Mama Gee’s Spot
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The rich aroma of simmering spices and the tantalizing sizzle of grilled meat fill the air as I step into Mama Gee’s pepper soup joint around past seven. This eatery is more than a haven for those seeking a fiery and flavorsome culinary experience, it holds more than just the flavors of my childhood—it carries the weight of mummy’s journey, the story of a resilient woman who fled war-torn Liberia and found herself in a strange land, seeking solace and a fresh start.
A little bit on Mama Gee’s pepper soup joint background. Mummy, a.k.a. Mama Gee, merged Liberian and Nigerian cooking secrets and it paid off. Mama Gee’s Joint has gained a reputation throughout Lagos. People from as far as Epe and Ibadan, stop by to have a taste of Mama Gee’s pepper soup. We also do international deliveries with our pepper soup mix package. That’s how big Mama Gee has grown.
Taking in the familiar sights and sounds of Mama Gee’s staff frying meat, turning simmering pepper sauces, removing meat pies and other pastries from ovens, memories flood my mind. I have a love-hate relationship with this place. It’s a place of pride and frustration.
In the early days, Mama Gee worked vigorously in Badagry. She labored under the watchful eye of a road-side restaurateur, a harsh and unyielding figure who mistreated her employees. Amidst the struggle, fate intervened and led Daddy, a prosperous investment banker back then, to be intrigued by the area.
Their paths crossed, two souls from different worlds converging in an unexpected encounter. It’s a story I’ve been told more times than I can count. Daddy, with his charm and affluence, recognized the injustice Mama Gee and her fellow workers endured. His empathy and desire for Mama Gee prompted him to intervene, using his influence to move her to Lagos, and placing her in a restaurant with better treatment for hardworking individuals.
Although he was a decade older than her, love blossomed between them, transcending boundaries and cultural differences. Mama Gee’s strength and resilience, honed through her journey from Liberia, captivated Daddy’s heart. They forged a bond, one that would weather the storms of life—both literal and metaphorical.
Growing up, the pepper soup joint was an integral part of our lives. Mama Gee poured her heart and soul into the place, infusing every dish with her passion for cooking. The joint became a hub of community, drawing in customers from all walks of life. She got brand deals from FMCGs.
I respect Mama Gee’s commitment to building up.
However, despite my admiration for Mama Gee’s dedication and the joy she brings to others with her cooking, there are times when the weight of its impact on our lives strains us. The long hours she spends managing the joint means less time spent with us, her family. Birthdays, holidays, and special occasions were frequently overshadowed by the demands of the business causing me to long for more moments of connection and togetherness.
As time passed, Daddy’s financial fortunes shifted. The tides of the economy swept away some of his wealth, leaving us in a different financial landscape. He lectures part-time at Lagos State University. Through it all, Daddy’s strength lay not in his material wealth but in the wisdom and fortitude that guided his decisions. He made choices that ensured our family’s stability and security, prioritizing our well-being more than anything else. He may not be as wealthy as he once was, but his choices have allowed our family to weather storms and find stability. Mama Gee, with her indomitable spirit, has been the rock that supports us, shouldering the responsibility of providing for our needs since daddy took up the lecturing role.
At times, I resent the joint, feeling it had robbed me of my mother. The late nights spent helping, washing dishes, or serving customers took their toll. I grew tired of the constant smell of spices clinging to my clothes and the persistent heat of the kitchen seeping into my pores.
Yet, despite my frustrations, there was an undeniable sense of pride in Mama Gee’s pepper soup joint being universally loved. Customers rave about the intense flavors and the warmth that emanates from each bowl. They flock to the joint, especially in the evenings, seeking comfort in the steaming bowls of broth and the friendly atmosphere.
Watching Mama Gee masterfully tending to customers in her element, reminds me of all this and more. Her determination is fueled by her love for cooking and sharing her heritage through the flavors she creates. She pours her heart into each dish and recipe, infusing it with the essence of her homeland and the love she held for her newfound home.
