Why I am no fan of couscous

My first encounter with couscous was on an Ethiopian Airlines flight from Washington to Addis Ababa. I still don't know why I chose it, perhaps it looked familiar, or maybe I was distracted by the flight attendant. Regardless, my dislike for it isn't solely about the taste. As a Nigerian, I understand that food is often an acquired experience; many of our own delicacies, like ogiri with its pungent aroma, would bewilder outsiders.

My issue with couscous is different. It looks like Jollof rice but tastes nothing like it. Each spoonful feels like a deception. In my opinion, it's a form of culinary trickery. I later learned couscous is a staple and cultural symbol across the Maghreb, particularly in Morocco, Algeria, and Tunisia. Made from semolina granules, it represents a shared tradition binding the region.

Perhaps it's superstition, but couscous now symbolizes North Africa's complicated relationship with the rest of the continent. From afar, North Africa appears African, but its political, cultural, and strategic priorities often seem directed elsewhere. Africa is acknowledged when convenient but seldom embraced as an equal community. This perception is shared by many south of the Sahara and warrants an honest discussion beyond sentimental slogans.

For most of my life, I've believed in the idea of Africa, not due to shared complexion, language, or customs, but because history placed us in a common geographic destiny. Colonial powers partitioned the continent, and we inherited a common map. The sensible response is solidarity, cooperation, and mutual respect. However, solidarity cannot be one-sided. Many sub-Saharan Africans question whether North African governments and societies genuinely see themselves as part of the same African project or if Africa is merely an invoked identity for political convenience.