Friday, 19 June 2015

Does cooking make you a better bae?

I got you with the title, didn't I? No, this post is not about baes and cooks biko. There's enough of that on twitter.

You guys totally need to see Spy. Some rib cracking stuff in there. Miranda Lambert has or used to have a program on BBC called Miranda about herself. You should see that too. No one does humour like the Brits.

But that's not why I came here. Remember I was telling you about fat America. Well, there's something really small about them; their shorts. Everyone, I mean every one wears bum shorts and you're thinking didn't they have enough material to make it slightly longer but here's the great part, no one seems to notice or care.  Come and wear bum shorts and walk past Yaba. You go know something.
They are also very stingy with in flight service. On a two hour flight from Houston to Indianapolis, they served me a tiny bag of peanuts with not more than 15 grains inside. 15! When I was a cabin crew, we served Eba in flights. Yes, Eba.

On the flight back to London, I get a bad headache. I've suffered headaches since I was a kid and often carry painkillers around but on this flight, I've got none. What I have in my bag, instead is a bar of chocolate.  So I ask a crew member for paracetamol. He tells me I don't need one, that he's flown many pharmacists and they say paracetamol only ruins the stomach. I'm thinking better a ruined stomach than a ruined head but before I get the chance to say so, he grabs my two hands, starts massaging somewhere between my thumb and my index finger. What therapy is this?

Do I feel better, he asks? I nod slowly. I don't but he had such a kind face and hopeful eyes, I couldn't break his heart so I risked breaking my own head enduring the headache for the remainder of the flight.  And guess what, Michelle Obama decides to follow me to East London on same day. It takes nearly three hours to get to my abode. Sometimes life is hard.

But that's also not why I came here. I wanted to show you what I cooked. Considering that I'm Ibibio and I run a restaurant, you'd think I love to cook. Fire. But I cook, for many reasons. And quite well too, I think maybe those of us from that part of town were all born with wooden spoons or something. 

There's another skill they say we were born with. But that's a story for another day. 

PS. The picture has refused to upload. Sowie.

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