Dear hometown, I’m sorry. I denied you for food last week.
Last week Saturday will remain unforgettable in my head. While I was in junior secondary school, we were always asked in exams to write about the days we could never forget. The questions always came in funny ways.
Question 1: Write essay on the topic: The Day I Will Never Forget.
Question 2: Write a comprehensive essay on the topic: An Unforgettable Experience.
Question 3: Write an essay of not more than 400 words on the topic: The Day I will forever Remember.
I always wrote lies. I can remember I once wrote about my visit to Lagos. I wrote that I visited the Bar Beach, I wrote that I went to ‘the amusement park’ with my friends and family. Then, I would hear people talk about amusement parks, I never really knew what they meant so I thought it was a particular place and therefore had to carry the article ‘the’. I wrote some other crazy lies. Why? Simply because, seriously, what experience is that one that I cannot forget? Which day will I keep remembering till I go six feets deep? There was none then. But now, there are too many to write about. I will write about this particular experience that I can never forget.
It happened last week Saturday. The time was around 11am. I was in my room planning my day. I had just woken up some two hours before. Then, Oluwatosin, my friend came to visit me. He was dressed up for a meeting both of us were supposed to go. He didn’t know I had planned not to go for the meeting. Before I go further, I think it’s important that I tell you how my day goes every Saturday.
The day starts by 12pm every Saturday. I always have MINE Teenage Ministry Meeting by 12pm. That ends by 1pm. I will play with friends for a while. I have another meeting by 4pm which will last till 6pm. And then another will start by 6pm which will then go on till 8pm. By then, I am exhausted already and I go straight to my room and shut down or, if I still have enough strength, drag myself to Academics to read.
But last Saturday was different. After my MINE meeting by 1pm, my friend dropped the good news: Ekiti people were doing Ekiti Day somewhere in the school and they were going to share pounded yam. That was all that I needed to hear. Pounded yam! I had not eaten pounded yam this year. Even though I was an Ogbomoso boy, we both went to First Bank Lecture Theatre where the show was happening.
They were mid-way into the program when we entered. Thanks be to God, I was wasnt dressed in any English style that Saturday. I looked Ekiti enough. I greeted those I knew in the hall.I was surprised when I saw one of my Igbo friends in the Ekiti People’s Day program. ‘When did you become a Yoruba person?’ I asked. He laughed it off. At that moment, I realized that Food is a very powerful weapon.
I made my way to the forefront and sat down confidently as though I was the one they were expecting. My friend Tosin sat beside me and we waited patiently for the real deal. As though God had ordered our steps, they started serving pounded yam some thirty minutes after we entered. When I saw the food, I lost consciousness. I had not eaten pounded yam this year. I left home for school on the second day of the year and so I didn’t get the chance to eat yam not to talk of the pounded one. But here, right before my big black eyes, was pounded yam with Egusi soup. Little wonder people kill for food.
In ten minutes, it was all over. I had devoured the whole thing and I was licking my lips. I hungered for more but I didn’t want to be a glutton. So I got up, greeted my people and walked out with my friend and four of my roommates.
We had not walked for long when we stumbled upon another ceremony somewhere close. I still don’t know what drove us there. Perhaps it was the pounded yam doing its work within us. We approached the canopy and my roommate was about going under and taking his seat when a police officer emerged. Instantly, I picked up my phone and faked a call. I could hear Tosin doing the same, telling the imaginary caller that he was in Amsterdam. One of my roommates was not so lucky. The officer asked him what he wanted and he was short of words. We laughed it off and walked away.
Some five minutes later, we heard the sound of celebration from Pit Theatre. We did not need prophets to tell us ‘stomach infrastructure’ would be provided. We made our way there. We were at the entrance when the servers passed in front of us with trays. Guess what they were serving? Pounded Yam!
We took our seats. As we later got to know, it was Ile-Ife Day. It mattered not. We were all living in Ile-Ife for now. We were served two wraps of pounded yam with Egusi soup and beef. It was joy beyond measure. We gladly consumed the meal and walked away. We were more than satisfied.
That was how last week Saturday went fellas. Today is another Saturday. Pray that the Lord of Light shines his light upon me as I step out. May I find pounded yam. Amen.
PS: I have been absent for a while and it’s only polite that I apologize and tell you why I have been absent. That should have been the content of this post. But then pounded yam interrupted. So sorry readers. Very soon, I’ll write a detailed post explaining why I took a break from blogging. Watch this space!