Illustration by Kingsley Chibueze / THE REPUBLIC.
THE MINISTRY of arts / books dept.
Eating With Buchi Emecheta
Illustration by Kingsley Chibueze / THE REPUBLIC.
THE MINISTRY of arts / books dept.
Eating With Buchi Emecheta
He who brings kola, brings life.
Onye wetalu oji, wetalu ndu.
The Joys of Motherhood. You wouldn’t know just from the title of Buchi Emecheta’s 1979 novel that this book is full of what-may-have-begun-as-hope-but-ended-up-in-sorrow-and-irony. I did not ‘get’ the subtext at first as a teenager who wanted four children: two girls and two boys. I didn’t read it for many years, instead burying my head and heart in Pacesetters’ novels. And then I finally read it as an adult, as a parent, a mother of three: two girls and one boy. Tragically bittersweet. Are there glimmers of hope? Perhaps, because Nnu Ego—daughter, sister, wife, mother, protagonist—becomes the mother she desires, several times over. But the painful reality soon dawns, of being woman, mother, child, embroidered and woven together in the multiplicity of traditional beliefs, British colonialism, life in the village and in the city, all in early 1940s Nigeria. Is it different today?
The Joys of Motherhood was the fifth book of 18 published by Emecheta (1944-2017)—mother, sociologist, youth worker, professor of literature, and a champion for women everywhere. Her work explores the lot of women, in and outside of Nigeria, looking at place, time and the changes and chaos that people, families, communities experience because of poverty, misogyny and patriarchy. She explores the double standards that impose apparent and differing values between the boy and girl child. Her writing is not without grounded truths; Emecheta was married at 16, living in London at 18, and had the courage to leave an abusive marriage to become a single parent at 22, fending for herself and five children. Her stories are about struggle, freedom, survival and hope.
Nnu Ego experiences everything from intense joy to deep sorrow and abandonment in The Joys of Motherhood. Pain, hopes, dreams, terrors, concerns, confusions, madness, distress, tears, laughter, sleepless nights, heartache, loneliness, community, happiness, excitement, silence, voice, courage, defiance, stubbornness, grace, despair and more…of motherhood. The imaginaries were many, and they did not manifest in the dreamt-of or hoped-for ways of joy and ease. Such was life for Nnu Ego, stunning royal bride and wife twice over. Painfully, too, because what really should have been the joys and burdens of parenthood singled her out—as mother. As it does many women today.
IN PARALLEL, KOLA NUTS AND LIFE
Bittersweet.
Like the kola nut. Of which there are ten mentions in this book, which is set between Ibuza in the south-east and Lagos in the south-west of Nigeria. The kola nut in Igbo cosmology is king, and life, and no event, no meeting, begins without breaking kola—‘red’ kola to be specific, different from the light yellow to green Hausa kola, goro. I can say (with a high degree of confidence) that most Nigerians know about the kola nut and its significance in our beliefs and practices. Though I’m not Igbo—I’m Igarra—I grew up experiencing kola in a similar way; broken, with prayer to open the event, with plates or trays passed around for everyone to take a tiny piece at traditional gatherings, from weddings to celebrations, for chieftaincy titles, deaths, births, and more.
The first time we encounter the kola nut in The Joys of Motherhood, it accompanies ‘your best drink’, which is palm wine. ‘Obi Umunna approached and said airily: “So how is the lucky man? You are very lucky, my friend. Bring your best drink and kolanuts and let us pray for long life and thank your chi for rescuing you,”’ Emecheta writes. Obi Umunna (Nnu Ego’s grandfather) is speaking with Agbadi (Nnu Ego’s father) who is in bed, gravely ill—the victim of a near-death elephant encounter while hunting.
Not long after, Idayi—Agbadi’s closest and oldest friend—calls for prayers: ‘Kolanut and palm wine are here … Let us pray to our ancestors.’ For health.
Three weeks later, Agunwa, Agbadi’s first wife, dies after an illness. During the burial rites, Ona, Nnu Ego’s mother, also falls ill; she is pregnant but doesn’t know it yet. Concerned, Agbadi, who is also Ona’s lover, enlists his friend’s help. ‘My friend Idayi, take the burial kolanut and finish the ceremony … Umunna’s daughter Ona wants to die on me, too.’
