To buy food from local restaurants…Yah or Nay?
I dreaded meal times while growing up because I was always unhappy. As a little child and up to my teenage days, I detested eating anything that had to do with swallowing (Eba, pounded yam, Semo, Wheat or Amala) with passion because we had too much of it for breakfast, lunch and dinner in my family. Rice was a meal we only ate on special occasions like Christmas, New year, Easter or whenever there was something of value to celebrate. My best meal became rice and stew and it was not uncommon for me to buy food (rice) from those local road side bukas. I enjoyed it. It was like a secret guilty pleasure for me.
Till date my dad loves to swallow. You cannot cook rice, spaghetti or indomie for my dad and he will agree that he has eaten. He will wait for some hours and wash down the rice with a befitting meal like POUNDED yam or Amala. The choice depends on his mood and the availability of the meal. I can conveniently say that his day isn’t complete without a sufficient bowl of swallow loiloilise.
My sister and I usually bought spaghetti, indomie and rice to secretly cook while the others struggled with their fufu or amala for whatever aspect of the meal of the day it was. We usually smuggled it in through the fence and through the back door when my boyfriend that year renews our supply. That is the reason why I can conveniently eat rice today with any soup including okro and Ewedu.
While in the university of Ibadan in my 200 level, I stayed off campus because I didn’t get a space in the hostel (Queen Idia hall). Cooking was such a herculean task for me during the rainy season because the house I stayed didn’t have a kitchen. It was more like a “Slap me – I give you blow” kind of atmosphere in Samonda. We cooked just outside our room and waited if it was raining so that our stove/gas will not drink unwanted water. I had two roommates and I was always angry, touchy and almost insane if any of them attempted to cook in the room while it was raining. I will shout and almost bring down the roof because I didn’t see the wisdom in cooking in a room while there are human beings breathing.
I started buying food from a local buka in Agbowo just outside the school gate. A plate of food was N150 or thereabout for a sumptuous meal. I felt it was a good bargain and I usually had my dinner there before I went back to the house. Sometimes I had lunch but on rare occasions I also had breakfast there. I became a regular customer such that they could leave their money with me when there was no change because they were 75% sure that I was going to come back the next day to buy food.
Due to the way people hyped a particular meal (Amala and Gbegiri) I was forced to taste the food one hot afternoon. I felt so good and even had few strokes of orgasms while eating the food that I became hooked. It became my favourite…all I needed to do was just ask the attendant for my favourite and I will be served 3 wraps of amala, ewedu, gbegiri, ponmo and goatmeat. The amala place was adjacent to Agbowo shopping complex that was opposite UI main gate.
Till date, whenever I collect my salary I still eat Amala here in Abuja. I have sampled places where amala is sold and I know quite a few places you can get a delicious plate of Amala here in Abuja for at least N1,000.
The best ones are in Wuye, Mabushi, Gwarimpa and there’s also one in Wuse 2. It’s not like I am addicted sort of, I just like the whole vibe I get from buying it from outside. Whenever I am stressed or angry with my job or just down, a bowl of the amala sold in Mabushi is enough to snap me out of the mood.
It was so painful for me yesterday when I came across a post on Tontrends of a woman who sells Amala but ran mad few days ago. She was said to have confessed that she uses her menstruation blood, water from dead corpses to garnish her meals for innocent amala addicts like myself.
After reading and processing the news, something died in me and I am yet to come to terms with why she will decide to commit such atrocity. I have always heard the story of how restaurant owners do all sorts of diabolical things to attract customers but I have never believed…I always take such stories with just a pinch of salt and assume it was a demarketing and propaganda strategy from bitter competitors determined ruin a thriving business.
I don’t know why I believe this particular story and why it got me thinking so much. I sincerely regret all the Amala I ate while in UI. I should have just cooked my meals and be happy either in the rain or not. At least my gas cooker and pots would not have stolen anything from my destiny or use diabolical means to entice me. This world is hard already and I am here wondering why that mad woman and her colleagues will complicate it further for us.
Please let’s stay woke and intelligent my dear readers. Stay away from all those them restaurants with lots of traffic that’s unexplainable. It is not a strange sight here in Abuja to see CEOs, top professionals, Senior officers of huge parastaals, MDs of corporate organization during lunch break on the queue in Wuye and Jahi for a bowl of Amala. Please help me them that we won’t die if we don’t eat the sumptuous shaki, roundabout, ponmo, fuku, liver or that legendary goatmeat from iya Basira . Yes….I am off too and I mean it.
This is just to pour out my heart on how I feel. I am fine and will heed to my own advice. Thank you for reading!!!
#foodvendors #brutality #news #buka #amala #food #madness
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