Nigerian parents and their love for expired fridge items

My mother has a fridge that I swear is older than me. The thing is from 1998, green colour, still working like it wants to outlive us all. But the problem is not the fridge. The problem is what she keeps inside.

Last week I opened that fridge to drink water. I saw a pot of stew from maybe two Sundays ago. I asked her, Mama, this stew still good? She said, of course, I just reheat am yesterday. I opened the pot. Something was growing on top. Something green. I said Mama, this thing don develop its own ecosystem. She said, ah, that is just the oil settling. I dey tell you. She then proceeded to scoop out the green part, add fresh pepper, and serve it for my father. My father ate it. He said, the stew sweet today. I just looked at them. See me see wahala.

Nigerian parents will keep fish in the freezer from January, and in June they will still say, ah, this one is still fresh, just defrost am. God bless their resilience but I am buying my own mini fridge this week. I cannot die because of ancestral protein.