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Moyege and I were having lunch. I ordered ikọkọrẹ and she ordered asaro. I took a sip of my drink, chilled malt. She shared with me how her week went and the lovely role her sister had played in making her feel better.
Moyege: Derbrah, I’ve often wondered why there is no sister’s day, brother’s day, wives day or husband’s day. We have women’s day and children’s day. What about men’s day, boys’day and girls’ day?
“I have no idea.” I responded. “Come to think of it I’ve not heard of an auntie’s day, widows day or uncles’ day. Perhaps there are but they are not as popular as the others.
Moyege: I know. There’s no sisters day but there’s mother’s day. No widower’s day but there’s father’s day. There should be a day for everybody. I want a sisters’ day.
“There are only 365 days a year. How many days can we dedicate to honor people? I asked.
Moyege: As many as we can. Mother’s day is in May, Father’s day in June, Grandparents day in September and…
Kẹmi came in with a lady. Saluting us she indicated she would join our table. Her friend (Oyinkan) was introduced and our conversation continued. A waiter came to attend to them.
Moyege: Kẹmi, did you ever wonder why there is no men’s day, boys’ day and girl’s day and others like that?
Kẹmi: No. What difference does having a day mean?
Moyege: It’s a way to honor the position, the person and the job.
Kẹmi: I don’t care, whatever.
Our food arrived and when Kẹmi saw ikokore she said “It’s been a while I ate ikokore. I think I’ll have that as well.” Oyinkan too ordered ikokore.
Moyege: So I’m the only one eating asaro. Well I’ll order ikokore to go.
“That’s an idea.” I seconded. “I should have some ọjọjọ to go.”
Kẹmi: Ọjọjọ, my, my. It’s been ages since I ate that.
Oyinkan: I had some last week
Kẹmi explained, “She just returned from
Lagos.”
Moyege: How’s everyone at home?
Oyinkan: They are doing the best they can.
That was how we began to talk about
Nigeria and Nigerian issues. We discussed our joys and our disappointments. Oyinkan informed us about a state on the East Coast that recently created a Nigeria Friendship Day. We were pleased with the decision. Their order arrived and Kẹmi requested for the pepper shake after taking a bite.
Moyege: You are such a ‘pepperlite’. That looks spicy enough.
Kẹmi: Taste it and you’ll know. Moyege tasted the ikọkọre and responded;
Moyege: This is spicy enough.
Kẹmi shook her head and Moyege continued, “Anyway, original Yorubas eat pepper. I am half-baked. It has to be mild spice for me.”
Oyinkan hi-fived Moyege and announced, “I used to get into arguments with my mom over the degree of spice in our stew. Yorubas eat too much pepper.”
Kẹmi looked to me for support then retorted; “I forgot you are pepperless too!”
“Look at it this way.” I started. “It takes me a while to take the burning effect of pepper off my tongue so I figured I’d stay away for my health’s sake.”
Kẹmi: You are all fake Yorubas. Oduduwa ate pepper, the real thing! She shook pepper all over her plate from the shaker.
We all laughed. Oyinkan responded “Oduduwa sure did not pass that pepper gene to me. I run away from that stuff.”
“I only enjoy pepper in pepper soup and on meat.” I explained. “Anything else is asking for trouble.”
Moyege: I take pepper all the time. Kẹmi is just too strung on the stuff. It’s almost an addiction.
Kẹmi: All I know is true Yorubas eat pepper. You all are not genuine.
Oyinkan: So we should call ourselves certified copies eh? Pepperless Yorubas are certified copies. Only peppery Yorubas are real, yeah, yeah.
Moyege: Genuine indeed. I speak Yoruba more than she does. I wear the clothes more than she does. I understand the culture more than she does. So eating ata rodo or şọmbọ makes her more genuine? Yeah right!
Kẹmi: I understand the culture more than you. I spent most of my life in
Nigeria. You’ve been here for the past twenty years. Mine is ten. You lived in
Lagos
State when you were in
Nigeria, I lived in Ọşun state, the original Yoruba town. Who said you are more Yoruba than me?
