Please, Bring Back the Old Bread

Am I crashing out? Obviously. Why? I miss bread as I knew it.

Photo by Condé Nast Traveler on Pinterest

Whoever decided that bread needed all these variants and flavours clearly lost the plot.

And whoever decided branded nylons were better than the old transparent ones and paper wraps, I would like to have a word with you.

Am I crashing out? Obviously. Why? I miss bread as I knew it.

Like 99 other Nigerian families, bread was a staple in my home growing up. I am not sure when it became a big deal for me, but I think my visit to High Table Bread at Oke-Itunu in Ibadan might have been the beginning of the romance.

It felt like an excursion. Watching the process from start to finish, then leaving with a freshly baked loaf that I paired with hot moi-moi later that afternoon.

Photo by Celecir on Pinterest

Back then, tailors, long before they became known as fashion designers, had a reputation for forgetting to eat. My mother was no exception.

Bread hawkers would pass by daily, announcing themselves with hot, fluffy loaves, softer than the cheeks of a chubby newborn. I loved being the one sent to pick out the one we would eventually purchase. I would stand there, press it slightly, and choose the best one. It was important.

Might I add, bread then was between twenty and fifty naira.

My mother’s ideal lunch was simple: bread and a bottle of mortuary-standard Pepsi.

On good days, she would tear off a piece for me and pour a little drink into a cup. I would sit there, smiling from ear to ear while watching the bubbles from the drink. If you have never tried that combo, I am sorry for you.

I thought it would always be that way, but then, nothing ever is.

These days, bread feels too different. Too many options, too many changes, too many unnecessary reinventions.

To the makers of Oyo Bread, I hope the modern branding wave never reaches you. Thank you for keeping things the way they should be.

With love,
An old soul.