Food Has a Passport: Africa Is Not a Kitchen

A Traveller’s Perspective

I do not understand why people always have so much misconception when it comes to anything African. My colleague kept inviting me to an “African” restaurant they found and wanted to try. I refused for the longest time because, as I mentioned to them, I did not know what African food meant. So I told them that whenever they figured out what country the food actually came from, they should let me know and I would decide if I was interested. They failed this very simple task, and I eventually got tired of being bugged, so I finally went with them.

When the food arrived, I mentioned that the chef was definitely Yoruba. They were surprised, so I explained that it was because of how the melon soup looked and the garlic and ginger I could taste in the jollof rice. It was not a fulfilling experience for me, not because the food was not good, but because I was simply not in the mood for that kind of taste.

I will elaborate. I am from the South of Nigeria, and even though we share common foods with many parts of the country, our cooking methods and ingredients differ so much that you never get the same result even when making the same dish.

For instance, ginger and garlic are almost alien to us in the AkwaCross region. We do not use either of them in our stews, not in our rice dishes, and definitely not in our soups. We may use ginger sparingly in drinks and both ingredients sparingly in meats, but the majority of the time we do without them. As a result, many of us from that region are not accustomed to that taste in our meals.

Spicy chicken butt with African basil and lemon basil

We also do not use bell peppers or tomatoes in our soups. As for locust bean, there might be a soup or two that require it, but for the most part we do without that too.

Basically, apart from fermented cassava, we do not use ingredients with strong aromas that can overpower our meals. That is not to say there is anything wrong with it. It is simply different for us.

African basil and lemon basil are to us what garlic, ginger, and locust bean are to other parts of Nigeria. In the AkwaCross region, pork meat is also a major part of our diet and culture. This is why you will find a wide variety of pork joints and street vendors across the region. No matter where you start from, you will not have to walk far to find very delicious spicy roasted pork.

I grew up eating this and I absolutely love it. Spicy roasted pork is one of my favourite street foods. That and drinking coconut water are some of my favourite things to do when I visit my hometown.

It is a part of me now, which is why I can never relate when I speak with people from other regions of Nigeria and they say you eat pork, eww. I feel the same way about garlic and ginger in soups or rice, but you would never hear me say it aloud to anyone.

So imagine this. If culinary experiences can be so different and significant among people within the same border, how much more among people across fifty four distinct countries.

White Horse Oyster Bar, Edinburgh – Scottish kitchen

It turns out the restaurant my colleague invited us to actually had Nigeria in its name, yet they still called it an African restaurant. And this was not the first time someone invited me to an African restaurant only for me to arrive and find that the so called African restaurant had very specific identifiers that anyone desiring could’ve noticed with ease.

I had a similar experience in Hamburg a few months ago. My host wanted to treat me to some African food. I was slightly irritated but I obliged without making a fuss. When we arrived, it was an Ethiopian restaurant that did not only state the country clearly, but also highlighted the specific region in Ethiopia where the menu came from.

I had beef in peanut sauce with a swallow that I imagine was made from potato, but for some reason was listed as fufu on the menu. As far as I know, Ethiopians do not have a food in their national cuisine equivalent to West African fufu, and they do not traditionally eat fufu.

I can understand wanting to cater to a wider audience, but what I do not appreciate is Africans reinforcing the same harmful generalisations that blur the richness and diversity of our flavours.

The same thing happened in Berlin. My bestfriend offered to treat me to African food, yet the moment we arrived the sign right in front of us clearly read Sudanese kitchen.

I would like to point out that fufu is not an umbrella term across Africa. Fufu is usually made from cassava and thanks to our Ghanaian neighbours, plantain too. That is it. The correct umbrella term for the starchy balls you dip into soups at many West African restaurants is swallow. This means that if it is not made from cassava or from cassava and plantain, then it should not be called fufu. If you are not sure, you can simply call it swallow.

Calabar Zone, London – Nigerian kitchen. Dish: Mbukpauyo (wild mango seed) soup with poundo yam swallow

I love dining out, and in all my experiences, no one has ever invited me to a European or a North American restaurant. It is always specific. Italian, Greek, Turkish, and so on. Restaurants are clear about who they are because their identity matters. And I like to think that people understand that the specificity is part of the experience. Which is why it continues to stand out that African cuisines are the ones people collapse into a single vague category.

True education encourages understanding and critical thought across various domains, with no need to anchor everything to western culture. And so it is rather disappointing when individuals who regard themselves as educated still approach Africa with such a narrow and ethnocentric lens. But that also shows that the ideas people hold about African food are often shaped less by knowledge and more by longstanding assumptions.

Yet regardless of where I travel to, I always find that people are proud to state exactly who they are through their food. That clarity is part of the experience and part of the respect. This is why it saddens my heart that African cuisines are so often denied this same level of recognition.

I believe the most meaningful change begins with small acts of clarity. When you know better, you speak better, and when you speak better, you help others see the world with sharper eyes. Food carries history, memory, geography, and identity, and it reminds us that cultures are not monolithic. They are textured and rooted in real places with real people.