the legionnaires, as well as to preserve meat and even mummies, and in the sacrificial rituals of the Greeks and Romans. It has taken on numerous symbolic meanings in different cultures, and at different times it has served as a multi-faceted synonym: for the eternal pact between God and Israel, for the loyalty of Indian troops to their English masters, for longevity and endurance, but also for truth and wisdom. What we do not know, or what we have ignored, is that people have tried to warn us about it. They reminded us, for example, that spilling it was an evil omen; and according to mediaeval etiquette, you could not even touch it with your hands, only the tip of a knife would be even remotely acceptable. There must have been some reason? Yet we carry on regardless… In chemistry class, we are taught that salt is an electronically neutral compound. This, though, is a false asserKhoorab diapir, ascent to the Last Cave
tion, for it is not in the least neutral: when it decides to give you a hard time, it pulls no punches, and it can’t be stopped. And then it is also treacherous: it insinuates itself into your life deceitfully, and once you realise it’s there, it’s too late... it has already caused unspeakable damage. It creaks and squeaks under your boots. Crunch, crunch – you like to walk for hours and hours on those white rivers, under a pounding sun that never lets up. You almost get attached to them... those funny little crystals; you even feel guilty when you destroy them, without
Climbing the Namak diapir
understanding that it is of no interest to them, because they have already decided. You walk on unawares, thinking that you have cheated them, just because you’ve been a bit prudent and put sunglasses on. Without your shades, all that whiteness and the 24/7 sunshine would soon take your sight away. But we were ready for this, we knew about it. What we didn’t know is that it – the salt – has set the trap for you: it is no longer neutral, and it has named you as its sacrificial victim. Slowly,
