Settling down in Florence was fine, but there were some areas of my life that remained unsettled. Are you trying to guess? It’s as simple as it gets… FOODDDD!!! Yes food was a big issue for me. The person who said food is the keys to a man’s heart apparently had foresight.

I had always heard that Italians were great cooks but on getting here, I was more than disappointed. Averagly (when I say average, I mean very average) Italian meal with a drink would cost me between €10 – €15 that is (N2,300 - N3450). That was bloody expensive when compared to Nigeria. Cost of food was definitely a challenge, but If the challenge was cost alone, then I might not be complaining. The food was also ridiculously small and tasteless. Some people would disagree with me, but “wallahi”, if u love Nigerian food, you cannot love this Italian food. It’s totally bland.

For those who think I am exaggerating, assuming I buy spaghetti pomodoro (spaghetti in tomato sauce) and water the average cost is 9 euros. That’s over 2000 Naira. When I say spaghetti, I mean spaghetti alone. No chicken, beef or fish, just spaghetti and tomato that’s all. Enough about the lamentation

There has to be a way forward, “Naija no dey ever carry last”. I decided it was time to be cooking my meals. As a guy, my cooking philosophy was pretty simple… “If I can cook it, I can eat it.” I had noodles everyday for the first two weeks until I discovered the African market. I realized that cooking was way cheaper than eating out. Spending 50 euros on foodstuff could last me for a month, while that could barely take me for 2 days if I had to eat out.

The joy in me knew no bounds as I bought foodstuffs I would require for the month (omo see as I just dey blush anyhow unto food matter). On getting home, I made myself a pot of chicken stew and rice (Yes stew and not sauce). See the smiles on my face as I did justice to my food. Little did I know that I would not taste my Nigerian food again for a long while. I was so happy I invited my housemates and cooked rice for them as well, after all there was stew. They ate and approved of my cooking. We were just getting acquainted and I was the first to host them. As usual, we Nigerians are known for our hospitality.

Till my pot of stew finished, I kept on having rice and stew with chicken. Though monotonous, it still tasted better than eating out plus it was 90% cheaper. Lest I forget, I had two housemates and they were Indians. They also realized it was cheaper to cook. We bonded fast and well enough that we did the general house stuffs in common. We also had some common Indian friends who were always at our crib, which sometimes made me confused if I was actually in India or in Italy.

Since we did a lot together and they (housemates plus friends) always ate together, it would be odd for me to eat alone. That marked the beginning of my Indian (south indian to be specific) diet. I decided we could contribute to buy foodstuffs and once in a while, I would also make some Nigerian dishes for them (it never happened). Originally it wasn’t like I loved the Indian food, but at least, it had some spices in them. It wasn’t bland and to cap it all, I didn’t have to cook (Yes, I can cook but I hate cooking).

That was how I totally forgot my Nigerian meals and started eating Indian food. I learnt to eat with my hands, learnt to make chapaties, tandories, samba, curries, chetnies etc (pardon me if I murdered the spellings). First thing I discovered was that the rich indian food was like poor Nigerian food. Rice and gravy (something like stew) without chicken. One of my housemates doesn’t even eat beef at all, so that wasn’t an option. “How person go chop without beef?” Well culture is different.

After having the “balanced” Indian diet for over 5 month, I don forget the taste of beef totally. I got used to eating with my hands and rice without chicken (I never experrreeet it). The school went on vacation and my housemates decided to travel back to India. By the way, I never had Nigerian male friends. I had these two Nigerian Ladies in school with me, but they were just school friends not cooking friends.

For some reasons all the Nigerian guys I met all had English and Christian names. Their name was Miracle, Christian, Benjamin, Gods Power, Gods Will, Testimony, Prosper, Promise etc. They were all from Edo or Delta State. I was being very careful in making my friends so I just stuck to my school friends. That was even better as 85% of the school’s populations were babes.

Since my housemates left, I became tired of cooking and just stuck to some basic food like Jolof rice (concoction actually), Noodles, Pasta and Spagetthi. They were so easy to prepare and very cheap to source. My meals became monotonous until last Sunday when Nehemiah came to my house. I met Nehemiah in church and since he was Nigerian we bonded a little. He was from Agbor, Delta state. He decided to walk me home. I was skeptical at first, but why should I be scared of my fellow brother. He talked about, how he came to Europe, how things have not been what he expected and all. I didn’t know him so much neither did I know his mission so I was very careful with the stuffs I said.

