Mar 9th, 2016, 03:39 PM

African Kitchen: Nigeria in Paris

By Khadija Sanusi
Image Credit: African Kitchen
African Kitchen serves affordable food and a Nigerian ambiance

There is something warm about being around your people, as Nigerians say, especially in a foreign city, country, or even continent.

That's what I was thinking wheb I stepped into the African Kitchen, a Nigerian restaurant in Paris. I had found it online and once took my friends there in October to celebrate our independence day. Since then, I have become comfortable with the restaurant. It has become the answer to homesickness. Perhaps it's the familiarity of the Pidgin English the owners use to communicate amongst themselves and with the Nigerian customers who come in groups and use different Nigerian languages. Or perhaps it's the menu, the familiarity of traditional dishes – Okro, Banga, Egusi and Ogbono soups – that seem just too odd to be eaten in Paris. For one, the soups require starch (such as Eba, pounded Yam and/or Amala); and secondly, eating them with cutlery looks so strange and unfamiliar, yet the thought of eating with bare fingers in a city known for its elegance is equally strange.

“Are you Rachel’s friend?” said an Asian girl sitting alone at a table for six. I said yes, Rachel and I had attended the same school back in South Africa. I invited her to join me and some AUP friends of mine. Moments later, we went through the menu. I tried to explain each dish and, when unable to find the right descriptions, we turned to Google. “Pounded yam,” I learned, “is like marched potatoes. The yam is cut in relatively small pieces, cooked too softly, then pounded and usually put into modules. Like the name suggests.” We went through the soups and, for lack of better terms, I described Okro and Ogbono soups as “drawy”.

Bobo, another friend, was curious enough to try one of “drawy” soups. Not knowing what to expect, he was dazed when the soup dragged from his fork and I captured his reaction in a worthy Snapchat-length video. Rachel tutored him on how to eat it before settling for her own Eba and Egusi soup, explaining how she had missed home food.

 
Two other non-Nigerians who ate some of the most traditional foods were Alexia and Amelia from AUP. At first, Amelia ordered rice with Egusi soup, a combination that is just too bizarre and when she exchanged rice with pounded yam, the restaurant gave her both options, rice being a complimentary side dish. Alexia ordered what Amelia was having, stating that it “reminds me of home food. We have something similar back in Venezuela.” The rest of us, except for Rachel who ordered Amala, selected Jollof rice with side chicken. I added plantain to go with mine.
 
About an hour of talking mostly about the food and eating from each other’s plates, a group of Nigerians came in, moving from French to Pidgin English, normal English and Yoruba. Rachel was trying to explain to our foreign friends the concept of Pidgin English, the way you play around with the English language and it is comprehendible in an absurd manner. For me, the familiarity of it reminded me of Balogun market in Lagos – the way the women will negotiate in pidgin, bidding for the lowest price. I, too, have negotiated there on more than one occasion. I understand it, but pidgin does not roll out of my mouth effortlessly. Perhaps that was why one of the men was shocked that I was Nigerian. “You don’t sound it,” he said.
 
I will always go back to African Kitchen because it serves affordable food that can simultaneously fill you up with memories of Nigeria and also take away from you the familiar feeling of homesickness. The menu also has other cuisines from the rest of West Africa, and is a great place to learn of a culture, a language and a people in Paris.

 

African Kitchen
92 rue Saint-Maur, 75011
Open 12 pm till midnight
Tel: 09 50 41 22 17

 

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Nigeria
paris
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