Butter

For as long as I can remember, I’ve been what we Nigerians call, an A-je-butter. When translated literally, from Yoruba to English, it means “someone who eats butter”. But, the term is used quite differently, it is used to address members of the upper middle class and the rich class.

Being a clueless ajebutter, I didn’t understand why everyone assumed I ate so much butter; as a matter of fact, I avoided butter and mayonnaise, due to my acne problems.

So, one day, I asked my mother to explain this simple puzzle. I asked;

“Mom, why do they call rich people ajebutters? I mean, not all rich people eat butter, right? Is it like a requirement, for the wealthy? If I become successful when I grow up, will I have to buy butter, even if I don’t want to? And just how poor do you have to be, to not afford butter?”

She burst into laughter. It never ceased to amuse her, how clueless I was.

She began to explain how, in the early years of Nigeria, butter was consumed, only, by the elite. You see, butter — along with colonization — was brought to us by the English. And, butter, unlike margarine, spoils if not refrigerated. So, it wasn’t sold in the local marketplaces or bazaars. It was, and still is, only sold in the supermarkets, where the prices of items were doubled and the cashiers refused to negotiate.

So, the average Nigerian settled for margarine. Margarine wouldn’t spoil if NEPA refused to supply electricity, and he didn’t need to head to the supermarket to get it, he could buy it from the mallam across the street.

It made sense. That day, I understood that life was only as simple

as you made it; if you searched for a deeper meaning, chances are you’d find it.

That day was a year ago.

Recently, butter had been scarce in the kitchen. When I asked my mother why butter had been absent from our breakfast lately, she told me how the last two she bought had spoiled. Father had been late on the electricity bill, and it was that time of the year again, fuel scarcity had arrived. The filling stations closed their doors. And we resorted to “black market” fuel, which of course was more expensive. So, we rationed fuel and got roughly five hours of electricity a day. Therefore, the butter spoiled.

Today, mother brought home margarine.