Category: Musings


EVER FELT LIKE THIS??

food

‘Ehn? You can’t make Amala or what did you say?’ my Aunt asks me. ‘Yes’ I replied. She then stared at me open mouthed, at the same time shaking her head as if I had just confessed to being a witch. I am not surprised by this reaction. Infact I had come to expect it anytime I told others about my limited culinary skills. Some may ignorantly attribute this fact to the way I was brought up. Probably thinking I’m a spoilt brat who grew up in a house full of servants and has never had to wash my own plates. But if I then proceeded to tell them that we never had a visiting relation talkless of a househelp in my home while growing up, and that my elder sister who is only eighteen months older than me is quite the chef then they would have to reevaluate that premise.

I am an unmarried Yoruba lady in her midtwenties. I grew up in a strict home with my mother bearing the mantle of enforcing discipline. Even though she did everything in her power to make me enthusiastic about cooking, I never was able to go past preparing the basics. My sister on the other hand is a different story entirely. She was ever learning and ever producing those recipes she has learnt. Anytime she’s at home I’m sure to enjoy a variety of dishes which I would otherwise have done without.

The African society has a general notion about women like me. We are the ones: whose husbands are likely to be snatched by our househelps or some other woman; who thinks being educated excuses our lack of culinary skills; who shouldn’t even boast of being an African woman but rather should feel incomplete by this supposed aberration on our part.

But I ask: ‘does the fact that I can’t peel beans for moin-moin or akara mean I’m a dimwit? Should I feel inadequate because I’ve never cooked okro, efo elegusi, or even peppersoup? Am I  supposed to suffer infidelity because I cant differentiate one variety of yam, rice or vegetable from each other? Must I be quiet in the company of other women because I can’t make any type of pastries?

Take the other day for instance while I was discussing with a lady I met during my NYSC orientation exercise. After we had been talking for some time and I had told her of those meals I find difficult to make, the next thing she said was ‘your husband will have to be humble o’! ‘What has humility got to do with that? I thought to myself’.

Another time my Aunt (mentioned earlier) asked if I could peel beans for moin-moin? I told her no. Then in a bid to understand this, she asked if it was that My Mum (her sister) does not make it? I told her no, that on the contrary she does and that my sister can too. Then she became quiet. I can imagine the thoughts that must have been going through her mind. I had no reason to feel bad. For crying out loud food is only needed to survive. So as long as I eat something-doesn’t matter if it’s the same thing over and over again-, I think that’s enough!

One may argue that though if not completely, being a good cook is essential to being a good wife or mother as the case may be. I do not dispute that. But the point remains that there has always been and there will always be women who are not crazy about cooking; women whose fulfillment does not come from turning out various dishes; women who would choose introtech over home economics as a subject. And I seriously believe that we should not be judged by our culinary ability or lack thereof.

Women play many other important roles than just being cook. And as I sometimes say, ‘if my husband is so hungry to eat a particular meal let him cook it (finis)!

Let’s take a look at other societies aside Africa. Inasmuch as the task of cooking most times still fall to the woman, she is not judged as being worthless if she cant. What goes in such instances is that the services of a professional cook is employed. Or the husband helps out if he has the skills. But you dare tell an African man to help his wife out in cooking. It is then you will know that the major reason he married you was for you to cook and if you can’t you had better return to your parents to get the necessary training (there are exceptions of course).

So am I in essence saying that only women who enjoy cooking should do it and those who do not should be complacent, and just tell themselves ‘that’s the way I am’? Absolutely not. Rather my argument is that not all women would know how to prepare all meals reflective of their culture. And that the society should not view them as being handicapped if they cannot. Also for women who find themselves in this category (e.g me), what I would counsel is a constant, ever eager approach. If opportunities arise to learn any new recipe or a meal you otherwise cannot make, by all means take it. It’s a different case if you cant reproduce this later on (talking from experience) but at least you’ve made an effort to better your cooking experience.

Does this then negate all I have been talking about? Far from it. Inasmuch as doing this would benefit your husband/children for the married, I believe that it brings some amount of personal fulfillment especially if you took it as a challenge.

So in summary. One, there will always be women who will not conform to the norm of being exceptional cooks. Two, the African society should not judge this women on the basis of this. Finally, the advice to these women is to take it one step at a time and never give up on themselves and not allow the society bully them either.

This write up far from being about making a case where there is none, it’s actually the outcry of a woman seeking to be understood

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IF ONLY

I saw a movie some days ago titled ‘Pyaar Impossible’; it’s Indian for Love Impossible or Impossible Love, whichever way. It’s about a young man who was so enamored by a lady he was in the same school with, but this lady never even knew he existed since they were worlds apart. She is a rock star in the University and they just didn’t roll with the same group. Seven years after they finished from the University, this guy came up with a brilliant software application which was stolen from him by another guy, in a bid to get this usurper he had to travel to Singapore and lo and behold he sees this young lady again. She was now a divorced mother and her daughter was always frustrating the nannies that came to look after her. Through some misunderstanding the guy ended up being a nanny to the daughter and he finally got an opportunity to be close to her. As the movie unfolded the lady got to know he had never had a girlfriend and wondered why, he told her it was mainly because of the way he looked/dressed but she didn’t believe it so they had a bet. She was to dress up as nerdish as possible and go hang out at a club, the main thing for her to do was to get just one guy ask for her phone number. This seemed too easy she thought until they got to the club and not even a guy wanted to chat with her not to talk of collecting her number. It was then she realised how hard it must have seemed for the guy, not being recognised simply because of the way he dressed. She finally realised that she loved him and he was the one that rescued her back then at the University, yadda, yadda, yadda.

This story got me thinking; it got me thinking about all those wonderful relationships that we might have had but didn’t because of the external packaging, we thought that guy/lady was not good enough for us because they just didn’t dress right, didn’t wear the latest designer clothes or drive the fastest cars, didn’t speak phonetics, or their English did not just sound right. I wonder about all those people that are married to the wrong person today because the outward appearance was perfect, that was all that mattered. I just wondered that ‘if only’ they knew that that guy with the color riot dressing is the best man they could ever marry, that that lady with the drab appearance is the most wonderful wife they could ever get, I guess they would not have minded what their friends/family would say and would have gone ahead to marry the person. Or if you had not minded that the guy who understood all the courses you don’t understand is the class’ outcast you would probably be amongst the best in your class. But it’s all a matter of the choices we make.

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