Baba Miliki by Oluwole Leigh

It was a Friday night. Central Paris was where we found ourselves after a hard week’s work. Bags had been dropped off and we hopped on Metro line 4 headed to Port de Clignacourt. The destination was Simplon. Two Metro 4 Stops before Simplon is Barbes Rochechouart.  Barbes is simply the Parisienne rendition of Ojuelegba. You step out here into the warm welcome of street fights, roast corn, police sirens and shops selling cheap clothing. The shops seemed to be named by some individual suffering from a rare form of manic depression – Tati, Toto, Tata. The journey to Simplon continued on Metro 4′s noisy track. We got off at Simplon with nice reminders from the station announcer to keep our belongings in a safe manner. Simplon is an area of Paris with a high migrant population. It is located in the 18^th Arrondissement of Paris.  North Africans, West Africans, Pakistani and many other nationals call Simplon home. We walked for about a hundred metres before getting to our destination. You could almost walk past without noticing.  Baba Miliki’s restaurant blends comfortably into the background.

Baba Miliki is owned by a Nigerian who hails from Osun State. He’s spent more than a decade in Paris serving the finest Nigerian dishes. He’s a friendly guy who will bring any Nigerian dish to the train station closest to you. We chose not to have the food delivered because Baba Miliki is more than the food. Indeed, it’s an experience in culture. You may find pounded yam drowning in the sea bed of ogbono soup with some capsized goat meat attempting to float. Egusi, Okra, Nkwobi, Isi-ewu are very much in attendance at Baba Miliki’s place. All the lovely food can be washed down with some frothy palm wine. You step in here and you are transported back to your Nigerian state of origin. The clientele of the day influences the music. The music of KWAM1, Sunny Ade, Ayefele comes on when people from South Western Nigeria are gathered while Oliver De Coque *and Bright Chimezie* are summoned whenever those from the South Eastern part of Nigeria are gathered. Once you step into the door, you drop your acquired French taste and you revert to your default Nigerian taste. You say bye bye to the world of ‘entree and le plat principal’, and you step into the world of ‘swallow and stew’.

We settled down in the restaurant and placed our order. In addition to the quality of the food, you are also treated to intriguing conversations. Wherever 2 or 3 Nigerians are gathered, there is a loud argument waiting to be expressed. Hilarious topics such as ‘Who is richer – Jim Iyke or 2face‘ came up. In the just mentioned conversation, one of the ‘Milikians’ mounted a psychological rostrum and delivered his treatise:‘If you see where Jim Iyke dey spend money, You go know say Jim Iyke na 2face papa, infact Jim Iyke money too much,  na charity him dey use am do now.’ Another one took up the gauntlet: ‘How you go dey mention Jim Iyke wey 2 face dey spend money, If you see me and 2 face wey we dey for one club for Spain, we dey VIP Section together, Moet just dey flow, Don Perignon just dey flow, Na Ace of Spades I use wash my hand that day. 2Face spend for me, you know say we go Secondary School together.’ After the Jim Iyke vs 2face conversation, they called for another round of drinks. I noticed that one of them seemed to be doing the ordering. With the drinks replenished and Isiewu flowing, the next conversation started. ‘Which Eurpean Country you like pass? ‘ The views started flowing: ‘I no like London at all, Na those Yoruba boys dey control am.’ ‘Me I like Germany pass, dem no get wahala there, I get one Oyinbo girl for there, in fact na she dey spend money for me, she  dey pay me salary make I no leave her.’ ‘Me I don reach all European Countries including America and Canada.’ ‘Which kain nonsense you dey yarn? America and Canada dey Europe?’ ‘Stupid boy, when you no go watch news, na woman you go dey chase up and down, America and Canada don join Europe since tey tey.’

Another round of drinks was ordered by the same person whom we shall refer to as John. John was in his full element and all the food went on his tab. He seemed eager to impress the guests as his table. After we finished our drinks and food, we settled down to listen to the Nigerian music playing in the background.Mama Miliki (Baba Miliki’s wife) came to pack up the plates for washing. After a while, John picked up his phone and spoke in French as he made his way out of the restaurant. He was gone for about a minute before Mama Miliki raised an alarm. John had not settled his bill. She called Baba Miliki to tell him that John had disappeared. She spoke in Yoruba: ‘O tun tin salo niyen o, Oloriburukue tun ti salo.’ Baba Miliki went out and saw that John had almost made his way to the train station. He called out to John to come back.

John showed up angry in the restaurant and wanted to know why he was being embarrassed. Mama Miliki reminded him that all the ‘awoof’ he declared had not been paid for. He was informed that his bill was about 90 Euros. He told Baba Miliki that he would pay the bill the following week. Baba reminded him that he had an outstanding debt of 60 Euros.  He told Baba he was going to pay it all at once. Mama Miliki spoke in Yoruba:* ‘Onigbese, owo la fin ra ounje ti en je nibiyi. Ori igi lo ro pe a ti ka owo yen ni.’* John flared up and told Mama Miliki to stop embarrassing him because ‘the customer is always right‘. I simply couldn’t understand how John, who was handing out free drinks, suddenly turned out to be a debtor of great proportions. Taking a man out of Nigeria is apparently a lot easier than taking Nigeria out of the man. The saying goes, ‘Charity begins at home’. In this case, ‘Charity begins at home but moves abroad’. I can imagine John going back home at Christmas to flaunt his non-existent wealth and cause envy among his friends.

We stepped in to try and resolve the loud argument and get some quiet back into the atmosphere. Afterwards, we settled back to finish the remains of the meal and drinks. As is typical in Nigeria, the calm after the storm makes you forget the storm entirely. King Wasiu Ayinde Marshal’s music came on: ‘Ileku Ayo to ta se bawon ti o, Ilu Canada ni won ti shi‘.

The time was about 10pm. We headed out into the night and found our way back to the 1^st Arrondissement. As we walked down the banks of the Seine we dreamed of a home far away. Eiffel’s lights brightly lit up the night. They flashed as Baba Miliki’s pounded yam settled into our stomachs and the digestive juices kicked in. It was a good night.