African Immigrant Shocked to Learn American “African Food” Restaurant Owned by Someone Who’s Never Been to Africa

Menu features “traditional” dishes that would get you deported from actual continent

The Audacity Has Its Own Menu Section

PORTLAND, OR – When Adaeze Okonkwo saw a restaurant called “Mama Afrika Soul Kitchen,” she felt a warm rush of homesickness—until she walked inside and met the owner, Kevin, a 34-year-old from Michigan whose passport has visited exactly zero African countries but who did watch Black Panther twice. “I felt spiritually called to share African culture through cuisine,” Kevin explained while Adaeze visibly aged 15 years. His interpretation of “African cuisine” includes a dish called “Safari Surprise” that’s essentially Chipotle bowls with confusion.

The 33-year-old nurse from Nigeria spent 20 minutes reading a menu that treated Africa like it’s a country, not 54 nations. “They have ‘African Stew,'” she reported in the tone of someone discovering a crime scene. “Which Africa? It’s like opening a restaurant called ‘European Food’ and serving fish and chips with bratwurst and calling it authentic.” The stew contained ingredients she’s never seen on the same plate: couscous (North Africa), jollof rice (West Africa), and injera (East Africa). “This isn’t fusion,” Adaeze said. “This is geography having a nervous breakdown.”

When Pinterest Becomes Your Cultural Consultant

According to Restaurant Business Online, ethnic restaurants owned by people outside that ethnicity have grown 78% since 2020—a trend Adaeze calls “brave” the way you call a bad haircut “interesting.” Kevin’s menu research came from “extensive” internet browsing, one semester of an African History class he dropped, and a profound belief that watching Anthony Bourdain makes you an expert. “I wanted to honor the motherland,” Kevin said earnestly. Adaeze wanted to honor her blood pressure medication.

Ricky Gervais said, “Just because you’re offended doesn’t mean you’re right.” But Adaeze thinks just because you watched a documentary doesn’t mean you should open a restaurant. Kevin’s “traditional” peanut stew contained no peanuts—he’d substituted almond butter because of “modern dietary trends.” When Adaeze mentioned that groundnut stew is literally defined by groundnuts, Kevin nodded thoughtfully and said, “But have you tried it with almonds? It’s more elevated.”

The Decorative Mask That Costs More Than the Village That Made It

The restaurant’s ambiance featured decorative masks Kevin bought from HomeGoods, a map of Africa with three countries labeled, and a Spotify playlist titled “African Vibes” that was mostly Bob Marley—who is Jamaican. “The attention to detail is stunning,” Adaeze said, her eyes meeting the eyes of a mask that definitely wasn’t meant to be in a restaurant. “That’s a ceremonial Yoruba gelede mask. It belongs in a cultural ceremony, not next to your artisanal cocktail list. This is like putting a crucifix in your bathroom.”

Dave Chappelle said, “I’m not a racist. I’m a realist.” Kevin’s not racist either—he’s just confidently wrong in 54 different directions. His server, a white woman named Bethany wearing a dashiki from Amazon, explained that the restaurant “celebrates” African culture. “By mispronouncing every dish name?” Adaeze asked. Bethany smiled nervously and offered her a discount, which is apparently what you do when cultural appropriation makes someone uncomfortable.

The signature cocktail—”The Sahara Sunrise”—contained tequila, mango juice, and something Kevin called “traditional African spices” that were clearly just cayenne pepper and regret. “The Sahara is a desert,” Adaeze noted. “In a desert, there are no sunrises mixed with mango. There’s just sand and consequences.” Kevin loved her “passion” and asked if she’d be interested in being a “cultural consultant.” She declined and considered calling the United Nations.

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The most offensive item wasn’t on the menu—it was the prices. Kevin charged $24 for what he called “Authentic Nigerian Jollof Rice” that contained peas and corn, ingredients that would get you disowned from actual Nigerian families. “We added vegetables for health,” Kevin explained. “Health?” Adaeze repeated slowly. “You’ve whitewashed my childhood. This isn’t jollof rice—this is identity theft with tomatoes.”

Jim Gaffigan said, “I’m not saying I’m lazy, but I married someone who understands.” Kevin’s not saying he’s exploiting culture, but he did trademark “Mama Afrika” despite having no African heritage, relatives, or understanding of which “mama” he’s supposedly honoring. When asked which African country inspired him most, Kevin said “all of them” with the confidence of someone who can’t name five.

The Yelp Reviews Written by People Who’ve Also Never Been to Africa

The restaurant’s Yelp page is a masterpiece of confident ignorance. Five-star reviews include: “Finally, authentic African food in Portland!” (from Stephanie who thinks Morocco is in the Middle East), “The ambiance really transports you!” (to where, Kevin’s imagination?), and Adaeze’s personal favorite: “Kevin really knows his stuff!” (Kevin thought Lagos was in Kenya during their conversation).

Bill Burr said, “I don’t hate anyone, but I strongly dislike a lot of people.” Adaeze doesn’t hate Kevin, but she strongly dislikes his menu, his confidence, his decorative choices, and his conviction that watching a Vice documentary qualified him to represent an entire continent. She especially dislikes his “Serengeti Salad”—because the Serengeti is an ecosystem in Tanzania and Kenya, not a salad base, and also because it contained kale, which is just vegetables being pretentious.

The breaking point came when Kevin asked Adaeze to take a photo with him for Instagram. “For authenticity,” he explained. She declined and instead posted her own review: “This restaurant is what happens when colonization opens a Yelp account. The food isn’t authentic—it’s confidently confused. Kevin hasn’t been to Africa, but somehow Africa has been through Kevin. One star. The star is for the audacity.”

When Your Culture Becomes a Restaurant Theme Park

Kevin’s business partner, Jason, defended the concept: “It’s not appropriation—it’s appreciation!” Adaeze’s response: “Appreciation would be hiring actual African people, consulting actual African chefs, or at minimum, visiting actual Africa. This is appropriation with a liquor license. You’re not sharing culture—you’re selling a fantasy version that makes white people comfortable.”

Amy Schumer said, “I’m not going to apologize for who I am.” Kevin’s not apologizing either—he’s expanding. “Mama Afrika Soul Kitchen” is opening three new locations, none owned by anyone who’s set foot on African soil. The new menu includes “Congo River Sliders” (the Congo River is 2,920 miles long and contains no burgers) and “Kilimanjaro Nachos” (Kilimanjaro is a mountain in Tanzania that has never requested to be associated with cheese).

Adaeze’s final observation while leaving: “In Nigeria, we have a saying: ‘The goat that is destined for the pot will never grow fat.’ Kevin’s restaurant is the goat. The pot is karma. I give it two years before people realize ‘African food’ shouldn’t taste like Cheesecake Factory with ambition.” She then went to an actual African restaurant owned by a woman from Ghana, where the jollof rice contained zero peas, the owner could locate Nigeria on a map, and nobody was wearing their culture as a costume.

When reached for comment, Kevin said he “respects all feedback” and is “always learning.” What he’s learning remains unclear, but it definitely isn’t geography, cultural sensitivity, or the fact that Africa is not a monolithic entity that can be represented by one menu containing food from 12 different countries that have nothing in common except Kevin’s imagination.

SOURCE: Bohiney Magazine (Aisha Muharrar)

DATE: 11/6/2025