By Johnson Babalola
As I sat in Akure, happily dismantling a well-molded wrap of iyan (pounded yam) beside a bowl of vegetable soup whose exact name escaped me, I had a near-spiritual experience. The vegetable soup—rich, green, confident—and the catfish swimming proudly inside it made perfect sense together. In my humble opinion, a well-prepared vegetable soup was designed to win hearts. This one didn’t just win my heart; it held me hostage. I smiled throughout the meal, like a man who had seen positive visions.
As I gently washed it down with a cup of room-temperature water (cold water would have been disrespectful), my thoughts drifted to my late grandmother, Yeye. Yeye was a grandmaster of vegetable soups. She cooked efo odu (Black Nightshade), amunututu (Malabar Spinach), worowo (Glossy Nightshade), elegede (pumpkin leaf), tètè (African spinach), èbolo (Thickhead), and many more that didn’t just feed the stomach but healed the soul. I grew up loving, respecting, and trusting vegetables in all their forms.
But as I took the final bit of that soup, a strange sadness came over me—not for myself, but for vegetables.
You see, because of their deliciousness, vegetables have become innocent victims of a cultural smear campaign. In parts of Nigeria—especially among the Yoruba and Igbo—it is common to hear people explain a man’s love, loyalty, gentleness, or respect for his wife with statements like:
“O ti jẹ efo.”(He has eaten vegetables)
Which, loosely translated, means: this man has been spiritually programmed through fetish means.
In other words, vegetables have been accused of witchcraft.
More often than not, this accusation says more about the speaker than the marriage. From personal experience—and from observing others—I’ve learned that those who make such claims are usually driven by envy, jealousy, bitterness, ignorance, or emotional laziness. They cannot imagine love that is peaceful, respectful, or intentional without supernatural interference.
I’ve often wondered: why vegetables?
Why not ila(okra), egusi (melon), or even fruits? Why not banana manipulation or pineapple programming?
My very unscientific conclusion is this: vegetables are universally loved. You’ll meet people who hate okra with passion, who argue violently against melon soup, but it’s rare to meet someone who doesn’t love at least one kind of vegetable. Vegetables are relatable. So when blame is needed, they are convenient.
Truth be told, a bitter ex, a disgruntled child, an unhappy relative, or an envious colleague or friend must blame something when they see a man loving his wife openly. Vegetables, sadly, are the easiest scapegoat.
What many people fail to recognize, however, is that the most powerful “vegetable” responsible for such love is not found in the pot.
It is called Ìwà — character.
And unfortunately, ìwà is not sold in markets or supermarkets. You can’t buy it in baskets, you can’t season it after marriage, and you definitely can’t borrow it for special occasions
Character shows itself daily.
Negative character—those poisonous “vegetables” people pretend not to see—include:
* Abuse (emotional, verbal, physical)
* Anger and uncontrollable rage
* Lies and manipulation
* A sharp, cutting tongue
* Constant insults and public humiliation
* Raining curses on innocent people
* Poor communication and silent treatment
* Pride that refuses accountability
No amount of beauty, prayer, or real vegetable soup can cover these for long.
On the other hand, positive character—the kind that makes love grow effortlessly—looks like:
* Kindness and emotional safety
* Calmness and self-control
* Truthfulness and transparency
* Respectful speech
* Peaceful conflict resolution
* Excellent communication
* Empathy and maturity
* Humility and accountability
Any man or woman—anyone at all —will naturally fall in love with, protect, and nurture a partner who embodies peace, respect, and healthy communication. No fetishism required. No incantations. No secret ingredients.
Before blaming vegetables, perhaps a little self-appraisal is needed. Sometimes, the issue isn’t that someone else ate vegetables—it’s that we refused to cultivate ìwà.
And finally, let us settle this once and for all.
The most important vegetable in any relationship is not efo, tètè, èbolo, or worowo.
It is character.
Or, as the streets might say—with a knowing smile—
the real MVP is “hood character.”
Because without character, even the sweetest soup will eventually taste bitter, no matter how much catfish is inside.
The Yorubas put it best when they say:
“Ìwà ni baba àwúre”— character is the greatest charm, the father of all good fortune.
And truly, this is so.
No fetish, no concoction, no mystical vegetable can compete with good character. When character is right, love flows naturally, peace is sustained, communication is healthy, and affection does not need defending or explaining.
So before accusing vegetables of doing spiritual overtime, perhaps we should all check our gardens and ask:
What kind of character are we cultivating?
Because in the end, the most powerful ingredient is not in the pot –
it is in the person.
_Johnson Babalola is a Canadian lawyer_
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