Life Is Like Pap
You may want to argue with me, but truly, life is like pap.
Yes. Pap.
For my non-African readers, pap (also known as ogi,  akamu or koko) is a fermented corn meal. Our local, community version of custard. It comes in shades of white, yellow, and red, and can be enriched with ginger, millet, tiger nuts, dates, cloves, and other blessings from the ancestors.
It is simple. Healthy.
And wildly unpredictable.
Anyone who has ever cooked pap knows there are only two ways to make it: the traditional way and the savior way. The savior way is the emergency exit. The plan you resort to when pap decides to disgrace you publicly.
But before pap is prepared either way, there is a universal ritual. A prayer. A plea.
Regardless of age, gender, tribe, or religion, everyone must whisper:
“God, don’t let this pap humble me today.”

Because pap has no respect for confidence.
If you skip that prayer, you are very likely to take a bow of shame. And if you’ve lived long enough, you already know—life behaves the same way.
The moment you decide to make pap, the battle begins.
You step into the kitchen, and suddenly the silence is so loud you can hear your heartbeat. Every spoon clatter feels like a coded message from your village people. You mutter under your breath, “My mother’s creator, please just stand with me.”
The water goes on the stove. The pap paste waits patiently in a bowl.
As the kettle heats up, you realize this is not the time to joke. You start reciting Quranic verses. Biblical scriptures follow. Because when the kettle whistles, only the Creator can save you.
Sswishhhhhhh.
The moment of truth.
With shaky hands, you lift the kettle and pour hot water into the paste. You stir, watching closely.
And then it happens.
The pap refuses to rise.
Just like that—top-tier culinary confidence wiped out in five seconds. And somewhere in the house, your future mother-in-law is breathing.
What a day to be alive.

This is where pap stops being food and starts being philosophy.
In life, we often prepare meticulously. We plan. We calculate. We rehearse outcomes in our heads. Just like measuring the right quantity of water and waiting for the perfect temperature, our decisions are rarely spontaneous.
Naturally, we expect results to follow effort.
More reading hours should mean a better CGPA.
More working hours should mean financial stability.
More exercise should mean a better body.
And often, it does.
But sometimes, despite preparation, discipline, and prayer, the results don’t tally. The pap fails.
When that happens, many of us panic. We internalize the failure and start telling ourselves dangerous stories:
“Maybe I’m not intelligent enough.”
“Maybe I’m destined to be poor.”
“Maybe I’m just not wife material.”
Imagine defining your entire worth by a failing pap.
Here is the truth we often miss: life’s failures are not verdicts; they are feedback. The real problem is not the pap. It is how quickly we allow a single outcome to define who we are.
Because remember: there is still the savior way.
You rush to find a clean pot. You turn on low heat. You pour the defeated pap inside.
Slowly.
Gently.
Patiently.
It begins to rise.
No lumps. No shame. Just redemption.
Your hope rises with it. Your confidence returns. The kitchen suddenly feels like a victory ground. A quiet celebration breaks out.
Hurray.

Many people quit too early. They assume the universe is against them because things didn’t work out the first time. But life is not obligated to reward you on your first attempt.
It is unpredictable. Chaotic. Sometimes unfair.
And it does not revolve around you.
Your responsibility is not to control outcomes but it is to respond wisely to them.
So the real question becomes: quit, or adjust?
Sometimes adjusting means changing your method. Sometimes it means slowing down. Sometimes it means choosing your own savior way instead of insisting on the original plan.
You didn’t give up on the pap and you won beautifully. Life often works the same way.
As someone once said, “In life, there is always a choice to make. Even choosing not to choose is still a choice.” Who you become is shaped not by perfection, but by how you redesign yourself after disappointment.
So whatever choice you make, remember this:
Life will always be like pap.
Unpredictable. But redeemable.