Of all the things I miss in my little pandemic-ridden, third-world existence, Eating out is surprisingly at the top of the list.
I say surprising, because I am not much of a foodie. In fact food is most likely the thing I will forget to add to my list when trying to put together a daily to-do list.
So how on earth have I come to miss eating out, you ask?
The only acceptable (let’s forget reasonable) explanation is what psychologists call the ‘victim syndrome,’ or something like that. The truth is I am not too sure what it’s called.
It’s a kind of situation where you come to miss the thing that you hated by some psycho bending of the mind explanation that half the population doesn’t seem to get.
Anyway, maybe that’s it. Because what else can it be?
I miss the alien smell of another person’s food.
The experience of sitting at a table where you don’t have a clue about the hygiene standard of its former occupant; the thrill of swallowing while being gawked at by randy strangers. The joy of haggling over the thickness of the goat meat that Mama Bolade lodged into your Ewedu-Gbegiri combo.
I miss all that.
‘Eating in’ is totally boring and because by some selfish inclination, you can’t thrash your own cooking regardless of how bad it is, you are left with no choice but to stay put indoors.
I know that a few people will be shocked about the fact that I am yet to eat out, when half of the residents of Lagos have abandoned all attempts at self preservation and are wrangled together like porridge yam and oil.
But that’s just me. I like to see things through to the end. And with the talk of a second wave of the corona virus in play soon, how on earth is anyone willing to gather together in a possibly virus-laden zone?
The answer would be something about craving human company and some other emotionally- viable explanation, but in my opinion, why take unnecessary risks.
So, I have resorted to my new-found pastime of actively gawking at food tutorial videos on YouTube and trying to imagine that I am enjoying the culinary wonder before me in a typical Lagos restaurant.
This article was written by Henri ‘Yire; connect on Instagram with him here