My first cooking experience
It was a cold evening, I had just got in from school
and hungry as hell. My phone vibrated in assurance
as my mum was calling, it was a message she
wanted to pass on. On picking up the phone, she
ordered me to make beans for dinner, Jeez, the
time was 7pm and if I’d start picking the beans to separate beans and stone, dinner
won’t be ready until maybe 10pm. So as a wise boy,
I poured the whole beans which was the last to
savour, added some water and raked the yellow
leafy beans coverings of not knowing there was
more than the yellow dirts.
By 8:30 dinner was ready, Mum and My Bro were
home, the aroma of the dish made them even pre-
salute me that I haven’t cooked such wonderful
meal before. As I set out to start eating I served
myself alone as the others weren’t that hungry.
Then I felt a few stones but was pouring it in
until I had one big one, “kpaoooo” it sounded and I
started blaming the Nigeria drink “Garri” which is
made out of Cassava. As I made the statement in
my native language “Garri yin kpa okuta” (this garri
has a bit of sand) and everyone fooled it off and
nodded in assurance that people don’t make good
garri nowadays and started remembering me of my
late Grand-father’s Garri making business in the
As mum set out to eat her’s, she took a few
stones, but she wondered why she was taking
stones when she wasn’t drinking the garri, and that
was were I lost it.
Mum: did you pick this beans very well
Me: I didn’t pick it because it was late.
As I said that everyone exclaimed “we are dead”.
That night everyone ate a spoonful with a hiss of
disappointment, although I was disappointed with
myself, I couldn’t reverse my action. Ever since
that day, mum has been punishing me by making me
cook Dinner every single day (except saturday’s)
and that’s how have become a better cook, but
becoming so wasn’t easy, there were days the salt
was excessive, too little and accurate, days I
cooked under gauge and I had to settle out by
making extra after everyone had eaten.
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