The biggest betrayal of our childhood wasn't heartbreak. It was opening an ice cream container and finding stew.
If you grew up in an African household, you've probably experienced this particular disappointment. It's a hot afternoon. You open the freezer and spot a beautiful tub of vanilla ice cream. Nobody has mentioned buying ice cream, but you're not about to question your blessings. You grab a spoon, take the container out, and open it with the excitement of someone who has just won the lottery.
Stew.
Not even a little ice cream hiding underneath. Just frozen tomato stew with two pieces of meat staring back at you. And somehow, your mother is surprised that you're upset.
"What's wrong with the stew? Is it not food?"
Madam, respectfully, I was expecting dessert.
The answer is actually quite simple: African mothers don't believe in wasting a perfectly good container. Why buy storage bowls when the ice cream company has already provided one for free? That vanilla ice cream tub has a second career waiting for it. Today, it's holding stew. Tomorrow, it could be groundnuts, dried fish, or something nobody in the house can identify. And don't even get us started on the Danish butter cookie tins that contain everything except biscuits.
At this point, opening containers in an African household is a game of chance.
The worst part is that you never learn. Even after being disappointed five times, you'll still open the next ice cream container with a little hope. Because what if, just this once, it's actually ice cream? It never is. And when you complain, your mother will remind you that there is food in the house and you should be grateful.
She's right, of course. But that's not the point.
We've all been victims of the great African ice cream container betrayal, but there's one thing you can count on: when you order your favourite African meal on Dishout, you know what you're getting. Unless you order stew. Then, well, you asked for it.
Because home should be just one tap away
