Let me tell you the story of a day that started as a completely ordinary one, those kinds that aren’t even trying to be memorable.
I was at a small roadside buka, the type where the plastic chairs wobble slightly and you have to double them. Where the server has church grandma arms, so you know their amala will bang.
I ordered white rice, dry beans, two beef and five ponmo. See ehn, I like ponmo die. I don’t know about y’all saying ponmo has no nutrients. Afterall ponmo is skin, skin has keratin, and keratin is protein.
Ponmo that is brown and pale. Soft and hard. Elastic and crunchy. Ponmo that is turgid and wiggles. Ponmo that is the archetype of the Yoruba word form, ‘Kffkf’ (Konsonanti Faweli Faweli Konsonanti Faweli).
To think we’ve had a government in this country that tried to ban ponmo. SMDH! Where are they now?
Any way, I digress.
This woman serving me gives me a look and says, “E ma pada wa gba extra stew o”, meaning don’t come back and collect extra stew o. I thought to myself, “Hmm. Rude and sassy”, maybe I should have ordered that amala. It is popular knowledge that rude food vendors have the best amala, gbegiri and ewedu.
I sat down, took one spoonful and then it hit me. I had been here before.
Not just here as in the place, but in this exact moment.
The same chipped blue table. The same man in a Chelsea jersey arguing loudly on the phone about “My brother, I said send it yesterday!” Even the same buff fly that looks like it goes to the gym, doing olympic-level laps around my plate.
And then my brain whispered, “You know what happens next.”
I froze. Because some how I did. The woman would walk past and almost drop a tray. Then the man would shout, “I swear!” and knock over his drink.
And this was the part that was frightening, I would choke slightly on my next swallow.
I stared at my spoon. No, we’re not doing this today.
So, I decided to outsmart the universe. I put the spoon down. No choking today, thank you very much. I leaned back, crossed my arms, and waited. Feeling very powerful. Very in control.
Then it began.
The woman walked past, tray wobbling dangerously.
I sat up. “Wait… wait…”
The man shouted, right on cue, “I SWEAR!”
His drink tipped. Spilled everywhere.
I stood up, triumphant. “Aha! I knew it!” And that’s when it happened.
Because in my excitement, I laughed while chewing the food I had forgotten was still in my mouth.
And I choked. Right there in front of everyone. Coughing like a faulty generator.
The woman dropped the tray anyway. The man stared at me like I had personally caused his spill. And as I sat back down and quietly picked up my spoon again, I thought to myself, “Clearly, God has a sense of humour.”
