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When I was younger, the kitchen was
a woman space. It was where aunties gathered during Christmas to tend to large pots of rice and stew, and to gossip in- between all the chopping and stirring. The kitchen was my mother's domain, the place where she worked her magic. She would walk in with nothing but raw ingredients and walk back out with an assortment of delicious food in amazing quantities, enough to feed our family of five for weeks. In my mother's day, a young Nigerian girl would sit in the kitchen as her mother worked to pick up all her culinary tricks, and help out with the preparation. In her day, I would have stood by her side beating spices in the mortar and pestle, learning how to stir the starch so it didn't form into inedible balls.
But when I was younger, I wasn't interested in this women's space. I hated the idea of doing something just because I was a girl, because everyone expected me to grow up and become a wife, and then a mother. I wanted to run around, and read books in the afternoon sun. My mother would call for me to help in the kitchen, and I would find a way to slip away from her. I picked up a few basic cooking skills, but just enough to not starve. I learned to boil rice without burning it, how to season my indomie noodles to my liking, and that was about it.
It wasn't until I went off to University in the States that my relationship with cooking changed. I missed home food, and there were no Nigerian restaurants in my tiny college town. I was tired of burgers and chicken wings and (gasp!) stir fry. I wanted my mother's banga soup, her jollof rice, her stew, and that meant I had to tackle those recipes for myself.
I could have reached out to her to ask for her guidance, but I stopped myself from calling. I wanted to do it for myself.
I wanted to form my own flavors, and make mistakes, and get better with each
preparation. I didn't want my kitchen to be women's space. I wanted it to be mine. I can't say that I did it all on my own. I owe my life
(and my perfectly stewed beans) to @kikifoodies on Instagram and the other Nigerian women doing the Lord's work by putting their recipes out on the internet for beginner chefs like me.
I think that it's important for everyone to have basic cooking skills, whether they're a man or a woman. There is nothing quite like feeding yourself, putting in all that time and sweat (and sometimes tears) and ending up with a finished product you can be proud of.
PAGE 27 INSIDE ACCESS | APRIL 2021 4TH EDITION