Japa people, when last you chop real amala? Abeg own up

My daughter came back from school yesterday and asked me why we don't eat 'normal food' like her friends. I was stirring eba and she said it smells funny. My own child, born in this London, looking at me like I committed offence. Na wa oh. I just told her, my dear, this is what kept your ancestors strong. She rolled her eyes and went to her room.

See ehn, we diaspora people like to pretend we are fine with baked beans and toast, but deep down we are crying for real food. I went to Peckham market last week and saw fresh bitterleaf. My heart jumped like I won lottery. I bought everything the woman had and cooked enough efo riro to last till Christmas. My husband, the Ghanaian, was confused but he ate it well. Even the children finished their plates before asking for pizza.

But here is my question. When we finally go back to Naija for good, will we even survive the heat and the noise? We are too British for Naija and too Naija for Britain. My own children cannot speak Yoruba properly and I am fighting it every day. Sometimes I wonder if japa is just trading one set of problems for another. The money is here, yes, but the soul is there. Which one you go choose, the pound or the peace? Abeg tell me.