Remember I said I never cooked when I was younger? Well part of the reason was because my mother was too scared I was going to hurt myself. My brothers called me "Break Baby" lol. Everything I held in my hand ended up on the ground. The glass plates in the kitchen were scared of me. I broke them for a living. The cups too and the water flasks used for storing hot water. Everything breakable I laid my hands on ended up on the floor. The food too. The lady that cooked for us once asked me to wash the yam she was gonna make for my dad. The bowl fell on the concrete ground outside and the yams ended up on the floor. I didn't want to get in trouble so I picked them all up and proceeded to wash them. I thought I got them all clean. Well not so much cos my dad couldn't eat them. He chewed on stones and had to call the cook to come eat the food she made. She ate the yams in front of my dad and my siblings and I could literally hear her crunching on them stones. She was embarrassed and I felt so guilty and sorry for her. She took the blame that day and that was the last time she ever asked me to help her in the kitchen. I didn't do it on purpose to get out of house chores though. I was just always nervous and too much of a "shaky shaky". lol
My mum once had me cut onions and I nearly chopped my pinky finger off. The blood was every where. Mum was hysterical that day and promised me I will never have to cook a day in my life. lol. I think I was like 11 or so. Another incident I remember was when I tried to fry plantain for myself and my siblings. I fried it and finished o. The yawa was when I had to get the frying pan off the stove. I ended up spilling hot groundnut oil all over my left foot.! It was 8pm at night that day with no Nepa light! My big bro had to carry me in his arms and run to the nearest clinic. After that I was banned from the kitchen as long as i lived in that house.lol. Like really if any family member saw me in there they'd report me to my mum or dad and i'd get in big trouble. Hahaha! #ajebutterthingz
When I moved to the States I stayed away from the kitchen for a while. My sister (i lived with her then) told me that if I want hunger to kill me, I can like to keep staying out of the kitchen. It was a rough start at first. I broke alot of plates and cracked a bunch of spice bottles. I was always cleaning up one mess or the other and my sister never helped me. That evil girl...lol. She was like I should keep breaking and cleaning and that will teach me. It sure did. As I got into it I became better and less nervous and excited. I took my time and always used caution. We also replaced most glass things with plastic. As years went by I got better and better but I still got about 30% of the clumsiness left in me. lol. I still drop stuff and fall and scream whenever I'm startled. Also I'm still trying to explain to my dad that I can't be a surgeon. Can't be in the O.R holding the scalpel and being a shaky mess. lol. But trust Naija parents to call anything you say contradicting them a bunch of bull. I will survive though.
Thanks for visiting my blog and reading :):)
No comments:
Post a Comment