The First Time I Ate Nigerian Akpu – Hilarious Funny Tale
I think I was born when food was cheap. When you could eat a meal and not worry about its cost. I didn’t eat eba until I was 7 and that was after my Dad moved us from Lagos to Kano. The ajebutter in me obviously. Though I have been kpakofied I’m butter at heart. I grew up on pounded yam and amala but mostly pounded yam.
I enjoyed pounded yam so much so that I could eat it morning, afternoon and night. Even during my service year. All through my stay in camp in Keffi, Nasarawa state all I ate for dinner was pounded yam. Nothing else. There was always a plate for me no matter the rush of customers. Won fi iyan se epe fun mi walahi. (Dem use pounded yam swear for me).
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And don’t be worried if you’re thinking “I can’t marry him, he’ll want me to pound”. I can pound. Just make my soup. Nsala preferably. Husband material inside boutique kan bu. And please go mix that your poundo flour with cement.
Now I picked up a habit from my constant intake of pounded yam. It made me a chewer. You know how pounded yam is just yam pounded into pulp. Mum had this fond habit of giving me some without soup while she was pounding.
It was a guise or gimmick to calm me if I was hungry, maybe cos’ of my love for it or sometimes to get me a bit full before the meal was ready.
Either way there was no soup, so I chewed it. And therefore I chewed everything. Even eba. White amala, black amala. I chew. Scrunch your faces all you want.
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Yeah I know you’re saying “how can someone be chewing ‘swallow’.” Well, don’t some of you dip bread inside tea?
Kan nukwa na mmili ju oyi ka ji eme garri. (Let me hear that they use cold water to make eba).
Seriously I have tried not chewing ‘swallows’ but the food gets stuck in my throat but don’t mistake it for meekness. Don’t ever think you want to have a eat down with me or cheat me when eating.
Service year I had to be served separately anytime we tried to eat communally in the lodge. I had a cooler mouth and never seemed to get burnt. I am the flash in food battles. Just ju kwa ajuju (ask questions).
Sorry I digress. So, on this day I don’t know the thing that happened. My aunty who was staying with us just went to market and came back with the stuff she had bought. Prepared ofe okulu with my mum(okra soup). I was playing seriously and didn’t know when the meal was ready.
“Junior come and eat your food.” My aunt called. ‘Piaaaauuun’ I was inside like a jet. Ahan. I was surprised. Pounded yam and Okulu(Okra soup. When did they pound? How come nobody called me to come and take some to chew? I was feeling pained. “Aunty Onyebuchi you pounded yam?” Aunty Buchi nodded with a mischievous smile. I didn’t understand.
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I called out to my mum. “Mummy you didn’t call me to come and take yam when you were pounding.” My mother just made one sound, “humwumwumhum.” I squeezed my face. What kind of answer is that sef?
I was forming sullen but my mother had finished work on the okulu. If you must sell your birthright like Esau did do it with an African dish like ofe okulu with diced pomo, beef, dry fish, ezigbo ose(better pepper) ya na okporoko(stock fish) not porridge.
See smoke for the soup. Seriously Esau fall hand there. When ordinary pant is bringing benz. Somebody sold his full birthright for Quaker Oats? With goat or sheep milk oooh. Not like it is Ladha milk or Peak. If I say tueeh now.
Something smelt funny in the house. I sniffed the air. I couldn’t place it. I looked around curiously. “Aunty what is smelling?” My aunt shrugged.
Anyway I cut the ‘pounded yam’ and threw like three lumps mixed with soup into my mouth. I chewed and tried to swallow. That’s when I noticed the taste. Hoemaigod! What was this? My body went krrraaaavrrrooo.
The taste slapped me. I shivered. My mouth was full. I was chewing but couldn’t swallow. I stopped. I looked at the food inside the plate. I was perceiving some weird shitty odour. I raised my hand and smelt it.
‘Ehiiiiiieeeee’ had this people packaged shit for me to eat laikdis ‘ni tori olohun’. The only smell worse than this smell in history of my young age and adventures around the kitchen was the ogiri smell. That one? I will never understand how something that smells that bad makes soup taste so good.
The acidic taste of this akpu was something else. I was flabbergasted. By now my mouth was full of ‘unswalloable’ akpu. I felt something crawling up my stomach. The ajebutter worms in my tummy were pushing the akpu back.” No way Junior we dinnor sign up for this shit,” the worms screamed.
“Dear worms I dinnor signup for this shit either but it’s in my mouth.” I conveyed to the worms telepathically. I was in dilemma. I forcefully swallowed the akpu with water. The worms barricaded my throat.”Bros lai lai we no gree oh. This thing no pass here. Highest, hunger go kill us all. Make dem make eba or you drink the soup like that. We die here.” The worms chanted in unison.
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“Are you okay?,” Mum asked. See kweshion Mrs Omoko was asking. See my mouth full from my first few morsels. I wasn’t chewing or swallowing. I was sweating profusely. I was far from okay you this woman. You people have poisoned me. All traces of the soup has left the morsels in my mouth. At that moment I wanted to cut my tongue
I tried to answer and I knew what would happen. Regurgitation. ‘ Viuuummm’ I was out and in the backyard dropping every single thing in my tummy and throat. Even my intestine wanted to escort the akpu out. But the worms held it back. “Yeaaaaaaah” I could hear victory chants by the worms. I had spoiled this worms.
From that day I started smelling my food. Nothing was sacred anymore. All this happened in the early nineties.
Then my parents left me in Kano in 99/2000 with an aunt. Agwahom agwa (Nobody told me). By the time hunger had touched different points of my destiny I learnt how to eat akpu.
Now I can eat Akpu for breakfast without blinking. Food that destroys hunger for hours. Six to Six. I chew it too. It is the Lord’s doing and it is marvellous in my eyes.
©Rick
This Story Was Submitted To Xycinews News Media.
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