Alapa Stainless: A Memoir of Growth and Discovery

 

"Alapa Stainless" is a term used by Western Yoruba parents, especially mothers, for those deemed lazy. It's a label I once wore, albeit reluctantly, as I journeyed through my childhood.

Growing up, chores weren't exactly my favourite pastime. Washing dishes? Not a problem. But washing, fetching and sweeping weren't my favourites. I would often spend hours washing plates. I'd even sell puff-puff with the lather from the detergent until my mum called me to task. My aunt playfully named me "Genli girl," poking fun at my perceived fragility and occasional boneless demeanour though I assure you, I had more spirit than that nickname suggested.

Secondary school brought new challenges. I was tasked with laundering my siblings' socks, a chore I despised. Mine were always pristine, reflecting my love for cleanliness and distaste for strenuous labour, but my siblings' offerings were less than appealing. Despite my indifference to traditional domestic duties, I admired my neighbour, Idowu, who effortlessly tackled household chores. Her industriousness earned her praise, but I remained indifferent, prioritizing my interests and focusing on the basics – survival cooking, you might call it.

Fast forward to university, and my culinary skills were… limited. Rice? Nailed it. Vegetables? More like a disaster. Egusi soup? Forget about it. Then I met Peace, my 100-level roommate whose Vegetable cooking prowess left me in awe. From the safety of my bunk bed, I absorbed her every move, gleaning the secrets of how she cooked her vegetable soup. Armed with my newfound knowledge and a Sunday afternoon visit to my grandma's (smoked fish, vegetable and pepper in hand!), I was ready for my own "Efo Riro" experiment.

The next day, Monday, was a public holiday, and it presented the perfect opportunity to declare a feast to some of my friends." With a bag of Semovita untouched since the semester began, I started my "victory cook." The aroma of my cooking filled the air, and as I tasted my vegetable soup, a sense of triumph washed over me. That day, I conquered vegetable soup and mastered the art of semo-making, Amala-style, sans the cold water trick. This victory marked the birth of other culinary delights that became synonymous with my identity till I graduated from Uni until now.

It wasn't an overnight transformation, of course. Laundry still remains a chore I tolerate rather than embrace. But I've learned to manage, even conquer, when necessary. I've come a long way from my "Alapa Stainless" days.

What's your "alapa stainless" story?