Someone asked me, what do u think about interracial friendship/relationship? I see you’ve got quite a number of friends. I burst into laughter and immediately responded…
It is getting your tastebuds acquainted with so many foods and shaking your head uttering repetitively ‘so delicious’ while trying to hold down your guts.
I remember one day I had stomach pain, my guyfriend cooked a weird kind of soup and brought it to me in bed. I summoned up courage and opened the big pot he placed in front of me and stared into a big liquid with some particles playing “soccer” on d surface.
I asked him what the ingredient used in preparing this delicacy was.. he showed me a maggi cube he bought in rewe and said it’s an already made soupy substance, so I just dropped into a pot of water nd left it to simmer for 10mins. I thought to myself, isn’t maggi supposed to be a food sweetner? Anyway, I was too sick and tired to get into an argument so I replied “wow… pretty cool” nd asked him to dish me some.
Of course, I’m already used to interracial SHIPS and one thing you never do is reject your friend’s foods, no matter how abominable it may look. You just don’t do it… NEVER. Mine is also never rejected even with my huge dose of pepper. That’s how friendships across cultures/races work. I remember when we just became friends, I cooked jollof rice and left a note informing him he could take if he wanted. He did eat some of it while I was in class and told me it was very nice when I returned. It was later when we already got very close and quite comfortable with each other I found out he actually isn’t a fan of rice, he loves spaghetti. I kicked him in the butt and laughed “but you ate my jollof rice and told me you liked it”. He laughed and said “but I wanted us to be friends.”
Anyway, I drank a little sout and acted like it was the best soup I ever had licking my huge lips and said “I’m fine… can I return to bed?
He replied “no it works best when you drink a lot.”
I stared at him and his pot of soup in abject misery.
He must have thought my stomach was real hurting at that moment.
It was just simply me thinking to myself “how can I avoid this recent case of interracial collision”.
I must confess though, he’s not a great cook. I’m a lazy cook and a ravenous eater so I’m not very picky. Most times I leave the decision making to him. We grab his big recipe book and proceed to the kitchen. I read out to him the ingredients and ‘methodology’ while he does the actual cooking. Quite a number of time, I’ve nodded my head like a lizard, it has become an unconscious action whenever I’m asked if the food is delicious while trying to hold down my guts.
One day my Bulgarian girl friend who decided to eat with us bursted out on the dining table when the usual what do you think about the food was put to us. She said “no this food is horrible and tasteless…. Ola, what do you think?”. I stared deeper into my plate and replied diplomatically “one man’s food is another man’s poison”. My English idiomatic expressions always saves the day
written by : Ola Talabi (Ola Dunni)
Thanks for reading