Cooking her way out of loneliness
How a homesick teenager turned scarcity into a full cultural practice, one dish, one document, one dance at a time.
"Living on poutine and burgers wouldn't suffice. The bland flavors were hard to bear ā so I started experimenting." Deborah, on arriving as a young immigrant
Deborah didn't set out to become an author, chef, dancer, and cultural custodian all at once. Each role showed up to answer the same problem: the world barely knows the Efik people exist.
She trained as an actress first, then let cooking, research, and dance pull her further into the work of documentation. What looks like reinvention from the outside is really one project, worn in four different outfits.
Her own words put it plainly: nobody sees where she's going next, because there's always something new. But underneath the range is a single, unhurried mission ā put Calabar's culture somewhere it can't be overlooked.
She hasn't solved it yet. But more people are tasting Efik food, more children are opening her book, and more dancers are learning the Ekombi. The word "minority" is losing its grip on the Efik story, one introduction at a time.
