The Symbolism of Foods and Drinks in African Romance Novels

 

By Ayomipo Akorede

The first time I heard sex on the beach as the name of a drink, I really didn't think about fruit juice or vodka. My mind was like..oh, really, what on earth birthed that? Then, out of curiosity, I dug and found out that there was more: between the sheets, orgasm, slow comfortable screw, etc. That’s the trick with these drinks. Before the glass even lands on your table, your brain is already on holiday, rolling around in the sand of innuendo. Worse off, some of the ones you hear around here aren't just openly suggestive, they are symbols of the efficacy of such products: Erujeje, Kerewa, Japata, Dadubule, Stamina, Dopa, lol, etc. And the brain laps it up. One part is blushing, another part is curious, and a third is already imagining the story you’ll tell your friends tomorrow. That’s the genius of suggestive names: they feed both appetites at once. You’re sipping alcohol, sure, but you’re also sipping fantasy, daringness, and just a little bit of exuberance. It’s like a free side dish of mischief, you know? 

And that’s exactly what happens in African romance novels, too. Food in these stories doesn’t sit quietly on the table; it teases, whispers, and sometimes screams louder than the characters themselves. In Bolu Babalola’s ''Honey and Spice'', we perceive nothing but temptation. Every time Kiki Banjo, her character, bites into something sweet and interesting--like small acts of kindness from Malakai, the guy she finds attractive but won't admit, late-night talks, shared creative ambition, etc. that gradually chip away at her defences--she wrestles with intense desires of intimacy she can hardly control through thoughts of should I or should I not?

Sifa Asani Gowon goes another route in her ''A Taste of Love'' where the language of love is food. It's well established that when someone cooks for another person, especially something appealing and delicious, there’s a sort of offering of delight, which can lean toward erotic tension when they let their guards down, opening space for attraction. That's what happens when Toby, the boy who runs a lounge, Bar-Rage, successfully wins Adoo Ibi over with his tasty pizza. And when Adoo offers him a piece of cake, it's always with the know-me, eat-me gesture. A very sensual way of showing care, comfort, and pleasure. 

Have you ever had to make an excuse just to be in someone's space before? If you had, then this might explain why you prefer to share a meal and steal glances instead of talking because overt declarations might feel risky or too vulnerable, while bites and sips might be a safer way to flirt. Amara Nicole Okolo in ''Black Sparkle Romance'' presents us with this scenario in a Lagos nightlife through Mira Adure, an assistant editor at a fashion magazine, and Dominic, a photographer whose meeting had been by accident. 

The bottom line is that foods and drinks can mess with our brains in the most delightful ways when used creatively in a story to blur appetite with attraction or turn dinner into desire and dessert into a dare. They can remind us that love isn’t just felt in the heart; it’s tasted on the tongue, swallowed in secret, and savoured bite by bite.