A two-minute lesson on appreciating the simple things of life.
2017, National Service, to escape the boredom of staying alone and to protect my sanity, I like to visit a jovial and welcoming priest in another village from my PPA in Katsina state.
His name, Father Albert. Father Man of God as he liked to be hailed.
Father MOG is loud, warm, and very lively. He takes his vacations abroad, cycles around the village, and makes the best, homecooked meal I know on earth.
He has this little garden of vegetables behind the vicarage. And from there, he collects vegetables to make a unique recipe of fried egg that goes well with pasta or yam.
Together we feast on the tithes and offerings of the faithful (Catholicism allows this). And over the meal, MOG will discuss matters ranging from politics to the latest news, to how he’s suffering compared to other priests in cities.
I just nod and smile. As I survey the table seeing the huge watermelons a villager gave him neatly diced in a transparent dish, the huge slices of yam shining white and hot (covered in a red and white warmer), the famous fried egg recipe in another dish, the teacups with Lipton or coffee teabags resting conveniently, and father MOG’s forehead and neck sweating as he devoured the meal, I couldn’t agree more.
“Indeed, you are sir.” I’d say.
From where we sat, I could hear the next victim — an unfortunate cock brought by a villager airing its last crow in the kitchen.
Those were the best days. And I’ve been trying to recreate Father MOG’s experience ever since.
You see, last weekend I was at Eko Hotel — one of the most prestigious hotels in Lagos state. I had a ticket for an all-you-can-eat buffet, saw the fried eggs, and remembered Father Albert. But the taste was miles apart. I asked my friend to rank the meal and he said a 4 or 5 over 10.
Just glitz and glam and multiple options of the same thing to fill the stomach. And people will see the pictures and think enjoyment.
Illusions.
I think what makes a meal great is the company. And the stark simplicity of the meal. This is what many people enjoy daily and is incomparable to some rich bureaucrat having multiple filling options in a hotel. He eats his bit and pushes the rest aside.
The simplest things in life hold far better meaning and significance. At least for me.
It’s why I do what I do: to prepare decent home-cooked meals and treat myself like a prince like Father Albert.
