My Immigrant Story

Me and my family went to stay at my uncle’s house in Abidjan, Ivory Coast for a few days from the remaining time we had staying in Africa. When we first arrived at my uncle’s home it was a big house with orange chairs planted in front of the green door that had a black design on top of the doorway with a spiral made of white and green marble implanted on the gray and dark red stone fence. Long green bushes with small palm trees stood in front of the fence with grass surrounding it. We went into the house through the modern styled door in the garage. As I first stepped into the house I was blown away with the smell of fresh air. The house was so big and luxurious it was filled with neutral colors of marble, the lighting was illuminating the white tiles on the floor like I was walking down a runway. Me and my family went to our room and settled in when dinner time came. 

For dinner, my family sat around a large circular table. In the middle of the table, there was a plate of tiny pieces of dark brown meat, which we called dibi. I scooped some onto my plate. As soon as I bit into it, the savory and salty flavor spread in my mouth. The meat felt juicy and tender as it melted in my mouth. The smell and taste of the dibi gave me a nostalgic feeling of mommy’s cooking. My family and I continued eating as my cousins came along and at a separate dining table next to us. As they were about to start eating they were racing with each other on who would get the most amount of food on their plate, they had dibi too but with salad. After they filled their plates full they began to dig in the food as I heard their chewing of the dibi and the crushing of the lettuce. I was in shock when I was watching them enjoy the meal and eating like there was no tomorrow, and how they didn’t seem to be choosy about the food that they wanted  and just ate it, finishing everything on their plate. This made me think back to when I was eating back out how I would remove certain pieces of food that didn’t seem right to the delicious food. My cousins’ enjoyment and excitement that they had on their face while eating made me want to start being less picky. I turned around to take a sip of my water as the coldness infused in the water sent chills through my body, then placed down the glass of water on the table. Then I picked up a small piece of dibi, there was like this gooey substance that surrounded its side. My first thought was to remove it so I can continue to enjoy the juicy tender dibi. Later I thought back to how my cousins were enjoying the food. I proceeded to take a bite of dibi and as I started to chewy it felt weird at first but it didn’t mess up the salty, savory taste of the dibi. A smile came across my face as I appreciated the food that came from my parents’ country.