My Jollof Tales

When I was much younger, I really did not enjoy white rice and stew very much. But that was a staple Sunday lunch say 2 Sundays a month except for when my mum decided to prepare a nice curry sauce or fried or coconut rice. I actually preferred jollof rice and my mum was well aware of this preference which for some funny reason she indulged. So much so that she made my lunch separate from every one else’s.

Now picture this, we had no domestic help (this is another story entirely) and usually lunch was made before we left for church in the morning and so all we had to do was clean the house, shower, have breakfast and get dressed with my dad’s supervision . However, mum dealt her kitchen chores herself on Sundays so when we got back from church, we would set the table and she would dish out lunch and that was it.

However, I used to feel really special on rice and stew days because I always had jollof rice and everyone else had white rice and stew, this included my dad and other siblings. I was about 8 or 9 at the time and it meant the world to me that mummy would make me jollof rice just because I wanted it and make something else for everyone else.

So it was that one Sunday, I came into the kitchen to pick up dishes to set the table and there I saw my mum mixing up rice and stew and serving into a dish for me. Huh? What??? That was when it dawned on me, she just helped mix my lunch ahead everyone else, she was not really serving a different dish.

Then I also thought about how it tasted, it was not really like jollof rice, I also had never seen the jollof pot on those Sundays. I felt so betrayed, the poor woman just took the liberty of freeing herself from that burden of the make believe jollof rice even. It seemed as though she was finally saying ‘well now that you know it’s just mixed up rice and stew, get with the plan girl.’

Honestly probably beyond the first time when she heated up jollof rice from the previous week’s menu, I had been eating same meal as everyone else, just presented differently and I didn’t really mind cos I believed in the WHO of my mum. That meant that whatever she offered was fine. However, when I saw the HOW and realised it wasn’t exactly jollof rice made differently, I became dissatisfied although I was previously content with just having my lunch served specially.

LOL…just the memory of this made me realise how we often perceive God. We get so caught up in HOW He had done things before that the method He used becomes a restriction to our faith and our minds. We hear testimonies or we recall His previous acts in our lives and we can’t see past them. But the same God who parted the Red Sea when Moses stretched his Rod parted the Jordan when the priests stepped in carrying the Ark. The God that asked Moses to strike the rock was the same one that asked him to speak to the rock. IT was about HIM and His capacity as God, never about the HOW. One of the biggest challenges I have had to overcome with trusting God is learning to leave the HOW alone and focus on the WHO. Two words, same letters, different spellings.

We need to focus on the WHO of God. He is faithful and true and will do what He has promised. Beyond that He will do what is His responsibility as a father. However, He may not do it the way we expect. But because of WHO He is, we are assured that our best interests will be served.

Have an amazing week ahead.


Image credit: All Nigerian Recipes

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Eloho Chukwuma

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