I feel overwhelmed by a deep sense of gratitude as the laughter of customers fills the air. Gratitude for my parents’ unlikely love story, for the sacrifices they made, and for the lessons they taught me about resilience, determination, and the true meaning of success.
I’m planning to study in the United States. My conversation with Special from months ago tease the edges of my awareness. What would it be like to start afresh in a different country? Am I open to travelling to a different country, when all I know is right here?
What am I thinking? Once he is done with his program, he would return to the country. I don’t think I want to do that—travel to an entirely different continent just to be in the same space with a man.
Why is this thought occupying my mind when Special is not mine? Something is wrong with me!
I take a seat at a table, enjoying my surroundings. “Mama Gee!” I call out, waving to get her attention amidst the lively atmosphere.
When she spots me, she rushes over, her face lighting up with a wide smile. “Fiyinfoluwa, my darling!” she exclaims, pulling me into a warm embrace. “You’re finally here! I was worrying you’d forget about the joint.”
There we go, totally forgetting I just returned from school. But being the understanding daughter I am, I chuckle, following up with a familiar banter to lighten the mood. “Forget Mama Gee’s joint? Impossible! You know your food is the reason I can’t stay away for too long.”
She happily swats my arm. “I hear you. Yet we have to beg you to return home. You should be more like G-Ben.”
“You know G-Ben used to return home every other week because of his business.”
She yinmu’s. “At least he finds his way home every time. You make me scared.”
Folding my arms, I smile. “Mama Gee… all this talk is making me hungry.”
She scoffs, a twinkle in her eyes. “I knew you didn’t come to see me.”
“Ah...” I place a hand on my chest, feigning pain.
“My dear, you better sit down and try my latest recipe before you wither away from starvation.”
I oblige, settling into my seat with a grin, mumbling, “You always know how to make me feel wanted.”
She winks.
Uh-oh. I think she heard me.
She motions for a server to bring us a steaming bowl of her signature seafood pepper soup, the rings on her fingers twinkling. The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. I got my fashion sense from her.
As I inhale the tantalizing scent, a rush of nostalgia clouds my senses. “Remember when I was a kid, and you used to sneak extra spices into my soup, thinking I couldn’t handle the heat?” I tease, recalling the times I sipped soup with watery eyes and a flushed face.
She laughs heartily, the sound echoing through the bustling eatery. “Oh, how could I forget? You were always the adventurous one, trying to prove yourself so you can help with my recipes. I thought I had a little pepper superhero on my hands!”
We share a moment of lighthearted laughter, the memory of those times causing a fuzzy, warm feeling in my chest. As the first spoonful of broth, shrimp, periwinkle, and what nots touches my lips, familiar spicy flavors dance on my taste buds.
Swallowing, I blow out the heat of the spice, widening my eyes in the act. You would think I’ll be used to Mama Gee’s spicy soups. “This is good…” I begin, my body getting warm from the spice and heat.
She nods, an encouraging grin on her face. The wrinkles around her eyes are prominent. Where did time go?
“Fantastic.” I sigh, taking time to absorb the moment and appreciate her. “Thank you for everything you’ve done.”
She stares at me askance. “I hope all is well?”
“Mama Gee…” I take a deep breath, slightly moving my bowl of soup forward, gathering my courage to broach a sensitive topic with her.
“What is it?”
“I’m not happy you aren’t home, relaxing.”
She scoffs, aware of where the conversation is headed.
“I’ve been thinking,” I begin cautiously. “You’ve been running this place for so many years, and I worry about you. You’ve worked tirelessly to build this business, and I believe it’s time for you to retire and take a break.”
Her arms snakes forward, holding mine casually. “Ah… Fiyinfoluwa.” She opens her mouth to speak, then pauses as if to collect her thoughts before continuing. “You’ve always been my greatest supporter.” She takes a moment to absorb my suggestion. “Retire?” She leans forward, fondly placing a hand on my chin, her gaze holding mine. “Fiyinfoluwa dear, I appreciate your concern. But this place is my passion. My legacy. My contribution to our family. It is me.”
