Lockdown… I miss my garri ooo

By Olamidé Adams

LIKE the saying goes in Yoruba, isé ajé ló s’omo nù bí òkò — it is one’s vocation that creates a distance, far from one’s home or place of preference.
Working on a project in the Indian Ocean had kept me apart from my family in Paris for some months. In February 2020, I decided to visit my wife and daughter for 10 days before returning to the grind in the middle of nowhere. I was happy going back home, as I had missed so much the two people who matter most to me. Besides honouring a couple of rendezvous in mainland France and Switzerland during my holidays, I maximised my time at home with my ladies to the fullest.
In early March of 2020, the sting of COVID-19 started biting harder globally. In France, infections and hospitalisations were climbing at an alarming rate. Three days before my return to Mayotte, the French Island where I worked, President Emmanuel Macron announced a sudden lockdown of the country for a month in order to curb the spread of the corona virus. Immediately we heard the news, I put my return flight on hold as I would rather be with family than alone in my small studio in faraway land. My wife and 1 decided to move to the country side to observe the lockdown because of our little four-year-old daughter, who had so much energy and needed space to run around.

WE arrived in Orleans, home of the legendary Jean d’Arc, at about 10am on Tuesday March, 17, 2020, to begin our “house arrest”. The lockdown was supposed to come into force by noon on that day. We dropped our bags in the house and thereafter headed straight out to stock up on food and other necessities. I was confident that in the “grande surface”, the very big supermarkets typical to country regions in France, I could get African foodstuff like yam, plantain, okro, habanero peppers…and most importantly garri. I am one of those Ijebu people who can “smoke” the cassava granules morning, afternoon and night. Everywhere I go for more than two weeks, I must have stock of that staple.
Getting to the exotic section of the Auchan supermarket where we went for shopping, everything was gone! Yam, pepper and those ingredients you’d need to make yourself feel at home with food. Only a few fingers of overripe plantain were left and as a beggar has no choice, I picked up some. Unhappily, I continued the rest of the shopping for necessities with family, with the “no garri for one month” turbulence raging through my mind. I was condemned to “oyinbo” food under lockdown.
The first few days were tolerable as I managed what we had at home, including lentils in replacement of beans and purée de pommes de terre (mashed potatoes) in place of eba. Then, I couldn’t take it anymore. I consulted the oracle to find me an African store in Orléans. I was even ready to drive to the next town to find happiness if needed.

Google maps didn’t disappoint. After clicking search on my key words “African Store,”, the good news popped up. Exo Centre, an African supermarket, was situated at just 7 kilometres from where we were residing. Wasting no time, I printed out the “Attestation de Deplacement” (movement declaration form) required by the French authorities for one to go out and get necessities during the stay-at-home order. I then headed to the Exo Centre.
Getting to rue de l’Argonne where the store was situated, there were cars everywhere. At a distance, I could see the store and the long queue of people of African descent. Certainly, they were questing for the same thing as myself, African food stuff. I hate queuing for anything but I joined the line in this case. Fortunately, the wait wasn’t so long and when I got into the store, I wanted to buy everything. I stocked up on yam, beans, pepper, plantain, okro fingers (picked up two large bags), groundnut, milo and of course garri. My quest was over.
I got back home and headed straight to the kitchen to prepare a dish of “ila asepo”, with other ingredients I also bought, accompanied with hot-steaming eba. From that day, it was easy to live through the lockdown. I had enough at home and knew where I could get more, if ever I ran out of stock.

Adams is a teacher, entrepreneur and culture producer in Paris.