My confidence was high until Pap (Akamu) showed me my size….
Let me tell you something from the depth of my soul today.
Pap don humble even the strongest warrior before.
You see that soft, innocent-looking akamu wey dey sit down quietly for plate?
Don’t let its softness fool you.
Pap no get joy. Pap no get conscience. Pap fit disgrace you in front of your enemies and families combined.
In this life, if you think you have conquered all kitchen battles, try pap.
That is when you will understand that some destinies are not attacked by witches,
some destinies are attacked by akamu.
Growing up, I was that child who could cook almost anything.
Small me that time, I could fry eggs with style, cook jollof without stress, even prepare ogbono soup wey fit make visitor lick pot.
My aunties used to brag about me:
“Elizabeth don sabi cook pass her age o!”
I would smile shyly, feeling like the senior chef of the entire compound.
Deep inside my heart, there was one silent fear.
One secret weakness I didn’t want anybody to know.
Pap.
Yes, that simple breakfast.
That ordinary akamu.
That yellow or white powdery thing we all think we understand.
No matter how good I was at cooking, once it was time to make pap…
My confidence go vanish like network during a rainstorm.
My spirit go begin shake like NEPA light.
You know that fear you feel when you know you can fail something that looks very simple?
That shame you feel when people assume it’s easy but your destiny says otherwise?
That was me with pap.
I used to hear people say,
“Making akamu is the easiest thing now! Just mix and pour hot water.”
Anytime I heard that, I would just smile and nod but deep in my heart I knew: “These people have not fought the real battle.”
Because akamu will humble you.
Pap will test your confidence.
Pap will expose your weaknesses.
Pap will disgrace your generation if you’re not spiritually strong.
People think cooking is only about skill—
My dear, pap is not a skill. Pap is grace.
You need the help of God.
You need the support of ancestors.
You need spiritual backing and a strong knee to kneel down and pray the pap will thicken.
Pap is like life:
Just when you think everything is going smoothly, it will shift and become watery.
One minute everything is thick and promising, next minute everything scatter like relationship wey no get foundation.
The day I will never forget was the day my father called me.
He said:
“Elizabeth, go and make pap for me and your uncle that came to visit.”
You know when the instruction comes from your father, failure is not an option.
My heart skipped three beats.
My soul began to cry.
Even my kidney weak.
But I pretended like a strong girl:
“Yes sir!”
Inside me, I was whispering,
“Holy Spirit, please follow me to the kitchen.”
I tied my wrapper like a village champion, carried my stainless plate, fetched the pap and entered the kitchen with boldness I didn’t feel.
The moment I started mixing the pap with water, I already sensed that something was wrong.
It was too smooth… too calm… too quiet.
And quiet pap is dangerous pap.
I added hot water.
My dear, the pap changed immediately.
It started misbehaving.
Instead of thickening, it started looking like the Atlantic Ocean.
Watery like a gutter after rainfall.
Mocking me like:
“So you think you can defeat me today?”
My body started sweating like a Christmas goat.
My hands were trembling.
I was turning the pap but the pap was turning me instead.
The spoon could not rescue me.
My destiny was slipping away gradually.
My father and uncle were in the parlour waiting for hot pap.
If they tasted watery akamu from my hand, that day would enter family history.
I tried to adjust it by adding more pap.
It refused.
I tried to add small cold water.
It scattered.
I tried everything.
Nothing worked.
Pap humbled me.
Pap embarrassed my generation.
Just when I was about to cry, I heard footsteps.
It was my mother.
She saw me inside the kitchen sweating, frustrated, shaking, looking like somebody writing WAEC without reading.
She pitied me.
She gently walked closer, looked at the pap, then looked at me with compassion.
Then she said the golden words:
“Nne, cook it small for fire make the water go down.”
My eyes opened.
Wisdom entered me.
I quickly carried the pap, placed it on fire and slowly stirred it like mama taught me.
The pap began to thicken.
Destiny returned to alignment.
My confidence resurrected.
That day I realized:
There is wisdom in listening to people who have suffered before you.
Experience is a teacher that no university can give.
Before that day, pap had dealt with me properly.
One day I made pap that scattered completely.
I served it.
My father looked at it and asked:
“Elizabeth, what is this?”
Before I could answer:
I chop beating.
Not ordinary beating o.
That beating that resets your brain and makes you question your life choices.
That beating that makes you promise God you will change.
The painful part?
The woman selling pap in our area was far away.
