These days, I can’t eat yam pottage even if they pay me to eat it, but I loved the meal as a child. Apparently, I’m not the only one who liked eating certain meals as a child but ended up disliking them as an adult. We’re many, so here’s what some of us have to say.
“I almost died from stealing meat”
— Isaiah, 26
I hated the fact that my father used to get three pieces of meat while the children got only one. One day during the summer holiday, my mum cooked soup for dinner. After she had served everyone, she went outside to pack the clothes from the line. I stood up from the dining table and told my dad I was going to get water. The truth is, I was going to steal extra meat from the pot. What I didn’t know was that the soup was still very hot. At 10 years old, it was a struggle to reach into the pot and so it fell on me —a full hot pot of ogbono soup fell on top of my body. My mother beat the hell out of me for wasting the food she just cooked. The incident scarred me so much, so I’ve not eaten meat since then.
“I can never drink tea again”
— Tife, 23
I used to like tea as a child. Now tea, coffee, hot chocolate and all their cousins disgust me. I now hate tea because I once left my cup of tea under the fan and it formed this really thick upper layer which was gross. I’ve not had tea in like ten years and I don’t intend to, ever again.
“The way my brother ate peanut butter disgusted me”
— Oretha, 25
I used to like peanut butter a lot when I was younger. I started hating it at 13 because I couldn’t stand the way my brother used to eat it. Every opportunity he got, he was eating peanut butter. He had it with bread, crackers, popcorn etc. It was too much abeg. He made eating peanut butter disgusting. How do you eat peanut butter and garri? Is that normal human being behaviour?
“I think I overdid it with chocolate”
— Ifoghale, 22
My dad came home from this long trip to Europe with a lot of chocolate. For months, I was eating chocolates that never seemed to end. I think I overdid it. Now I see chocolate and I’m like, “Meh. Not interested.”
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“I prefer my garri without sugar now”
— Asa’ah, 32
I used to like garri with sugar as a child. Now if there’s sugar in garri, I won’t touch it with a 10-feet pole. Sugar in garri just doesn’t sit well with my stomach and taste buds anymore, and I don’t know why.
“Picking fish bones pisses me off”
— Pharoah, 28
As a child, you could use boiled fish to kidnap me. Now, anywhere I see it, I run away. The reason I no longer like it may be petty, but fish has so many tiny bones and having to pick them off pisses me off. I cannot suffer to make money and still suffer to eat my food just because I’m picking bones out. I already pick out the onions in food, I can’t give myself more work with fish.
“Coconut makes me sick”-
— Dammy, 25
I hate everything made with coconut, except coconut rice, for some reason. One day in secondary school, I ate so much coconut candy I got nauseous. Since then, I cancelled coconut for life.
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“I ate pounded yam throughout my first year in Uni”
— Mobolaji, 24
Not that I liked pounded yam growing up, but it was something I could eat. Going to uni in Èkìtì changed everything. I ate it every other day in my first year, and by my second year, I stopped eating it entirely.
“Beans almost made me take a shit in my pants”
— Francis, 27
I liked eating beans until the day I was almost disgraced in school. They served beans during lunch and, I don’t know how they cooked it but it gave me the worst running stomach. It happened during extra-curricular while I was playing football. It hit me quick, the poo almost dropped in my boxers while I was running. That was the last time I went anywhere near beans.
“My mother used Jollof rice to apologise after beating me”
— Mary*, 30
I hate jollof rice now because as a child, my mother would beat me when I misbehaved, and then use Jollof rice to apologise. She’d call me downstairs and put a plate of jollof rice and meat in front of me and walk away. That was her apology. Sometimes she cooked the food, sometimes she bought it. Jollof rice gives me PTSD.
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