There’s this strange connection between food and the memory. Just a taste can transport one back to his/her childhood family kitchen, family gatherings, a place where various voices, accompanied with laughters, mixes with the aroma of your pots. Well, for me, most of these memories remain just that..."memories". There’s a long list of foods I haven’t eaten in years, and it’s not because I don’t love them, though there are some I actually don't like even from the onset. But life, as it often does, took a turn.
Take amala, for instance, though I actually don't like it, that much, but I haven’t even tasted amala in what feels like forever. It’s not because I’ve gone on a fancy diets. The truth is simpler and saddening, I had to step away for health reasons.
Life came at me a few years ago. After undergoing several operations, my doctors handed me a list of things/foods to avoid. Amala, Eba, and pounded yam and more didn’t make the "you can eat" list. I can still remember the doctor’s face as he explained it, so serious, like he was giving bad news. And to me, sincerely, it was bad news. I love pounded yam, how do you tell someone who grew up in a country where pounded yam is almost a birthright that they can’t have it anymore. It felt like losing a piece of myself. But its for my own sake/benefit.
Pounded yam was my grandfather’s favorite dish. He used to say it gave him strength. Watching him roll those morsels, while I try do it the way he does also before dipping it into some rich egusi (melon) soup. Now, I wonder what he would think of me turning it down.
Then there’s Eba, well, right from the onset, i dont take that at all, yes , I don't and now it being part of my don't eat list, I think am little happy, though Eba has this aroma that I love, especially when just made, I don't know maybe am the only one who loves it, even if I want to eat it atimes, due to being stranded or something, I still can't, the reality is that my health won’t allow me to. I don't take draw soups too, well, maybe I have an allergy to them, either I battle with stomachache for the whole day, I began vomiting uncontrollably like a pregnant lady.
It’s funny, though. When you can’t have something, you miss it even more. The most painful part is that, I can make all those food and soups perfectly, my mum gave birth to us all as males, so we were all good with cooking, but should I hype myself, maybe I should, am very good with cooking, just provide the necessary ingredients, cooking is my hobby though. Sometimes I cook them at home and then had to cook something else for myself, can you relate with such pain, sometimes I smell them from a neighbor’s kitchen.
But, life teaches you to adapt. I’ve learned to appreciate some other foods, even if they don’t hold the same emotional weight. And sincerely, it hasn’t been all that bad.
But some days, maybe I will try do some cheating, the kind where I will dive into a bowl of pounded yam and egusi. I won't be greedy about it though, just take some little.
So, for now, I should just stick with the memories and savor them. Since I can’t have the food, I always have the stories and love that came with it.
all pictures are mine.
There are various entries organized by @leogrowth.
This post is in collaboration with the @hivenaija community and an entry to day 14 of #januaryinleo in #inleo,I am inviting you to check it out,so you could as well partake in various interesting writing prompts.
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