Skin, fire and smoke

The story of Nigeria’s love of tender cow Skin and some of the men feeding off this demand At Kaduna’s Bakin Dogo market, our correspondent finds out the challenges the makers of the popular delicacy, ‘ganda’, ‘(kpomo)’ go through to feed the appetite of Nigerians for the controversial delicacy. Cow skin over the years has […]

• The story of Nigeria’s love of tender cow
• Skin and some of the men feeding off this demand

At Kaduna’s Bakin Dogo market, our correspondent finds out the challenges the makers of the popular delicacy, ‘ganda’, ‘(kpomo)’ go through to feed the appetite of Nigerians for the controversial delicacy.

Cow skin over the years has found its way into the cuisine of most Nigerians as a tasty delicacy.

The delicacy known as kpomo or ganda, in Yoruba and Hausa dialects respectively, is said to have no nutritional value to the human body but yet it is being consumed in large quantities, rather than being used as leather.

In a quest to find why the appetite for cow skin is increasing, a BBC report identified high cost of beef as a possible cause, though people who can easily afford beef, often choose to go for ganda.

Cow skin, when dried or tanned, can be processed into shoes, belt and other leather products. In 2014, rumours surfaced of plans by government to stop its consumption to increase the export of hide and skin. That eventually did not happen.

Inevitably, the process of producing leather from animal skin and ganda, from the same source vary.

For ganda, the process starts with burning off the hair on the skin. This is mostly done over open flames. Alternatively, the skin is steamed, a process that tenderise it and make the hair easy to be scrapped off.

When Daily Trust visited the Yan Ganda section at Bakin Dogo market in Kaduna metropolis, thick, dark smoke could be seen from afar, rising into the sky.

The grounds where the processing has been taking place for decades is sticky, with layers of dirt and animal waste mixed with ashe and sooth, which has blacked almost everything in sight.

The eight open flames at the plant where the skin is treated are fuelled by firewood and bamboo sticks. The skin is placed on wrought iron frames over the flames to roast.

All around, 10 aluminium pots, used for cooking and tenderising the skin are scattered.

The fire is manned by two persons, armed with long sticks, which they use in prodding and rolling the skin to ensure no part is left untouched by the flames. Besides them, there is a keg of water to douse overzealous fire from doing much harm to the skin.

Despite the intensity of the fire, the workers have no protective gear to keep them from both the fire and its smoke.

“I have been doing this work since childhood” said 28-year-old, Abdullahi Mahmud.

Abdullahi chose to go into the business full time because after finishing his secondary school, he could not further his education. It was easy because the business has been running in the family.

“My father and grandfather have been in the business and in my family, when a child is old enough to know his left from right, he will be asked to join the business,” he said.

The skin is sourced from abattoirs in the city as well as small hamlet around Kaduna city on daily basis. Abdullahi and the others have formed years of partnership with dealers, who bring the skins to them at the market.

“When the skin is brought, it is cut into desired sizes and given to those who will roast it, which is their only job. They do not cut the skin if not for roasting,” he said.

“The cut depends on the size of the skin so the biggest skin can fetch from 10 to 12 pieces, while a small skin can be cut into seven or eight. However, if it is going to be cut into smaller parts to be displayed on tables for immediate sale, there is also a way to cut it,” he said.

After the skin is processed, they pass them on to some boys to wash them with iron sponges, to clean out the blackness and make them look fresh.

Years of enduring the heat and inhaling smoke from the processing has had its toll on Abdullahi, even if he says it is “part of him” now.

“There was a day I had difficulty sleeping due to the smoke. I felt pain in my eyes and nose and it resulted in a headache,” he said. “Since then I have not encountered any problem. Though, sometimes the work proves difficult but as time passes, I enjoy it. When I hold hot things, I do not feel much hurt. It hurts not that it does not, I just get used to it.”

“If you are a visitor that is when you complain of the intensity of the fire. For us, expert in the field we have adapted to the difficulties associated with it. It has become a way of life and a livelihood, without the fire, we cannot make a living,” he said.

Fire is the most important part of their work, it is also the most challenging, economically. Rise in the prise of firewood is eating into their profit margins.

“The price of wood is rising. Those doing the roasting do complain that they do not get much profit after the cost of wood is deducted. So if we can get an alternative, like electric stove, it will make it easier, less costly for us to work.”

Still, Abdullahi is grateful for what he has been able to achieve through his trade. He has been able to support his parents financially. For him, at his age, that is an accomplishment.

“Anytime I notice they are in need, I will try my best to get it. I have been able to get married and sustain my family with the little I get from here,” he said.

For Salisu Umar, who has been in the business for the past 20 years, the work conditions are something he could live with as breathing in the smoke has put bread on his table.

“There is no job in the world without its challenges. Nothing comes easy but with patience and perseverance, one will prosper. So, when you work hard and have the conviction of success you will get there,” he said.

After passing from the flames to the pots, the finished product is shipped to a section of the market with haphazardly arranged tables, on which the ganda is displayed to attract interested buyers.

Ashiru Yusuf, 20, depends on the work the likes of Abdullahi and Salisu do as he sells ganda during the evening rush hour. His gain, he said, is significant because people require ganda to accompany their evening meals.

For now, despite threats of a government ban, Nigerians seem intent to continue feasting on their soft, soft ganda. For the likes of Abdullahi, Salisu and Ashiru, that means everything.