So after spoiling the first pap…
I would have to trek to the market with sweat, tears and shame, just to buy another one.
Imagine walking under a hot sun, carrying a cup of pap and thinking about your life.
Imagine neighbors looking at you with pity.
Pap taught me humility.
With time, after many losses and many tears, I learned a powerful secret:
Always divide your pap into two or three.
Why?
Because if the first one embarrasses you, at least you still have spare to redeem your destiny.
Another thing
Never use plastic plates.
Use stainless.
Plastic will allow the heat to escape and make it watery.
Stainless will hold the heat, save the pap and allow you to steam it back to life.
Pap is like life:
If one attempt fails, try again with wisdom.
Don’t stop.
Don’t give up.
Don’t let failure record your name.
You learn as you live but wisdom is true wealth. An igbo adage says that “Ako bu ije”(Wisdom is the way).
Pap taught me that truly.
“I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me.” – Philippians 4:13
Even pap.
Yes.
Even pap.
Pap can humble anybody, don’t brag.
Tears + prayer + experience = perfect pap.
Wisdom saves destiny.
Always have backup pap.
Stainless is better than plastic.
Every mistake is a teacher.
MORALS
Life is like making pap.
Sometimes you think everything is set, then suddenly things scatter.
Sometimes you do your best, yet results don’t match your effort.
With patience, wisdom, prayer and persistence…
Everything will eventually thicken.
Everything will eventually align.
Everything will eventually turn out well.
Failure does not define you.
Discouragement does not stop your destiny.
Every challenge is grooming you for greatness.
Even if life tries to disgrace you the first time, stand up, divide the load, approach again with wisdom and you will succeed.
No battle is too small to learn from.
No mistake is useless.
Sometimes, the things that embarrass us today end up becoming the stories that inspire others tomorrow.
If pap has ever beaten you before, share your story in the comments.
Let’s laugh, heal and learn together.
You never know your story might encourage somebody wey wan give up.
© 2025 Elizabeth Akudo All Rights Reserved
Follow @ Elizabeth Akudo for more inspiring stories that feel like home #NigerianKitchenStories #AkamuChronicles #Motivation #LifeLessons #Inspiration #AkudoWrites #Storytelling #AkamuWahala #PapStruggle #KitchenDrama #NigerianStory #GraceOfGod
Let me tell you something from the depth of my soul today.
Pap don humble even the strongest warrior before.
You see that soft, innocent-looking akamu wey dey sit down quietly for plate?
Don’t let its softness fool you.
Pap no get joy. Pap no get conscience. Pap fit disgrace you in front of your enemies and families combined.
In this life, if you think you have conquered all kitchen battles, try pap.
That is when you will understand that some destinies are not attacked by witches,
some destinies are attacked by akamu.
Growing up, I was that child who could cook almost anything.
Small me that time, I could fry eggs with style, cook jollof without stress, even prepare ogbono soup wey fit make visitor lick pot.
My aunties used to brag about me:
“Elizabeth don sabi cook pass her age o!”
I would smile shyly, feeling like the senior chef of the entire compound.
Deep inside my heart, there was one silent fear.
One secret weakness I didn’t want anybody to know.
Pap.
Yes, that simple breakfast.
That ordinary akamu.
That yellow or white powdery thing we all think we understand.
No matter how good I was at cooking, once it was time to make pap…
My confidence go vanish like network during a rainstorm.
My spirit go begin shake like NEPA light.
You know that fear you feel when you know you can fail something that looks very simple?
That shame you feel when people assume it’s easy but your destiny says otherwise?
That was me with pap.
I used to hear people say,
“Making akamu is the easiest thing now! Just mix and pour hot water.”
Anytime I heard that, I would just smile and nod but deep in my heart I knew: “These people have not fought the real battle.”
Because akamu will humble you.
Pap will test your confidence.
Pap will expose your weaknesses.
Pap will disgrace your generation if you’re not spiritually strong.
People think cooking is only about skill—
My dear, pap is not a skill. Pap is grace.
You need the help of God.
You need the support of ancestors.
You need spiritual backing and a strong knee to kneel down and pray the pap will thicken.
Pap is like life:
Just when you think everything is going smoothly, it will shift and become watery.
One minute everything is thick and promising, next minute everything scatter like relationship wey no get foundation.
The day I will never forget was the day my father called me.
He said:
“Elizabeth, go and make pap for me and your uncle that came to visit.”
You know when the instruction comes from your father, failure is not an option.
My heart skipped three beats.
