You wont believe it but at one point in my life I just stopped eating Jollof rice. I grew sick of it. Sick of eating it every time I attended a wedding, a christening, a 7 day and sick of eating it on Sunday or at Christmas, Boxing day, Easter, Easter Monday and the list goes on. As for the separate gravy that came with it...well, where do I start? I'm sorry but where do people get off with meat cubes and onions sitting at the bottom of the serving dish with oil floating around on top? It was like watching goldfish rise to the top of stagnant pond water when I put the spoon in to serve.
Let's get one thing straight - when we think of our heritage, history, tribe or language and link it to our childhood, one of the first things that people talk about is food. Where did we smell this food? I guarantee you it was from the top or bottom of the stairs, at the front door or on the (skirt, trousers or wrapper) of the person that was cooking notably your mother or grandmother. Am I right? The smell that indicated lunch or dinner time, tearing you away from play, homework or tv.