TURBINE | KAPOHAU

Dad was standing in the kitchen, hovering over a plastic bottle of thick brownish liquid. On the counter was a little cup. He lifted it to his lips, ‘You know, it doesn’t taste as bad as you’d expect. You should try it. It’ll be good for your health issues.’ This wasn’t an unusual suggestion. The shelves behind us were lined with all kinds of bottles and jars filled with powders and supplements all promising improved health or life extension in some kind of way. The jar of sulphur with a metallic after taste, the bottles of kefir made with raw milk, ready to explode, the bag of diatomaceous earth with the label ‘For Four- and Two-Legged Animals’ because it wasn’t legal to market to humans.   

Dad poured another shot into the cup and held it out to me.  

‘Try it,’ he insisted. 

‘What is it?’ I asked as he handed the bottle to me. I looked at the label, at the little red poison warning. Turpentine.  

‘It’s good for your gut bacteria,’ he continued and took a swig from the cup. I looked at the warning label again. 

‘Dad, is it a good idea?’ I asked, ‘The bottle says it’s toxic.’  

He rolled his eyes. 

‘Niamh, it’s completely natural. It comes from trees.’ Dad held the cup out again, but I was still nervous. 

‘Really? Are you sure?’  

He was exasperated.  

‘They put that on there to instil fear. They don’t want you to have anything that’s good for you, anything that will heal you.’  

He thrust the cup at me. I looked at it, filled with brown goo, the kind of plastic cup you’d use as the lid for a bottle of laundry detergent. And he was right, it didn’t taste as bad as you’d think.  

After my birthday, there was a new regime established in the house. Dad, Aneurin and I would all be going on the Gut and Psychology Syndrome diet (GAPS). Dad had been growing increasingly health conscious and doing a lot of research online. He discovered the theory of leaky gut syndrome, a condition where your stomach lining leaks, leading to a variety of physical problems like stomach pain, bowel disease, diarrhoea and anything else you can think of, that also caused mental health issues and neurodevelopmental conditions. Dad ordered a GAPS recipe and guidance book online, Gut and Psychology Syndrome: Natural Treatment for Autism, Dyspraxia, A.D.D., Dyslexia, A.D.H.D., Depression, Schizophrenia, and excitedly declared it would be the household’s new Holy Bible.  

Neither Aneurin nor I was particularly excited to have to cut nearly everything out of our diet, but there was no denying Dad when he had done all this research and was willing to sacrifice so much of his time for our sake. Dad couldn’t convince Mum to get on the diet, even though he could think of a myriad of personality issues he thought she could benefit from healing, and Mum decided that because Isa didn’t have anything wrong with him, he didn’t need to do the diet either. Dad had been concerned about me for a while: the way I used to feel so sick at school and how I was too exhausted to do anything but stay in bed when I was at home. He kept saying that work shouldn’t be wiping me out so much. He was concerned about himself too. Recently, he’d been having energy problems as well, but more concerning to him were the greys he was finding in his stubble, and his ever-thinning hairline.  

‘This shouldn’t be happening,’ he said to me when he noticed more of his scalp was showing than it used to. ‘People think it’s a sign of age, but there really isn’t any such thing. It’s a sign of poor health.’ 

It was Aneurin, however, who Dad was most excited for. Shortly after the book arrived, Dad sobbed in my arms because finally he wouldn’t have to feel guilty about that vitamin K shot all those years ago. He would be able to heal Aneurin, cure him of his autism, and ‘Get to know him as the man he should be.’  

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾𖤓 ⋆⁺₊⋆ 

A brief guide to the start of the GAPS diet for the uninitiated 

The GAPS diet has three main stages and operates on a philosophy of complete restriction and eventual reintroduction. The first stage is separated into a further six categories and the starting point for anyone hoping to heal their leaky gut is a diet of nothing but homemade meat broth and animal fat. Make sure it is all homemade and eat nothing else until your body has adjusted, i.e. you have no diarrhoea or constipation. If you are suffering from constipation, which is very likely because there is no fibre in a GAPS diet, you will have to resort to an unmedicated enema until the issue is resolved. You might cry from embarrassment, or maybe just the stomach pain. You might cry because the bathroom door doesn’t have a lock. You might cry because your dad can’t afford to keep buying $17 dollar enemas everyday, so you have to keep using the same one-use disposable one over and over again. But under no circumstances can you go back to your old way of eating because you don’t want to disappoint Dad. You should only drink bone broth for at least one week, but depending on your symptoms, this phase of stage one can last up to two years.  

As your body adjusts, you can start advancing through the next six phases of stage one, slowly adding more foods to your diet: egg yolks (those first scrambled eggs after two weeks of bone broth will be the best thing you’ve ever tasted), raw honey (which can be beaten with raw egg yolks to make Russian Custard, a sweet treat for when you’re feeling naughty), homemade ghee (your dad will encourage you to nibble on chunks if you’re still feeling hungry after your bone broth), and pancakes made from squash, egg yolk, and nut butter (these won’t taste too bad at first, but soon you’ll have to start making shortcuts because nut butter is too expensive to keep using and egg whites are too expensive to waste -– the result will be a watery pumpkiny mess that you can’t flip in the pan anymore). You must continue to have a cup of bone broth with every meal (eat nothing if the thought of one more spoonful is making you nauseous) and the slow cooker must always be boiling away. Your mum will always be arguing with your dad about the smell because she is uninitiated. Don’t worry. They’re separating anyway. 

You must not use any hygiene products. Shampoo, soap, deodorant, and toothpaste all have chemicals your body will absorb and even natural alternatives will have ingredients that aren’t GAPS legal (though you will exercise a sliver of autonomy and continue using toothpaste and washing your hands behind your father’s back). You must not finish the loaf of brioche your little brother spent hours making you for your birthday. You must not drink the coffee you make at work, even though you’re a barista. You must not have a beer at afterwork drinks and should sit there awkwardly as your coworkers ask you why you don’t want anything (you will stop going). You must not go out to dinner with your friends, which won’t end up mattering because it’s been years since you had any. You must not eat any of the crackers and hummus your mum puts out when she has a friend over and you should defend your dad when he gets criticised for use of the word ‘diet’. You must refuse the ginger tea your old singing teacher offers when you go to visit after she gets out of hospital, because store bought herbs are not GAPS legal (be thankful that turpentine isn’t either). Break any of these rules and you will have to start the entire reintroduction system over again, with nothing but bone broth. Don’t be tempted to eat any of the prawns your uncle barbecues on Christmas day (your little brother will see you and you will split his loyalties).