And so the journey of the kola nut continues; from prayer and meditation to celebration; from breaking bad news to sharing welcoming ones. It is in the hands of the dibia—the medicine man and healer—interceding for Nnu Ego’s health as a child in Ibuza; it features in the joyous gathering in Lagos when Nnu Ego’s second marriage yields fruit—real fruit in the birth of her second (and only surviving son) Oshiaju. Nnaife, Nnu Ego’s second husband, buys kola for a farthing and, walking, chews on it in contemplation, thinking of his life and future because the foreigners he’d worked with had been repatriated, leaving him without a job. Even in the chaos of what’s to follow when Nnaife becomes the head of the Owulum family with his older brother’s passing, inheriting his wives and children, there’s kola—presented by Nnu Ego—along with ogogoro, a distillate of palm wine. And when Nnaife is arrested and imprisoned, for all his efforts, Lawyer Nwese is rewarded with ‘…all she had in the way of kolanuts and bunches of spinach from her small plot nearby…’
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THE REVERED KOLA NUT, BROKEN AND COOKED
Across Nigeria, you’d be hard-pressed to find recipes where the kola nut manifests in anything but its popular iteration: broken in bits. That is, unless you go (even) farther east to the land of the Yakurr people in Cross River, where yedem’blong shines. It is a dish of bright green, fresh okana leaves (also known as afang or okazi), pomo, dry fish, garden eggs and kola nuts. Its name is derived from yedem (that which is of men) and blong (things) to literally mean ‘things that are of men.’ I’m not sure that this has gendered implications because everyone is allowed to partake of yedem’blong. The platter, typically set out for friends and family members, is accompanied by a hot pepper sauce, fragrant with toasted ehuru and sometimes studded with roasted groundnuts, or toasted, chopped ogbono. To enjoy? Leaf wraps are made, filled with slivers or chunks of kola nut, dry fish and other delights, then dipped into the pepper sauce before eating. To drink? Palm wine works well.
I first tried this in 2017 and fell deeply in love. After eating the leaf wraps, I spooned the leftovers on chunks of boiled yam, some mashed yam, and topped with shredded greens, dry fish broken into bits, pepper sauce, pomo, and garden eggs with chunks of kola nut. It made me think of Nnu Ego when she first arrived in Lagos to meet Nnaife, her second husband. The day after her arrival, Nnu Ego wants to go to the market so she can cook for her husband, but she is exhausted after a long night of her husband getting to know her. Her brother-in-law who’d brought her to Lagos advises, ‘Don’t go to that market today; we shall use the fish and the yams we brought.’ I feel as though if she knew about yedem’blong, she might have assembled it instead of responding with, ‘But your brother’s friends will come to eat the food cooked by a new wife—suppose they realize that it’s only fishy soup and no meat?’ Her brother-in-law replies with a sympathetic smile, ‘I will tell them that I like only fishy soup.’
Yams feature in this book, from start to finish. As gifts for Ona—Nnu Ego’s mom—at Nnu Ego’s birth; for Nnu Ego’s hand in marriage with her first husband, Amatokwu; during the yam harvest when this same husband’s love has turned sour; in a welcoming dish of pounded yam and okazi soup when she arrives in Lagos to meet Nnaife; and in the delicious, life-giving yam stew—or pottage—Nnu Ego’s neighbour, Iyawo Itsekiri, makes that restores health and life to Oshia, Nnu Ego’s son. I think Nnu Ego would have enjoyed this dish.
But back to the kola nut. Yedem’blong is one of two recipes I know where the kola nut is venerated by the palate. The other? A kola nut drink from the first comprehensive cookbook on Nigerian cuisine, Miss Williams Cookery Book (1957) by Nigerian author Miss Rhoda Omosunlola Williams (later Mrs Johnston-Smith). In the book, Williams shares a recipe for a kola drink where the kola nuts are crushed and infused in sweet, hot water—like tea. And though I’m familiar with kola nuts and the connection to cola drinks, I had never thought of a variation of the drink as something that also existed at home, in Nigeria. The recipe opens with, ‘Choose red kola nuts.’ And so I do, carefully checking that the kola nuts have more than two lobes as the one-lobed or two-lobed ones have spiritual significance in Igbo cosmology.
Miss Williams wisely advises readers to make sure the mortars they use are free of pepper. Her final words? ‘Only people who eat kola like this drink; and they prefer it taken hot.’ And so I set out to make it, and on the journey, feeling my way about and making it up as I go along, I think about Nnu Ego and her resilience even in the face of great disappointment. I think of the questions of love and worth she battled with, sometimes with a guilty conscience; like when she was mean to a guest of her co-wife, Adaku, who was away, and then shortly after, on Adaku’s return, welcoming this same guest with kola. Honour given, depending on the circumstances.
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NEWISH EXPLORATIONS
I think of Nnu Ego and her life’s journey as I begin with Miss William’s recipe for the kola nut drink, which is a list of ingredients—a great one—but without measurements. I know this path will be winding and the discoveries many: like red (really purple) kola nuts oxidize, turning rust orange mere seconds after contact with a metal grater, unlike the chunks which retain their colour; that the syrup is a bright tea-orange, not brown like cola drinks which are coloured with caramel; that heat, water and sugar change what would otherwise be syrup into a gel, viscous like okra, and it is no surprise because they are in the same family, along with hibiscus and cocoa—but if you blend this mixture, it will restore the syrupy consistency. And though the leftover shreds resemble coconut shreds, they do not make great candy—staying soft, never hardening, not even when frozen. My journey went from kola nut drink to smoothie, jelly and candy. And through it all, the kola nut changes form but not flavour or aroma. In some cases, the sweetness works well—syrup, jelly, smoothie. And in others, the bitterness cannot be ignored—kola nut candy; and even then, there are hints of sweetness, of possibility. And it was worth it⎈
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