My soul began to cry.
Even my kidney weak.
But I pretended like a strong girl:
“Yes sir!”
Inside me, I was whispering,
“Holy Spirit, please follow me to the kitchen.”
I tied my wrapper like a village champion, carried my stainless plate, fetched the pap and entered the kitchen with boldness I didn’t feel.
The moment I started mixing the pap with water, I already sensed that something was wrong.
It was too smooth… too calm… too quiet.
And quiet pap is dangerous pap.
I added hot water.
My dear, the pap changed immediately.
It started misbehaving.
Instead of thickening, it started looking like the Atlantic Ocean.
Watery like a gutter after rainfall.
Mocking me like:
“So you think you can defeat me today?”
My body started sweating like a Christmas goat.
My hands were trembling.
I was turning the pap but the pap was turning me instead.
The spoon could not rescue me.
My destiny was slipping away gradually.
My father and uncle were in the parlour waiting for hot pap.
If they tasted watery akamu from my hand, that day would enter family history.
I tried to adjust it by adding more pap.
It refused.
I tried to add small cold water.
It scattered.
I tried everything.
Nothing worked.
Pap humbled me.
Pap embarrassed my generation.
Just when I was about to cry, I heard footsteps.
It was my mother.
She saw me inside the kitchen sweating, frustrated, shaking, looking like somebody writing WAEC without reading.
She pitied me.
She gently walked closer, looked at the pap, then looked at me with compassion.
Then she said the golden words:
“Nne, cook it small for fire make the water go down.”
My eyes opened.
Wisdom entered me.
I quickly carried the pap, placed it on fire and slowly stirred it like mama taught me.
The pap began to thicken.
Destiny returned to alignment.
My confidence resurrected.
That day I realized:
There is wisdom in listening to people who have suffered before you.
Experience is a teacher that no university can give.
Before that day, pap had dealt with me properly.
One day I made pap that scattered completely.
I served it.
My father looked at it and asked:
“Elizabeth, what is this?”
Before I could answer:
I chop beating.
Not ordinary beating o.
That beating that resets your brain and makes you question your life choices.
That beating that makes you promise God you will change.
The painful part?
The woman selling pap in our area was far away.
So after spoiling the first pap…
I would have to trek to the market with sweat, tears and shame, just to buy another one.
Imagine walking under a hot sun, carrying a cup of pap and thinking about your life.
Imagine neighbors looking at you with pity.
Pap taught me humility.
With time, after many losses and many tears, I learned a powerful secret:
Always divide your pap into two or three.
Why?
Because if the first one embarrasses you, at least you still have spare to redeem your destiny.
Another thing
Never use plastic plates.
Use stainless.
Plastic will allow the heat to escape and make it watery.
Stainless will hold the heat, save the pap and allow you to steam it back to life.
Pap is like life:
If one attempt fails, try again with wisdom.
Don’t stop.
Don’t give up.
Don’t let failure record your name.
You learn as you live but wisdom is true wealth. An igbo adage says that “Ako bu ije”(Wisdom is the way).
Pap taught me that truly.
“I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me.” – Philippians 4:13
Even pap.
Yes.
Even pap.
Pap can humble anybody, don’t brag.
Tears + prayer + experience = perfect pap.
Wisdom saves destiny.
Always have backup pap.
Stainless is better than plastic.
Every mistake is a teacher.
MORALS
Life is like making pap.
Sometimes you think everything is set, then suddenly things scatter.
Sometimes you do your best, yet results don’t match your effort.
With patience, wisdom, prayer and persistence…
Everything will eventually thicken.
Everything will eventually align.
Everything will eventually turn out well.
Failure does not define you.
Discouragement does not stop your destiny.
Every challenge is grooming you for greatness.
Even if life tries to disgrace you the first time, stand up, divide the load, approach again with wisdom and you will succeed.
No battle is too small to learn from.
No mistake is useless.
Sometimes, the things that embarrass us today end up becoming the stories that inspire others tomorrow.
If pap has ever beaten you before, share your story in the comments.
Let’s laugh, heal and learn together.
You never know your story might encourage somebody wey wan give up.
© 2025 Elizabeth Akudo All Rights Reserved
Follow @ Elizabeth Akudo for more inspiring stories that feel like home #NigerianKitchenStories #AkamuChronicles #Motivation #LifeLessons #Inspiration #AkudoWrites #Storytelling #AkamuWahala #PapStruggle #KitchenDrama #NigerianStory #GraceOfGod
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