Taste of the buka

ABUJA, Nigeria—Alhaja Bola’s restaurant blends in with other shops on an unpaved street in the Durumi district of Abuja. Long, thin timbers hold up the structure, covered by corrugated iron sheets and thick polyethylene fabrics. The smell of a variety of traditional soups hangs in the air, and the firewood in the adjoined kitchen keeps the makeshift restaurant warm. It’s lunchtime, and several cars line up outside.

More than 15 people sit around plastic tables covered with red Coca-Cola tablecloths. A gray basin rests under each table for customers to wash their hands before eating any of the traditional meals the right way—with their hands.

Dressed in a white long-sleeve shirt and striped tie, Daniel Chukwuma represents the corporate Nigerian. He works at a premium pension company in a different part of town but drives to the restaurant for lunch each day during the workweek with three of his colleagues. This time, he enjoys a plate of pounded yam and vegetable soup.

“He’s a shareholder,” Ibrahim, one of Chukwuma’s colleagues, teases while enjoying a similar meal with a chilled soda.

Alhaja Bola’s place is one of many traditional restaurants—popularly called bukas—around Abuja. These bukas can be found anywhere, from car parks to office areas. But Nigeria’s capital also is home to a growing market of cross-continental restaurants and international food chains like Domino’s Pizza, Tutti Frutti, and KFC. Many Nigerians believe these new restaurants pose no threat to the bukas and consider them instead as a separate market.

The dark soot covering the 3-foot brick fence in Bola’s kitchen tells of years of wood-fired cooking. Several pots of soup rest on cooking stands, and a pounding mortar is built into the cement floor.

“The one [thing] we cook here is local food, that’s why people like it,” said Shukura Kehinde, Bola’s daughter. “Customers come and say, I hope you’re not using gas.”

As Chukwuma finished his meal, he explained he continues to return to the buka for the same traditional flavor Kehinde mentioned.

“All the fast foods taste virtually the same,” Chukwuma said. “Since we’re not married, this is like a second mother.”

Abuja’s Wuse 2 district is the hub of several restaurants and businesses. Two- and three-story buildings line the crowded two-way street, cars parked on each side. Tutti Frutti’s first Abuja branch opened in 2013 and stands next to KFC. Since then, the frozen yogurt shop opened a second branch in Abuja’s Gwarimpa town, said Ljiljana Zivkovic, the shop’s manager. The store resembles any Tutti Frutti in the United States with the green and orange chairs and the yogurt posters hanging on the walls. But here, Tutti Frutti runs a weekly calendar of flavors that alternate each day.

Faithful Ohinni, a civil engineer, has a client in the area and often stops for some yogurt. This time, he brought a friend along. The new restaurants around Abuja appeal to a different group, Ohinni said. “It’s a different market. This is more for the younger generation, compared to the older people who prefer bukas.”

In some cases, a different market also means different prices. Tulip Bistro, a high-end restaurant in Wuse 2, boasts a menu that offers Italian and Mexican meal choices, among others. The classy restaurant is more organized than a buka, with the aligned wooden furniture, dangling lights, and a few hosts clad in black shirts and red ties waiting to usher in arriving guests. But here, a bowl of breakfast oatmeal costs 1,500 naira (roughly $5.25), and a serving of salmon and mashed potatoes costs 7,000 naira ($25).

“Not everyone can come to Tulip and eat here,” said Emeka Ekwebelem, the restaurant’s manager. (One dollar is currently equal to about 280 naira. The gross domestic product in Nigeria per capita was $1,092 in 2014.)

Across the street, Emmanuel Bishop sits on a plastic chair at another buka, Mama Rich Delicacies. He washes his hands in a silver bowl on the table, says a prayer over his meal, and starts to eat the pounded yam and egusi soup, which is made from melon seed. The meal and a baggie of water costs 300 naira. At Tutti Frutti, an ounce of frozen yogurt costs 500 naira. Bishop says he eats his lunch here not just because the food is good, but also because it’s affordable.

“There’s this saying: You cut your coat according to your cloth,” Bishop said. “So when you earn high, you look for places to spend your money.”