The unhappy circumstance was my gas finishing at 6pm on Sunday.
Jollof was halfway done. Pot on fire. Guests coming in 1 hour. Port Harcourt traffic already swallowing the roads. No gas refill shop open. No light to use induction. Just me, raw rice, and the smell of burnt onions.
I stood there staring at that pot like it insulted me personally.
That was the moment I learned: unhappy circumstances don't ask permission. They arrive with smoke and no backup plan.
So I did the only thing I knew. I carried the pot.
Walked 20 minutes to mama's shop downstairs. Her gas cooker still worked. Her wooden spoon was older than me. I finished cooking on her gas while she told stories about my mother doing the same thing 20 years ago.
The jollof came out better. Smokier. Richer.
Guests said it was the best I'd ever made. They didn't know about the gas. They didn't need to.
The unhappy circumstance wasn't the gas finishing.
The unhappy circumstance would've been letting the rice burn and going hungry.
Sometimes the universe takes your gas so you remember you have neighbors.
Sometimes it breaks your plan so you find a better flame.
I still cook on that old wooden spoon from mama's kitchen. It reminds me: unhappy circumstances can move you to a better burner.
Images are Al ✨
