Ngiga

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I remember my growing up years with so much nostalgia and it makes me hold on to my boys now that I still can with everything in me knowing that life goes on and by so quickly. It is very important to me to make the best of the time we have right now for any phase of life that passes by will never be gotten back. I bear in mind that everything that happens with or to us now will form the memories of tomorrow be it pleasant or unpleasant.

I remember Christmas holidays in Lokpanta with every member of the Eke’s family and it was always a beautiful period. Our home was always filled with a lot of activities; from visitors to killing goats/chickens and to making pepper-soups and other delicacies. Mother sometimes preferred to cook in her firewood kitchen or outside the kitchen area on firewood because she loved the taste that the firewood gave to the food, she also liked that more food was churned out faster that way.

Beatrice refused to let go of the village part of her and so right by the gate of the beautiful country home that Ferdinand built, Beatrice had her local kitchen constructed, and in the kitchen she had her “ngiga”. I do not know how to explain the ngiga because I don't know what other tribes call it however, it looks like a cage made from bendable wires and it hangs above the firewood place. It is usually loaded with fresh meat so the heat and smoke from the firewood after each cooking somehow cook the meat up there. The local smoker, ngiga was also a way of preserving meat in the olden days because there were no fridges. In some cases, some people just hang the meat openly above the firewood place without the ngiga.

Some other things like corn maybe hung up there but I never asked mother what the corn was for since it was never eaten.

Cooking in the ngiga is a process which takes several days, sometimes mother marinades her favorite parts of the cow or goat meat and puts them in the ngiga and then hangs it above the firewood. She waits patiently for the meat to be well done no matter how longs it takes. This process makes the meat cook slowly and very beautifully; it is the most delicious thing ever and it was a taboo to take meat from mother’s ngiga; it was special and no one dared dipped hands in there.

I remember that big sister Ezioma was an abacha monster and she would always find time after the main meals to make some abacha for those of us who were interested (abacha is a delicacy of the Igbos). She would also garnish the abacha with fish or meat from what is left from all the cooking. On one particular day, Ezioma made her specialty but realized after the act that there was protein to enjoy the abacha with.

I still do not know the spirit that moved Ezioma to go into Beatrice’s firewood kitchen and the same spirit led her to the ngiga and still moved her to take a piece of meat from there. She used her hands to separate the meat, she tore them in pieces and spread generously on the abacha which was still in the mortar. In those days we never bothered to dish the abacha in plates; interested parties simply gathered around the mortar, we either squatted, knelt, or pulled up small stools and ate straight out of the mortar with our bare hands. Those were beautiful days that can only be relived in our minds; we ate and laughed as we caught those who tried to eat more meat or fish than others.

Like every other day, we enjoyed the meal but it was particularly more delicious on that day because of the"anu okpo" (smoked meat) from the ngiga. It was late in the evening and I also remember that the generator had difficulties coming up on that day and so Ezioma took the meat in the dark. 

When the gods want to kill someone, they first make the person mad and that was exactly what happened to Ezioma. Just before the abacha finished she went back to the ngiga and got more meat and we couldn’t complain because it delicious and since it was one food that Beatrice was stingy with, we had a field day. 

She only dished it to us in a few pieces and so we would never have our fill of the smoked meat. It is understandable why she was this way with “anu okpo”, the process was tedious and if you found it in the market it was expensive. More so, Beatrice only cooked this meat during the Christmas holidays and so she would usually be deliberate about using it so it would last longer. This particular type of meat adds a special kind of flavour to every meal; Beatrice would use it to make yam pottage, native jollof rice, oha soup and any other type of food and oh it was so good!

Fast forward to later that night when the gods spoke to Beatrice to check her meat in the ngiga and the gates of hell opened. How could we have known that Beatrice knew exactly the amount of meat and the different parts that she put in there? In the Eke’s family, there are three generations of children, those born in the 60s, the 70s, and later on, the 90s, there is a stand-alone 80s.  This particular incident was among the 70s kids; as we were in the room gisting that night, Cordelia the housekeeper came to tell us that mother wanted to see us and we all went downstairs happily to meet her in the living room but when we saw the ngiga placed on a newspaper on top of a stool and a tray filled with smoked meat from the ngiga  kept in groups, we knew that there was trouble in paradise.

Onye welu anu n’ngiga? Who took some meat from the ngiga? Mother’s face was red at this time and her glasses hung from the rope on her big bossom. In those days, Beatrice removed her glasses to discuss serious matters and wore them to drive or read. We all went mute at her question because we did not want to send Ezioma to an early grave. We all knew not to go to the ngiga to touch the meat but Ezioma ignored the voice of reasoning.

All I can say is that, Christmas ended for us and if we could, we would have vomited the meat. Ferdinand gave us a lecture on respecting his wife’s space; no one had ever done that before so why were we made to feel so bad? Ezioma owned up and she got the most bashing as the perpetrator and we were treated as accomplices to the act. We did not get to eat any more smoked meat for the rest of the holiday. Years later, the incident became a big joke in the family and each time anyone said to Beatrice, “onye welu anu n’ngiga?” she would have a good laugh and her response would be “nwa beef”.

Memories are indeed treasures!