Jollof Love

2- Tarnished Flavours

The world became noisier when one had their eyes closed.

Folarin tried to tune it out, but he could sense the jet lag aiming to pull him into sleep. He pulled his khaki baseball cap closer over his face, and contemplated plugging in his AirPods to listen to some music, something loud enough to keep his eyes open.

He smelt the aroma of the food and scrunched up his nose. It was Jollof rice, that much he could deduce, and it was close.

There was something about food cooked with so much oil that gave off a scent that threw Folarin off. Kind of like the smell of a leaking petrol tank of a vehicle, or clothes not properly dried and stuffed into closed spaces. It was suffocating, and that was putting it mildly.

He opened his eyes, and the first person he saw was Tayo chewing on a large piece of meat. He looked to be so focused on his task, and Folarin could only picture him the way goats chewed on inedible materials like clothes, yet chose to keep at it.

Tayo stopped chewing and stared down at the meat as if it was being uncooperative in its digestive journey down his throat. Folarin watched, waiting for him to dump the meat somewhere, but Tayo took the entire piece and stuffed it into his mouth.

"Something must kill a man, yours is most likely going to be suffocation from that leather you call a meat," Folarin said. Tayo looked at him and gave him a full grin, the barely masticated meat in view.

"TY," it was Reggie's voice, tinged with irritation, which was rare to hear. "Act like you've been here before."

"What? A graduation ceremony? I experienced one," the words somehow didn't come out jumbled from Tayo's stuffed mouth.

Folarin looked away from him and back at his surroundings. Most people underneath the rented tent were wearing white, and he wondered if there was colour coordination done at graduations as well. He watched the food table as servers opened up more coolers of food, and the air was infused with aromas of all kinds, scents Folarin had grown familiar with at ceremonies, yet it repulsed him at the moment.

He had tried to eat the fried rice earlier, but couldn't get past three spoons. The flavours were clashing, as if an accident was happening inside his mouth. The texture of the rice was not uniform, some soft and hard, as if they had mixed in two kinds of rice. The vegetables weren't sauteed properly, and if he had his way, he would have sanctioned the caterers for cooking such a preposterousness of a meal. And the moinmoin, he didn't even want to go there.

Reggie's brother, Adam, the graduand, was smiling and taking pictures with a bunch of people, gleaming into cameras as he held up his scroll, the cap positioned at a funny angle, the gown sitting smartly across his shoulders.

If Folarin understood what he was doing at that ceremony, his brain might have given him a rational explanation. But two days ago, back in Lagos, when Reggie had mentioned that he was traveling for his brother's graduation in the East, he accepted the invite, which surprised Reggie, mainly because Folarin was always busy. And Folarin's only reason had been because he was bored, not like Tayo who was bewitched from birth to hound after food for the rest of his life, especially the free kind. It had been a road trip, and aches since the day before hung like heavy garbs on Folarin's body.

"Guy," Reggie turned to him, his braids swishing with that motion. "You wan chop? I will get you rice."

Folarin shook his head. "I am not hungry. At least not anymore."

"Is it because of TY?"

"No," Folarin's eyes fell on Tayo's plate, and he could see the greasy marks on the spoon and beneath the rice. The perfect kind of murder weapon for someone with high cholesterol. "I am good."