I’ve always known she doesn’t see this joint as a business—she sees it as an extension of her identity. For one, I grew up knowing her as Mama Gee by all and sundry, and so I called her Mama Gee, because mummy is Mama Gee.
“Really...” I squeeze her hands reassuringly. “I admire your dedication. But you’ve worked so hard, and I want you to enjoy the fruits of your labor. You deserve some rest, to explore new hobbies, and to spend more time with the family.”
She murmurs a chuckle. “You are the fruit of my labor. I’m spending time with you, my family.”
I sigh loudly. She wants to be difficult.
“Fiyin, seeing you grow up into such a remarkable young woman makes it all worthwhile.”
“Mam—”
“Shh… my dear.” Her eyes hold mine with so much understanding. The things those eyes have seen. My God. “I understand you. One thing you need to know is that everything I do, I do for you. My children.”
“I know mummy, I know…”
“Don’t worry,” she tightens her hold, “When it’s time, I’ll pass this down to you.”
Fears I can’t describe bubble to the surface. My bladder loosens, threatening to spill pee, and I constrict my vagina to tighten it. I pull my hands back, rejecting her touch. “But Mama Gee, I’m studying computer science. I have dreams and aspirations beyond the joint. I want to pursue a career in my field, to make a difference in the world. I can’t be—be—be tied down by this.”
She widens her eyes then darkens them, while furrowing her brows. It’s as though she’s asking, How could you think such! “This? Hmm. This place has sustained us. Provided for us. Haba Fiyin. Haba.” She shakes her head. “I had hoped that after your schooling, we would transition and you would take over, continuing the legacy. Shebi you want me to retire.”
“Yes, I want you to retire, but after school? My university—my degree,” I babble, trying to bring my thoughts together. “I’m getting a proper job after school.”
“So, this isn’t a proper job?”
I let out a frustrated sigh and lean forward, whispering furtively since we’re getting stares from nearby tables. “Mummy, I love you and I respect what you’ve built. But…” I plead with my eyes, voice, and all that’s in me, “I want to forge my path, make my mark in the world. I can’t do that if I’m tied to the joint. I want to use my education and skills to create something meaningful.”
Our conflicting desires create pressure between us. The air is heavy with a tense silence. I’ve been home less than two hours and didn’t intend to have this conversation. At least not here. And not so soon. But I guess now that it’s out in the open, it’s best to finish it.
Mummy breaks the silence with a flat, monotone voice. “Fiyin, I understand your ambitions, but please understand how much this joint means to me. What it means to our family.”
I have three semesters to go at Hopewell Uni and I believe it’s best to start setting boundaries and expectations. I struggle to find the right words, still it is hard to use them. “Mummy, I don’t want to let you down. I need to follow my own dreams.” Chest out, I take a deep breath, waiting for her response.
It never comes.
She just sits there observing me.
An idea pops and I smile. “Maybe we can find a compromise? A way for me to pursue my career while still preserving the joint.”
Mummy’s expression falters a bit before it brightens, like she’s deciding to move forward. “What compromise?”
Relief washes over me, mingling with a tinge of guilt. “Daniel loves the joint a—and Aunty S?epe? is passionate about this place, too.”
“So you want me to hand all of this to your father’s people?”
“But you like Aunty S?epe?.” I reach for her hand again.
“I was hoping you would take over.” She shrugs. “When I realized you would be my only girl child, I knew I had to do extra, so you never have to.” She sighs, biting her bottom lip. “No matter what, this place will always be yours.”
Our hands remain clasped, a silent promise between mother and daughter. The tension dissipates, replaced by an unspoken understanding.
“Mummy, thank you,” I whisper, hoping my voice is filled with all the gratitude and love I’m feeling right now. “I want you to be proud of me, and I promise to make the most of the opportunities that come my way.”
I know the road ahead won’t be easy, but the compromise feels like a step towards both our happiness.
She pats my hand. “You better.”
“Mama Gee!”