JOIN USTime was when I worked as a teacher in the north-western state of Kaduna – an industrially advanced educational hub in Nigeria. It was 1980s and everything was bright and well with the oil-rich country. We had a delightful time and enjoyed the low cost of living and the other umpteen conveniences and privileges given to us by the Ministry of Education.
I was posted to a prestigious girls’ school in Kaduna city. The school had a strength of 1,000 girls who were distributed over 10 well-maintained houses which formed the main hostel. We were there for a long period of 8 years, during which we learned a lot about the Nigerian culture and traditions. The former British colony enjoyed the sincere encouragement given to it in the fields of education and health. Innumerable schools and hospitals had been built with the aim of developing the country.
Different Nigerian states had different cultures and it was indeed tough to unite them completely. Kaduna had a big chunk of the traditional Hausa people who were peace-loving and religious. The missionary institutions in various parts of Nigeria in the form of schools and hospitals offered education and relief from the killer disease, malaria. The students, and the local people in general, had great respect and love for the Indian teachers which made our life amid them really enjoyable.
It was a fine Saturday morning, and I was relaxing with my family in our quarters when Dr Reji, one of our close friends, walked in with his usual sweet smile. He asked me whether I was game for a trip to Kano, a three-hour journey from Kaduna. I knew that I would enjoy every minute of the trip as Dr Reji was a fun-loving guy.
We started our Kano trip around 10 am and were supposed to have our lunch in one of the way side restaurants. Around 12 pm, we came across a beautifully decorated restaurant and decided to have our lunch there. As we entered, our eyes were drawn towards a big black menu board which contained the names of all the delicacies they had. We were, however, attracted towards one item displayed because of its special name.
It was called “Spare Parts Curry.” Having decided to go with it, we were placing the order for rice and spare parts curry when the manager of the restaurant came to us and asked if we had tasted the dish before. We replied in the negative. He ordered the waiters to bring one plate of the so-called Spare Parts Curry.
Lo, it was nothing but the waste parts of chicken – the bony legs, nails, head et al! The manager informed us that it was very tasty and urged us to try it. As opposed to my taste, my friend Dr Reji ordered one more plate of the curry and told me that he would pack another for his wife. I, for one, ate rice with a delicious fish curry (which tasted like the Kerala pearl fish curry). It was an unforgettable Nigerian lunch, indeed, the memory of which I cherish till today!