It’s my birthday today.
And I’m just out here, waiting for the birthday cake while having a chat with my mum as we reminisce about the day I was born. No, she didn’t need to remind me, because I could remember. Oh, you don’t remember your first day on earth? Well, that sucks. So, let me give you my gist.
I popped out of the womb at about 5 am and did a backflip as I landed on my feet. Out and grateful oh Lord, out and grateful.
“Where am I?”, I asked, all cool and collected as I dust off the water on my body. “In a kitchen, somewhere in Nigeria”, replied a random woman who I later learnt was a neighbour. “Really? No worries, we’ll make it work”, I concluded.
Why in the kitchen, though? You’d ask. Well, maybe because my mum is a gangster like that… or maybe because there was no fuel to get to the hospital, as it was around a period of fuel scarcity and protest. She had been to the hospital earlier, and they told her the boy wasn’t ready to come out yet. I was just in there, listening and giggling.
I looked around — up, down, left, right — and quickly realised that there wasn’t much to work with, life was already leading me 1-0.
“What’s this chain on my belly?” I curiously asked. “That’s the umbilical cord. I’ll go bring scissors so we can cut it off and……”, she replied. But that didn’t matter, as I had already cut it off with my razor-sharp teeth before she could finish her sentence.
“Alright, I need to get cleaned up,” I said. “Eeerm about that…..,” the woman started. “Your mum took her birth bag to the hospital yesterday and left it there. We weren’t expecting you to pop out like this. Maybe next time, give us a heads-up 🙄”
“Apologies, I just got bored in the womb and I’m known for making impulsive decisions. But no issues, I’ll figure it out. Bring me the stove, a pot and some oil.” - I said, as I calmly took control.
“Isn’t it a little too early to start coo…?” she began.
Then, out of nowhere, amidst the quiet chaos, I heard my mum’s voice for the first time, soft but strong, carrying both command and care… “Let him cook!!!” she declared…. and the boy has been “cooking” ever since.
At that moment, I noticed a tall handsome man standing nearby, grinning from ear to ear. “Who are you?” I asked, extending my hand for a handshake. “That’s your DAD!” my mum exclaimed. Oh, sorry. “Nice to meet you, Dad!” I said, immediately prostrating flat on the ground (‘cos I have manners).
As it turns out, pops was extra happy that day, Not just because he had given birth to the greatest, but also because he didn’t have to spend money at the hospital, another penny saved.
“What’s up, pops? You good?” I initiated a conversation. He said he was good but was out of work due to some issue with that newspaper company he was working with. I returned to the stove, added some spices, and did some more cooking. They called him back to the job some days later, and that’s why they named me “KAYODE”—which means, “he who brings back joy”.
So today, apart from telling you my simple birth story in a twisted sarcastic way, I’ll spend most of it like I do every year—dodging calls, avoiding small talk, and eating something sweet. And also, take a moment to sit back and appreciate the fulfillment of my heart’s desire.
And as for everything else—maybe life sucks, maybe it’s chaotic, maybe it’s imperfect, and maybe life is still leading me in scores. Or maybe I’m doing better than most, maybe my existence is better than average, and maybe I’m winning life with a hat trick. It doesn’t matter today. Because I’m here, happy, and still cooking, which is what matters. Thanks to God.
I’ll keep serving up my sarcastic remarks, cooking up whatever’s next, stirring the big pot of life, and keeping the heat on high as I move through it. After all, the kitchen is where I started, and the kitchen is where I’ll thrive.
Let me cook.
