Chef Binta 👩‍🍳🍲

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Shawarma or meat pie? Choose one.

I went to Kano in 2018 for a friend's wedding. A three day trip. I had never been north of Abuja before. Everything I knew about Hausa people came from news headlines and comments on the internet. I arrived with my chest tight and my bag zipped shut at all times. The wedding was beautiful. Loud. Full of colour. But on the second day I got lost. My phone died. The streets all looked the same. Red dust. White walls. Goats everywhere. I stood at a junction feeling useless. An old man selling groundnuts saw me turning in circles. He called out. I pretended not to hear. He called again. I walked toward him slowly. He asked where I was going in broken English. I showed him the wedding venue written on a paper receipt from my pocket. He closed his groundnut tray. Put a cloth over it. Told me to follow him. We walked for twenty minutes. He did not ask my name. Did not ask my tribe. Did not ask why I looked scared. He just walked ahead of me, glancing back every few steps to make sure I was still there. When we reached the venue, he pointed at the gate. Then he turned to leave. I grabbed his arm. Opened my wallet. He shook his head. Said no money. Said guest is guest. Then he walked away. I stood at that gate for a long time. Thinking about every ugly thing I had believed. Every stereotype I had carried in my luggage like an extra shirt I did not need. His name was Malam Shehu. I learned that later when I went back to his junction the next morning. Bought twenty packets of groundnuts. Sat with him for an hour. He told me about his daughter in Abuja. Her wedding next year. He was saving every kobo. I sent him money for that wedding. Not much. Enough for a new tray. Maybe two. He called me on his daughter's wedding day. I could hear drums in the background. He said thank you. Then he said something in Hausa that his neighbour translated for me later. He said a stranger is just a friend you have not sat with yet. I still think about Malam Shehu when I catch myself judging someone I have not met. The groundnut seller who closed his tray for a scared man from the south. That is the Kano I carry now. Not the headlines. Just his kindness and my shame and the love that outlived both. From my DM

Silver or gold??