The sun will rise again, and I will try again: Amala Edition

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Today, I failed 😞.  I mean, I don't want to be salty, but I've had a fair share of failures and bad results, so it's not entirely new to me. But, this experience , e pain me die. 
What happened?
I am an Ebira and Yoruba Nigerian girl, but for a long time, because of what I was taught as culture and norm, I was never referred to as a Yoruba girl, only Ebira. A language i can't even speak nor understand to save my life. Yoruba people were usually referred to as the local ones, so I was glad when people didn't identify me with the "local ones". I also enjoyed the attention that always comes with people finding out I speak Yoruba language fluently, and I enjoyed the comment about how I didn't have the accent. Like accent is a bad thing. 
Here is the thing, gradually and by the day, I realize that people really don't care about stuff or you or me that much. So, if I am complimented about my "non-Yoruba" accent this minute, it doesn't stop me from being the subject of gossip the very next minute, so why would I take opinions to mind? Gradually, I started to openly identify more with being Yoruba, I am likely more Yoruba than anything.  Not long after, I started to devour Amala and Pepper, every and any where. 

I  like good food that late last year, we had a work retreat and during a team bonding session, we were asked to talk about random things about ourselves, and also something we hope to kick off our bucket lists in 2021. I talked about how I like to do food tourism, (to the extent i can afford, which has now slowed down because of other expenses, egbami 😰), and how exploring food I've never had before would be on my bucket list in 2021. 

Well, I have deviated so much from what I was writing about. What happened today? Today, I decided to prepare Amala for myself for the first time since I moved here, and boy, it was an epic failure. Me that they used to call to come and help them prepare better swallow fa. My Amala came out horrible, undone and scattered with plenty Koko. It was a rude shock. I chugged my lot of shame with my well prepared okra soup and drank plenty water. I couldn't finish the amala sha. 
A picture of what my amala looked like (photo credit is Pinterest).
The sun will rise again, and I will try again 💪

P.S: it's awkward that I teach Creative writing but I do not even know how to write anymore ☹
Yes, the sun will rise again, and I will try again. 

Your Amala model.

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