CHERISHED MEMORIES
If anyone asks me what some of my fondest memories are, it will definitely be defined by those moments I spent at my grandparents place eating from the same bowl with my cousins.
The days that started with huddling around a steaming bowl of pap in the morning, cutting morsels of food from a plate with sweat dripping down our bodies in the afternoon, and sitting under the moon and stars at night, clinking spoons on a plate while my grandmother's voice wove moonlight tales. The love, the camaraderie, the laughter, the arguments are memories that hold a special place in my heart.
The step that began this journey of memories was when my parents decided during my long vacation after my primary 3 exams that I was old enough to spend the break with my grandparents without giving them too much trouble. Having hoped and prayed for this since forever, I was excited and immediately began dreaming and anticipating the day I will be traveling.
The fateful day eventually came, and after the hours spent on the road because of bad roads, various police stops, and traffic while traveling from Akure, Ondo State, we eventually got to Ibadan in Oyo State.
We were welcomed with hugs, kisses, and an oriki rendition by my grandmother, which I later got to know was about praising my father's lineage. Already stressed and tired, I tapped my dad to ask him when we will be getting our dinner, and my grandmother, who overheard me, laughed and announced that she had already made her special ‘Abula’ meal, which is amala with gbegiri and ewedu soup garnished with bush meat and dry fish, to welcome us. The meal sounded strange to me since we either ate the amala with gbegiri or ewedu back at home, but since I was already very hungry and the meal was smelling mouthwatering, I quickly sat down at the dining table in preparation to eat.
As my grandma and housekeeper began to bring the dishes out, I rose to help set the dining table only to be passed by to the varenda. I followed them and found my grandfather and dad already seated on a locally made mat spread out with a washing hand basin before them as if it were a normal practice. Minutes later, after prayers and hand washing, everyone dug into the bowl of Amala, molding it into a ball and using it to scoop the already mixed ewedu and gbegiri soup. Stories flowed from mouth to mouth, laughter ringing out loud sometimes accompanied by a cough caused by almost choking on the food, but that moment with many of its kind that came with my visitation to my grandparents home on occasion felt more like a family meal than any at a dining table could afford.
I am much older now, a secondary school student. My grandparents' house is no longer the same, with my grandfather dead and my grandmother living with one of my aunt's family, but those days taught me lessons that might have taken years to learn. How to give respect to those older than me by letting them have a go at the plate of food first (although anything less would have earned me a smack on the head), and how to be sacrificial even with seemingly little things like sometimes leaving the last piece of meat to a younger one.
Dedicated to my grandparents; Late Grandpa and Grandma Akinwande.
In the comments section can you guys please let me know about some of your fondest memories while growing up… and let’s not forget to give this piece 50 claps.
