A Chin-Chin Expedition

In the second week of December 2022, I started to crave chin-chin. 

Like any other craving, I waited for it to pass. By the third week the craving was so strong that I considered making them myself. It was quite odd, as chin-chin was never my favourite snack growing up. Give me overripe plantain chips- soft, dark, and spicy.

I decided to go hunting for the snack one day during my lunch break from my remote job. The easy way would have been to drive to the African stores I was familiar with and purchase a jar of chin chin (which I was guaranteed to find) but I’d  just moved to a different quadrant of the city and I didn’t want to spend a huge portion of my work break time driving a long distance to search for, of all things, chin chin.

After perusing Google maps, I found a couple of nearby african food stores to check. Hunching my shoulders against the bitter cold, I got into my preheated Hyundai and drove 4 minutes to one store, singing along with Sinatra as he crooned,  ‘Love-ly, never-ever-change…’

The first place turned out locked- which was ironic because the sign read ‘open’. I knocked a couple of times, looking through the glass and young man came walking hastily from the back to open the door. 

‘Sorry! I was attending to some delivery guys’
‘It’s okay’ I responded kindly. ‘Do you have chin chin’
‘Chin chin? What’s that?’
‘It’s a snack. Where is your snack section?’

After perusing the few aisles briefly it was evident that the store didn’t carry what I was looking for. I spotted some packs of overripe spicy plantain chips and I picked one up. 

‘I’ll just pay for this, thank you’ 

At the till I got a closer look at the young man’s face.

‘Wait…I know you. We met before, right?’
He looked up a bit shyly, ‘Yes’
‘I remember your name… don’t tell me’ I ransacked my memory. ‘Jibril?’
‘That’s right’, he said, smiling.

Some months ago while I was taking swimming lessons at a recreational facility owned by the city, I met Jibril. He was nice enough to help take a couple of videos of me practicing my new skills.

‘How have you been?’
‘Good! How are you?’
‘Good thank you. Is this your family store?’
‘Yes it is’

By now he had rung up the purchase in the register. He attempted to print out a receipt, but he couldn’t navigate the buttons and settings on the system.

‘Don’t worry, it’s okay. It was great to meet you- all the best’
‘Take care!’

Determined to find what I set out looking for, I decided to check a second location 5 minutes away. I called them first this time, and they confirmed they had the product in stock. I started my vehicle and drove off, as Sinatra began sing of Luck’s unladylike behavior. 

The second store was much smaller but well stocked. There were 3 women in the store. I greeted the woman at the single front register. 
‘Good morning’
‘Good morning!’ She responded, then paused, like she was waiting for me to state my purpose
‘Do you have smoked turkey?'
'Yes', she smiled and pointed towards a fridge door. I picked up a pack of smoked Turkey thighs.
‘Thank you. I’m just going to look around if you don’t mind’
The woman called up a second younger woman to stand in front, then she went towards the back. A quick glance at the room at the back showed her braiding someone’s hair in cornrows.
 
After a trip round the store I had multiple food items I’d been hoping to purchase, as well as the chin chin I came for. The first woman came out from the back again.
‘Where are you from? I asked
"I’m Nigerian"
"I’m Nigerian too!"
"What is your name?"
"Seun. What is your name?"
"Bolaji. You are Yoruba too."
"Yes I am! Nice to meet you", I said. 
I smiled at the younger lady at the register and asked her
"What is your name?"
"My name is Janet"
"It's great to meet you, Janet"
"Are you new to Edmonton?"
"No- but I’m new to the area"
‘Welcome! Please come often’, she said come like ‘cam’ the way Ghanaians did. 
I smiled, "I will try my best. Are you Ghanaian?"
‘Yes’ she confirmed

In that moment, I felt saudade, like we were characters in a scene from a Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie novel I read long ago, actors on an invisible stage. We were African women living in the diaspora, united by our needs, our experiences, meeting one another in ordinary yet meaningful ways.

I paid for the purchase, and bidding the ladies goodbye, headed towards my car, armed with just enough chin chin to keep the cravings at bay till next time.