CHAPATIS.

Is the way to a man’s heart through the stomach?

I grew up being told this left and right. My mother would pinch me hard when I over-salted the soup for dinner. She would spank my head when the rice overcooked, and I dreaded the days she probed me to prepare ‘ugali’ which is an African dish.

Heck! Ugali was not stress-free to make. I would gawk at the boiling water and tears would well up my eyes at the thoughts of my mom’s hands on me. The ‘mwiko’ was too gigantic for my hands, and every time I made a spin with it in the ‘sufuria’ I felt excruciating pain in my palms. Then I would hear my mum’s sharp voice from outside asking me to hurry up before she came in. Her coming in meant another merciless beating. But to say my mother was good at her cooking will be an understatement. She was and still is the best cook I know of. I don’t think I need the beatings in the first place because the skills were innate.

I was born with them. She taught me a few secrets but as I grew up I was able to comfortably measure salt using my eyes and a silent prayer for the ancestors. A good cook is sure with her measurements, she doesn’t need a spoon to counter-check the amount of salt to add to her cooking.

In the African culture, you are not a woman unless you can cook. I don’t mean to just cook anything. You become whole when you can get into the kitchen and prepare the common dishes. African delicacies in better words, traditional foods. You earn yourself bonus points when getting a husband.

Although cooking does not get you a man, it is one of the virtues men surreptitiously look for in their partner. They will never tell you about it. They will not ask you to be their chef, they will sit, watch, and learn bestowing you marks. You don’t have to be an expert in this. Your cooking doesn’t have to be sublime all the time but isn’t it an amazing sight to sit across the table and watch your man, your kids too enjoying a homemade cooked meal, one that you prepared wholeheartedly?

I am glad I got beaten to do better in the kitchen but one skill that was not easy to learn was preparing soft ‘chapatis’

Mother tried, but me? I gave up with all the rolling of dough in an effort to produce round-shaped chapatis. An hour of trying to prepare these chapatis left me covered in flour and sore arms. The process was tiring and one fine morning after a lot of attempts, I threw my hands in the air. I had had enough and I declared I was done trying. Even so, my all-time favorite dish is chapati.

Here’s a tribute to chapatis.

If you had ears, you would have listened to the sweet words I have to say. Of how you make my mouth water just by seeing you.

If you had eyes you would have seen how my face lights up at the mere mention of you.

If you had a heart you would have felt mine for it is you that makes me breathe. It is you that gives me the energy to function on any day.

It is you that most people depend on to make a festival complete. It is you that makes my guests most welcome at my humble abode. It is you that gets most chefs' contracts to work for bigger hotels.

It is you that makes most of us happy, and it is you that most of us find it difficult to comfortably prepare.

Oh, chapatis the way I love you.