Watching people troop with the devotion of pilgrims into the venue of Hilda Baci’s jollof rice cooking event is a justification for the adoption of rice as Nigeria’s official currency. The naira has failed us. How many of us check the exchange rate before leaving home? But every living soul knows the price of a bag of rice, even those who have no business dreaming of a bag of rice. Growing up, we did not buy rice in bags unless we wan do party.
The crowd at the sumptuous-looking Ms Baci’s event confirmed that rice is no longer food but faith. Among them were women clutching infants and rushing in as though the rice being cooked was a cure for grave pediatric conditions.
I could not believe any mother would carry an infant into such a suffocating crowd, especially after what happened at that charity function fronted by the Ooni’s ex-wife. Equally astonishing was the sight of full-grown men surging forward to watch steam rise like incense from the giant pot. Odiegwu.
For every wound, the prescription remains the same: rice.
Who knew rice cooking could become a spectator sport capable of attracting a religious crusade-level crowd? Hilda’s star power, built on 34-24-36 and a face the cameras love, must have something to do with persuading people to abandon their homes just to have their nostrils pleasured by the aroma of jollof. Aromastylee.
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We need a Ministry of Rice with Ms Baci as minister. Rice has become our most reliable economic indicator, our measure of national mood, our compass for hope and despair. Oil may fuel the treasury but rice fuels the soul.
Politicians understand this theology. In times of celebration they give rice. In times of tragedy they give rice. In times of elections they return with rice again. Minimum wage is measured against the price of rice. The cost of an “international” passport, though it is only Nigeria that insists on calling its passport international, is compared to the price of rice.
ASUU is likely to start moaning that the salaries of its members cannot cover more than two bags of rice. Bride price negotiations will soon be whispered in rice equivalents. Rice will soon be our human development index. For every wound, the prescription remains the same: rice.
Can we at least make it amala and gbegiri or tuwo masara with miya taushe?
