I don’t get why Nigerians are so obsessed with jollof rice, that it would lead to fights and a whole lot of jollof-induced debates.
Jollof brings up bad memories, because I could remember mama going to iya tomisin to borrow four cups of rice, two smallie onions and crayfish with more chaff on it than actual crayfish. Even though I saw bundles of money in papa’s drawer while cleaning.
I remember, because I was the one to pound stuffs. The one to watch mama wait for the palm oil to bleach and also the one that have to run out of the kitchen because I was choking on smoke.
I can also remember mama’s evil stare daring me to remain any food, as I spooned mountain of onion-bleached oil- tasting rice down my throat.
Don’t force me to like jollof rice because it was on one of those days that papa came home with the tall bosom aunty.
I overhead mama telling her best friend, ma buchi, that she suspect tall Aunty’s boobs to be only bra foam. They thought I didn’t hear.
It was also on the days we cooked jollof rice that mama would sneak into my room. I would feel my bed dip because of her weight, then she would carefully lay down beside me thinking that i’m asleep. I’m not.
I would wait 10secs before I feel her body shake in silent sobs.
I hate…no, mama said I should not use the word “hate” that it’s too strong a word.
So, I dislike jollof rice.