Your food smells

I never knew my food smells until I moved to Canada, how could I know it smells bad when the combination of those ingredients makes the tastiest soups.

I was never self conscious or ashamed of my ingredients, these were things I buy proudly in the local market and would bring with me anywhere, everyone knew the smell some people even salivate to the fresh ingredients just thinking how good the end product would be. I was so proud of my crayfish and I took pride in putting them in anything they probably had no business in. I sometimes put it in noodles when i craved a different taste from my noodles, I put it in pasta which my cousin swore was a crime, I some days when I make egg sauce I would casually slip it in there. My opkoro was a star, you could taste the difference when it’s missing in a dish. Dawadawa and Oziza never irritated me, just its very smell was like dopamine. My dried fish doubled as both a snack and luxury to my soup making it rich in every possible way. I am so proud of every meal and taste my ingredients made.

 

Now, it’s “I never knew your ingredients smell/ this bad”, you should put your ingredients in a pastic container after already putting it in three ziplock bags. You can’t cook that here because we have to open the windows and it’s winter so wait till summer. Pouring mountains of air fresheners to the room I kept my small ingredients from home and shutting the door made me feel like shit. I cried deep down. I was so excited to cook my egusi for Christmas. My sister spent so much time getting those ingredients from the market. It’s cold 70% of the time in Canada so you’re basically telling me I can only eat my culture when I tell you first in the 30% of the time. I never complain about someone cultural food if they give me heads up first. Taking those ingredients from that room and putting it in my room I can see the relief in their face that my ingredients wouldn’t contaminate their or stink in their space. Now I wake up the smell of my dried fish and crayfish in my room and I will continue to for the next six months of my Leese all because I trusted someone who said the smell of my food wasn’t an issue when I brought it up before moving in and now in repulsed by just the ingredients and wouldn’t let me make a dish. Sent me a text before you don’t want to deal with the discomfort or awkwardness of saying it to my face. I never replied to that message in text but I did face to face like you should have to me before I left the house that morning. I’m not scared of the uncomfortable talk. Now those ingredients that took so much time and stress getting here would gradually go bad in my room as I wake up to the smell of home. But you love the smell of ketchup and white rice. This is racism