bringing dinner back

“I miss Nigeria at Christmas. Everything closes down and you go into the villages, where there is nothing to do but visit.” — Peter Ketebu

Clyde has worked with Melanie Ketebu at various jobs for years. I’ve met her husband, Peter, a few times. We’ve eaten at their restaurant, the Crazy Catfish in Garland, and I’ve heard a million stories about their 10-year-old daughter. When I first came up with the idea of doing this blog and having a monthly meal with people from Africa, Clyde immediately said: “Can we invite Melanie and Peter over for dinner?”

Clearly, my dinner party invitations had been lacking over the years. I’ll admit I’m not great at expanding our social circle. Put me in the right situation — new city, new school, new church — I’ll make friends. But once I’m settled in and have my fair share, I’m done. I stop looking for new people to bring into the fold. And that’s how cool people like Melanie and Peter slip through the cracks.

Until, of course, I start a blog project that requires me to step out of my social comfort zone at least once a month.

And so on a very chilly Saturday evening in January, the Ketebu family joined our family (minus Noah, who was celebrating his best friend’s birthday). I’m sure they think my obsession with Africa is a bit odd. But they didn’t show it. Peter, it seemed, enjoyed talking about his home country as much as I enjoyed hearing about it. The youngest of nine kids, he came to the United States in 1981 to go to college here in Dallas. About the time he thought he would return, things got a little dicey back home, and his mom said he should stay. He did, fell in love, and has been here ever since.

Chin-Chin

Peter brought some traditional Nigerian dishes to share. Chin-chin may be our new favorite snack food (tiny bites of a fried, cookie-dough like mixture of eggs and flour). Nigerians snack on it before a meal or celebration. So do Texans once introduced to it. I’d heard that if Nigeria has a national food, it is simply spicy. And the suya they brought proved my research right. Suya is beef seasoned with a dry rub. Sawyer loved it. He drank lots of water with it, but you put meat on a stick, he’s there.

Suya

The rest of our meal had no African influence whatsoever. I made a rib meat sauce (saute an onion and some garlic in olive oil, brown one pound of country-style pork ribs; remove the ribs, add two 32-ounce cans of diced tomatoes, put the ribs back and cook for about 1 1/2 hours or until they are falling off the bone; take the meat off the bone and break into small pieces, then add back to the red sauce) served over penne pasta, salad, and ciabatta bread.

Over dinner and a couple bottles of wine, Peter talked about life in America for a Nigerian (no, we didn’t bring up the underwear bomber). I’m sure it is true of most communities of immigrants, but what fascinated me was how Peter and his Nigerian friends have managed to bring a bit of their country to their new home. There are Nigerian grocery and produce stores right here in the Dallas area (who knew?). When somebody gets married here, as in Nigeria, the guests “spray” the couple with money as they dance. The dance floor will be filled with bills, and someone heads up a table to organize all the cash. Christmas gifts? Cash. Birthday? Cash. When somebody dies in Nigeria, the local community also gives money to help the family. In recent years, Nigerians here have taken on that tradition when a parent, sibling, or child dies, especially helpful when you must fly back to Nigeria for a funeral, as Peter did when his mother died five years ago. Another interesting Nigerian tradition: when somebody dies, it can take months — maybe a year if they’re well-known — to have the funeral. They want to be sure everyone who wants to come, gets to come.

Nigeria, and the whole of Africa it seems, doesn’t know what it means to rush. I love that. Peter said he most misses Nigeria at Christmas. While we’re being bombarded with sales and must-haves and must-gets, running ourselves ragged and broke, Nigerians pick up and leave. Everything shuts down for about a month, starting a week or two before Christmas. Can you imagine? People leave the cities and go to the villages, doing nothing but catching up with family and friends. I long for a stretch of time like that, especially around the holidays. It will never happen here; maybe that’s part of the reason I’m so drawn there.

Peter said he should cook for us one of these days. Some traditional meals he grew up on include egusi soup (melon seed soup), which is served with FuFu (a porridge-like dish made with cassava); okro (okra) soup, also served with FuFu; and jollof rice (a traditional rice dish served with fried plantain).

I’ll bet in Nigeria, friends and dinner invitations don’t slip through the cracks. That’s a little part of Nigeria I’d like to bring back to America — or, at the very least, to my dining room.