Where To Eat The Worst Food In Nnewi

Some stomachs are made of iron and mine is not so far from it. I don’t cook and I travel a lot which puts me at the mercy of restaurants of all kinds, from the classy to the zinky, eating food from the wisely prepared to the ones prepared otherwise.

In the past couple of months, I have found myself in Nnewi a lot of the time and I have eaten in plenty of different places and I can tell you, with authority, I have found the place to eat the worst food in Nnewi.

The people who sell food under the umbrellas opposite Nnamdi Azikiwe University Teaching Hospital, NAUTH, Nnewi gate, Old Onitsha Road serve the worst food in the city.

Your first query with this is that my sample is grossly insufficient. There should be thousands of places to eat food in Nnewi, so why should eating in less than twenty different places give me the power to make such a conclusive remark?

My stomach may be made of something close to iron but my tongue is flesh and I know a terrible food when I eat one. And if there is anything worse than what I ate opposite the Teaching Hospital gate, it will be poison.

In a best-case scenario (I use the word “best” with an apologetic tongue), Teaching gate food should be among the worst in the city and if we rank all the places to eat and award them points, these Teaching guys should be up there in nearly everyone’s terrible top 5.

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And there is something we should not lose an eye on, this is Nnewi and Nnewi cook great dishes. If these guys are this poor and they are not the worst in the town, then it is an indictment of the cooking ability of Nnewi. If this food is the average, then the city is doomed.

So, while eating in less than twenty places is not enough sample pool for a social scientist, it is enough to make an informed opinion. There was common sense before questionnaires.

One bad meal doesn’t make a place the worst in the city, you point out. I agree which was what I thought the first day I ate in this place. So I came back the second time and avoided the first woman. I ate food from the second woman and it was t-t-terrible (no typo).

Perhaps this one, too, is also her bad day, I told myself which was why I ate the food the third time. Disaster is the word that first comes to mind on remembering that day and I doubt disaster is a suitable modifier. Now, a social scientist would say three meals are not enough to make the conclusion to which I say, Dear Social Scientist, not my life.

I won’t risk my life just so I can prove to a self-righteous academia that my opinion is worth entertaining. Let my conclusion be for you, Academia, the beginning of the research on the worst places to eat in Nnewi. You can start from the guys opposite Teaching and go eating there every day for 30 days as a trial. Write your will.

How bad is the food?

Even Shakespeare might struggle to do justice to the food if thou eateth it. I will try.

When you come to the place, they would ask you if you want jollof or fried rice. The jollof I said yes to was the colour of white-washed yellow and there is a certain reluctance among the rice to come together in harmony. It was as though there was malice in the food.

The first impression the food gave me was that this was something you would serve birds.

But it may taste better, I told myself but I didn’t believe myself.

Do you want salad? they asked me. I said no the first time but the second time, I said yes so let me describe the salad. It was amateurishly sliced cabbage with a pretentious amount of salad cream. The first time, I requested fish and was dished something round, decimated, and black with obvious – it entered hot oil at least three times before it found its way into my meal.

The day I requested chicken, they gave me the leg of a fowl that might have suffered acute malnutrition. You look at the flesh and you get the feeling of dryness.

The first time I ate the food, it was tasteless but I was starving so I finished the meal. The fish was okay but the smell was awful.

The second time, it was punishingly tasteless. The salad that should have served as the qualifier of the taste become bumps with my teeth crashing into them. But the salad helped but not in the aspect of taste. The salad provided a distraction.

The third time I ate this meal, it was painfully without taste. It was so bad, that I wince whenever I swallowed. I tried to eat without my tongue touching the food and to swallow without the food touching the food walls of my gullet. The chicken was a little sour.

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Of course, I didn’t finish the food. If I did, I won’t be writing this. My stomach might be made of iron but I was eating food that was acid, food capable of melting and setting fire on my stomach. An unmovable stomach has now met an unbeatable, unswallowable, and undigestable food.

I am impressed. Their consistency is touching, inspiring.

Which is why I am giving them an award of excellence. It was Martin Luther King Jr who said, “If a man is called to be a street sweeper, he should sweep streets even as a Michaelangelo painted, or Beethoven composed music or Shakespeare wrote poetry. He should sweep streets so well that all the hosts of heaven and earth will pause to say, ‘Here lived a great street sweeper who did his job well.’”

In the same way, if you are called to be a terrible cook, be that even as Michaelangelo painted, or Beethoven composed music or Shakespeare wrote poetry. Cook and serve food so terribly that the sons of men would eat and pause to say, “Here is a terrible place to eat that deserves an award.”

I believe.

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