They've been telling everyone for months. 'I don't do swallow. I'm trying to watch my weight. I'm on a low-carb journey.' The event is buffet-style. The amala comes out. Their resolve dies. The Nigerian "I don't eat swallow" declaration is a performance piece. It is announced at every gathering. It is posted on Instagram stories with salad photos. It is mentioned unprompted in conversations about unrelated topics. "Oh, you went to the beach? Nice. I don't eat swallow, by the way." Then the reality hits. The party buffet has pounded yam. The pounded yam is smooth. The egusi is thick. The aroma is doing spiritual warfare. They hover. They hesitate. They take "just a taste" to be polite. The taste becomes a plate. The plate becomes two. The "low-carb journey" ends in public, witnessed by everyone who heard the declaration. And the excuses! "It's a cheat day." "I haven't had it in months." "The egusi looked too good." The excuses are for the audience. The truth is simpler: swallow is superior. Swallow is ancestral. Swallow does not care about your keto. The witnesses are merciless. "I thought you don't eat swallow?" they ask, mouths full of their own second helping. The hypocrisy is communal. Everyone is cheating. Everyone is judging. The buffet is the great equalizer. Have you witnessed a "I don't eat swallow" breakdown? Or are you the person who publicly shames while privately indulging?
