My jollof rice experience was not any typical event, and I’m not just saying that to add an air of curiosity to my writing. However, I do admit to being responsible for it on some levels.

You see, to add a bit of background, I grew up eating rice. It is a staple food for people around the world—particularly in Asia, Latin America, and parts of Africa—and as a Nigerian living in my country, there was no way I couldn’t eat it, or at least see it on the many occasions or prepared meals at home that I was privy to. And there lay the root of my problem: I was tired of it.

I had been eating it every single day. Not because I couldn’t afford anything better, but because, frankly speaking, there wasn’t anything better. In most restaurants that have rice on their menu, it is usually the most palatable of all their dishes. When it came to meals, I preferred to stay in my comfort zone. The numerous bitter/rotten foods from popular establishments my tongue has borne witness to have done nothing but reaffirm my choice.

So, it was, on a fateful day, that my body finally decided enough was enough when it came to rice. And just as God may have it, I was eating the jollof variant.

To cut a long story short, I regurgitated the processed cereal grains. As disgusting as that must be, on that day and in your mind at the moment, it was made worse by the fact that my mini-episode was in full view of everyone. And I do mean everyone. It was, after all, a party. A child’s birthday party, to be exact. I doubt I would be able to forget the aftermath; many, if not all, of the children present cried at the nauseating sight. Because of me, they lost whatever food-related innocence they might have had. Their screams still haunt me to this day.

To conclude this piece of writing, I’m happy to note that I was not punished for my actions, though I wasn’t able to avoid the disgruntled glares of the shocked parents and guardians. Apart from the incident, it was still an enjoyable party, made more fun because they mistook my actions as a result of allergies. For the rest of the parties, I was given ice cream as a stomach discomfort deterrent.

Yum!