The Buka Experience

Hi, this didn’t happen to me oo. It happened to a friend who begged and begged and I do not publish his name. I am a good person and so I wouldn’t do so.

So let’s assume that his name is Michael. He was opportune to visit a buka in Ibadan with his Parents and one of his siblings.

(who no know sey Ibadan get the best amala buka)

It was actually his first time of visiting a buka and eating amala. They entered and he noticed some women turning amala in a big pot at the side of the restaurant.

Michael and the rest sat and a woman approached them some seconds later. “Iru amala wo le fe je? (Meaning, what kind of amala would you like to eat?)

“The black one”. His mother replied.

They were served and Michael took his plate of amala with ewedu on the top. When it was served, it felt like a sacrifice to him and he was like ‘Una do well oo’ as the aroma oozed through his nostrils.

He spread his legs and started to dig the amala. The stew was very thick and had a touch of the peppery gbegiri. He touched the food and it burnt his mouth. He blew air on his fingers and ignored the pain, swallowing the first mouthful. It hurt his tongue and burnt his throat all the way to his esophagus, small intestine, large intestine and stomach (I no know biology oo).

All the while, his family members kept staring at him, as they watched him dig the amala. He enjoyed every bit of the meal and even twenty-five years later, he still can remember the smell of the dish and the peculiar taste it had.

How did he complete his narration, “Yoruba buka, I say a big twalle for una. Una bad gan for this your amala oo”.

Hahahahaha!!!

Marya AbdulWahab, The Nitty Rants.

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