When he was leaving he told me he had an apartment and if I knew anyone who was interested, I should give him a shout out. He also promised to come take me there the following Saturday so I can see the apartment and explain to my friends. No wahala boss, just ring me on sat and we go relate, I replied

By 11am on Saturday, Nehemiah called me and said we should meet at the train station, damn it!!! I had totally forgotten. I rushed a bath, grabbed a sandwich and dashed to the station. By the time I got to the station and called, to find out where he was, he said he would be there in 10 minuites (This guy carry Naija time reach here sha, Oga ooo). I had my sandwich as waited for him. He called after 12 minutes and told me he was at the station.

Nehemiah: Guy no vex abeg, my landlord come collect money this morning (don’t be annoyed, my landlord came to collect his rent this morning).
Me: Ok, no problem. So where is the house.
Nehemiah: Its 15 minuites by bus, but lets quickly go to this Nigerian restaurant, I am hungry.
Me: Dude, I have other things I have to do today, you cannot call me to waste my time. This makes no sense.
Nehemiah: Guy, no vex abeg, I swear you no go regreat this place. Nah where e dey happen for here be that. U nah Yoruba boy nah, egusi, efo, poundi… guy, u never go this place before? (Don’t be annoyed, I promise you eont regret going there. That’s where all the Nigerians meet here. You are a Yoruba boy; they have all your local dishes. How come you haven’t visited this place before)
Me: Make we dey go, but abeg no dey waste my time like this ooo, I no dey feel am at all (Lets go, but don’t waste my time like this again. I don’t like it)
Neehemiah: All this yourba boys sef, una too dey complain (Yoruba boys can complain)

After walking for about 10 minuites, we got to the restaurant. When you pray for the Lord to order your steps, this is what the prayer is about. My steps were ordered. See egusi, semo, efo, edikaikang. This is the place to be mehn. It just reminded me of Whitehouse in Yaba. Even if this is going to cost a €100, I must “chop” this food. While I was still thinking, Nehemiah said guy, make I pay for your food. U know say nah me bring you comot, maybe tomorrow nah you go pay for me (let me pay for your meal, you know I brought you out, you might be the one paying for me tomorrow). I don’t know what his plans were, but I wasn’t going to reject that offer.

Nehemiah: Madam, please give us two plates of amala with ewedu soup.
Me: Guy, I no dey chop Amala, give me poundi with egusi (I don’t eat amala, give me pounded yam with egusi)
Nehemiah: Madam, I pounded yam and one amala. Bring two bottles of tenant also
Me: Guy, u just dey order u no even ask wetin person wan chop. I no dey drink beer, give me malt. (You just ordering without consulting me, I don’t drink beer, give me malt)
Nehemiah: You go be fake gee, how you no go drink beer. (You are a fake guy, how wont you drink beer). Ok… madam; make it one beer and one bottle of malt.
Me: Thanks bro.

We sat down as we heard people discussing about the happenings in Nigeria. A lots of half drunk political analyst who think they could run the country better than the current government (Actually, maybe they could). We also had sport analyst and prospective coaches as everyone talked at the top of their voices. This was the real Nigeria mehn, how come I never discovered this place before now. Right now I am living the life – mo ‘n je aye local ni foreign (I am having my local enjoyment life in a foreign land)

I listened to the conversations, but was careful not to join any. Our food soon arrived and it was time to eat. These days, I hardly remembered to pray before I eat but this food was so glorious I had to pray. As I finished praying my phone rang then I woke up to pick it…. it was Nehemiah.

Segs, ‘m sorry I can’t make it today again, I would be busy, but maybe sometimes next week. I checked the time and it was 9:am on Saturday. Guy, wetin you just talk (what did you just say). I said I am sorry I can’t make it today, hope you are not annoyed.


Damn... My food!!!!

Source: http://pencil-imaginations..it/2014/07/my-meeting-with-nehemiah-aye-local-ni.html

Ise aiye, ija aje