Moyege: I lived in Ọyọ town before I moved to
Lagos state. I am still more Yoruba.
“That’s something that needs definition.” I started.
Oyinkan: What needs definition?
“Yoruba or should I say quality of Yoruba.” I responded “How is Yoruba defined? Is it the language, the people, the customs, the religion, the physical land, the attire and or the food? What really can we say is Yoruba or Yorubaness?
Moyege: Everything
Kẹmi: If it’s everything, then who has more or less?
Oyinkan: Let’s take the religion. I am a Christian. Based on religion I won’t be classified Yoruba. However, based on the food, some aspects of the culture, residency, attire and language, I am. So there, am I more Yoruba than you?
Moyege: You are a Christian. That’s good to know. Please don’t be offended, but there are so many Christians nowadays. Could you explain what you mean by the term Christian?
Oyinkan: I gave my life to Jesus Christ fifteen years ago. I believe that Jesus rose from the dead for the sins of humanity and I declare Him as the Christ, which means the physical image of the spiritual God. He is my Lord and I am His slave. Does that match your definition of a Christian?
Moyege: Yes it does. Once again pleased to meet you my sister.
“I guess we should have a sisters day eh?” I teased Moyege.
Oyinkan: I’m glad you asked me that. There are many people who call themselves Christians but are just lying through their teeth.
Moyege: Yes there are. Many so-called Christians are swindlers, back biters, idolaters and perpetrators of every kind of evil you can imagine.
Oyinkan: I know. There are two kinds of Christians, those who love God and those who don’t.
Kẹmi: Those who love god obey His word and those who don’t disobey.
“As simple as a, b, c.” I put in. “The only piece is there are two classes of disobedience. There is disobedience from ignorance which can be corrected by information and there is disobedience from rebellion which is corrected through judgment.”
Moyege: For some there is no correction at all. They realize too late.
Oyinkan: Those were never Christians. Just wannabes.
Kẹmi: Back to my ethnic superiority. You do not eat pepper. You are not full Yoruba.
Moyege: You changed your name to KristiKẹmi. Are you less Yoruba?
Oyinkan: You changed your name? I like that. I’ve been thinking of changing my middle name.
“What’s your middle name?” I asked.
Oyinkan: Iyabọ.
Moyege: What’s wrong with that?
Kẹmi: It’s the reincarnation implication. You know, just like Yetunde, Mamapadawa, Yeyejide, Iyatunwa and the like.
Moyege: Oh. I see. But that’s not possible. Once a person dies that it.
Oyinkan: That’s why I don’t want to respond to a name like that. Since I don’t believe in the doctrine behind it, why should I respond to the name all my life?
Moyege finished her meal and nodded her head. She reached into her purse and brought out a sandwich bag full of orogbo [Garcina kola heckel].
Kẹmi: I love hot spice, you love orogbo. You must eat it after each meal.
Moyege: I told you I was more Yoruba than you.
Turning to Oyinkan I responded, “I understand. The choice is yours. I changed the spelling of my name to help people pronounce it better. I wasn’t feeling that Debo, Debo most people say.”
Kẹmi and Moyege laughed and teased “Deboooorah, pade mi lẹhinsin (Deb-o-rah meet me after service – taken from a comedy script).
Oyinkan: Ọmọ kaarọ ojire.
It’s good to gist and have fun over a plate of ikọkọrẹ.
Derbrah writes courtesy of Agape for All Ministries. Author retains copyright.
Jadesọla’s restaurant is a drama ministry of the Yoruba Christian Women (YCW), an international faith-based non-governmental, not-for-profit organization. Similarity of names and stories are coincidental. Feel free to copy for non-commercial use. Commercial use requires permission. For more information on YCW write Jesutoyin Ajikẹ-King (toyinking@yahoo.com).
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Posted by Robot| 25.07.2007 08:47