When in Lagos, Eat by the Roadside

by Ano Shonhiwa (Namibia)

I didn't expect to find Nigeria

The best part of travelling is always the food. From swanky fine dining establishments to hole-in-the-wall places, I always ensure to try as much local food as I can in every city I find myself in. Lagos was no different. While Nigeria is not known for its food, it has a diverse culinary culture that prizes local ingredients and spices to create amazing dishes like jollof rice and pepper soup. I had travelled to Lagos with Abi, a friend stationed in Sierra Leone, to visit another mutual friend. We had eaten a lot throughout the trip – sampling everything from suya (a spicy meat kebab) made in the style of haute cuisine to great goat meat pepper soup from a mom-and-pop restaurant around the corner from our friend’s flat. I had even tried puff-puff (fried balls of dough) from a stall at Balogun Market, Lagos’ largest open-air market. Heaven. Our driver and guide in the city, Garba, was incredibly knowledgeable about places to eat and had made brilliant recommendations during our stay. All the eating I had done, however, had not prepared me for what was to happen on day three of this trip to Nigeria’s largest city. After a trip to a museum in Marina, the city’s centre back when Lagos was Nigeria’s federal capital, Abi started to enquire about Garba’s background. We learnt that he was originally from northern Nigeria but had come to Lagos, as many Nigerians do, in search of economic opportunity. Invariably, the conversation turned to food. His favourites were what he grew up with – the cuisine of the Hausa people. Unfortunately for him, he found good Hausa cuisine hard to find in the areas he worked in, so he had grown to like local fare, dominated by the culture of the Yoruba people who are indigenous to the area were Lagos is located. “There’s a place on the side of the road that makes really good stews. It’s where I like to have lunch.” Garba had let slip a secret spot! “Please take us there,” Abi begged after hearing this. Garba was apprehensive. My guess was perhaps he was too embarrassed to take his charges to eat at a place on the side of a road. He tried to deflect, name dropping places we had either heard of or that seemed to be on the beaten path. “No, we don’t mind. We are super interested to see where you eat. Food is food,” I said, trying to assure him that we weren’t prissy travellers. After some more prodding from me and Abi, Garba finally relented, driving us to a street-side in Ikoyi, the district we were living in. The lady who ran the stall was heavyset and beautiful. She wore a brightly coloured dress made of what looked like Ankara fabric. She asked Garba who we were, and he explained. Upon hearing that two foreigners had graced her stall, she beamed and asked us what we wanted to try. Her stall had three different stews (a choice between goat, fish or beef), three types of fufu (a stiff porridge made from pounded starchy crops) and a vegetable dish. Never in my life had I encountered a roadside vendor with this much variety. Abi and I decided to sample everything, washing it down with Guinness – yes, you can buy beer on the roadside in Nigeria. The food was delicious and was some of the best food I had had during the trip. Our hostess looked at us nervously, wondering whether we liked her cooking. I’m not sure how she could have misinterpreted us wolfing down her food. It was amazing. She did not need to ask before we both gave her our praises. Abi and I immediately promised to return for lunch the following day. Arriving on day four of our trip, we were greeted by new dishes. My favourite was afang soup, a spicy seafood stew made with periwinkle. Abi opted for edo soup, a leaf-based stew lauded for its health benefits. I think Garba was surprised that Abi and I had so earnestly enjoyed the food at his favourite spot. To me, it was probably the highlight of my time in Lagos.