“I Just Dey Cook”: A Viral Nigerian Exchange That Turned Plates, Drinks, and Online Banter Into a Cultural Moment

What started as a casual social media post quickly snowballed into one of those uniquely Nigerian online moments that blend humor, social commentary, and subtle class conversation, reminding everyone why Nigerian social media remains one of the most vibrant digital spaces in the world. The exchange, sparked by a post credited to Tunde, known on X as @OTUNBA_TIZ, instantly caught attention with its playful sarcasm and familiar tone. “On today’s episode of ‘Since I bought these plates and cutlery…I just dey cook,’” the post read, accompanied by images that suggested an abundance of food, drinks, and a certain quiet enjoyment of life.

Almost immediately, reactions began to pour in, with users dissecting not just the content of the post but the unspoken message behind it. Among the responses that stood out was a comment from Basil Peret, known online as Senior man @Olasukho, who appeared genuinely stunned. “You mean all these drinks dey Nigeria?” he asked, a simple line that struck a chord with thousands of Nigerians both at home and abroad. In that brief sentence lay humor, disbelief, and a deeper commentary on perception, access, and the evolving realities of life in Nigeria.

The phrase “I just dey cook,” delivered in casual Nigerian Pidgin, is more than a literal statement about preparing food. In the context of Nigerian online culture, it is a humble brag, a soft flex, a way of saying life is good without shouting. It suggests calm enjoyment, financial comfort, and self-sufficiency, all wrapped in humor that avoids outright arrogance. By tying it to plates and cutlery, Tunde tapped into a familiar social media trope where people subtly showcase lifestyle upgrades, not by announcing wealth but by letting everyday objects do the talking.

What elevated the post beyond a routine lifestyle flex was the reaction it triggered. Basil’s question about the drinks being available in Nigeria opened a floodgate of responses from users who saw their own experiences reflected in the exchange. For Nigerians in the diaspora, especially those who left the country years ago, there is often a lingering image of scarcity, limited options, and a market far behind what exists abroad. For those on ground, however, the reality has shifted. Supermarkets now stock a wide range of imported beverages, wines, spirits, and soft drinks that rival selections in major global cities, albeit often at premium prices.

The humor of the exchange lay in how casually it exposed this disconnect. Basil’s disbelief was not framed as an insult but as a genuine expression of surprise, something many Nigerians abroad privately feel when they see modern apartments, gourmet meals, or stocked bars posted by friends back home. The replies that followed were filled with laughter emojis, playful mockery, and matter-of-fact explanations that yes, Nigeria does indeed have these things, and more.

As the post circulated, it became clear that the conversation was not really about plates, cutlery, or drinks. It was about perception. It highlighted how narratives about Nigeria often lag behind reality, frozen in time by outdated media portrayals or personal memories of harder periods. While the country still faces undeniable economic challenges, insecurity, and inflation, there is also a growing consumer class, expanding urban culture, and increasing access to global goods, especially in major cities like Lagos, Abuja, and Port Harcourt.

The exchange also tapped into Nigeria’s love for banter. The phrase “I just dey cook” has become a kind of online shorthand for minding one’s business while quietly enjoying life. It is often used to deflect envy or criticism, signaling that one is not competing with anyone. In this case, it served as a comedic anchor that kept the conversation light, even as it brushed against sensitive topics like wealth inequality and access.

Many users reposted the exchange with their own commentary, some joking that Nigeria has everything except stable electricity, others pointing out that while the drinks exist, affordability remains another conversation entirely. Some diaspora Nigerians admitted that seeing such posts sometimes gives them culture shock, forcing them to reassess assumptions about home. Others on ground used the moment to poke fun at friends abroad who still imagine Nigeria as it was decades ago.

What made the moment particularly Nigerian was how effortlessly it blended Pidgin, humor, and social insight. Without a long thread or heated argument, the exchange captured a snapshot of modern Nigerian life and the conversations that shape it online. It showed how a single line, casually typed, can spark discussions about identity, progress, and the evolving face of the country.

Influencers and casual users alike jumped on the trend, posting their own versions of “I just dey cook,” sometimes featuring home-cooked meals, sometimes showcasing new purchases, and sometimes simply using the phrase as a meme. The original post became a reference point, a shared joke that people could instantly recognize and adapt.

In a digital space often dominated by heavy news, political arguments, and economic anxiety, moments like this offer relief. They remind users of the joy of shared humor and the power of everyday storytelling. They also underscore how social media has become a space where Nigerians constantly renegotiate how they see themselves and how they are seen by others.

By the end of the day, what lingered was not outrage or controversy, but laughter and reflection. The plates and cutlery became symbols of quiet progress, the drinks a metaphor for changing realities, and the simple phrase “I just dey cook” a reminder that sometimes, the most powerful statements are the ones made without trying too hard.

In the fast-moving world of Nigerian social media, trends come and go, but certain moments stick because they feel authentic. This exchange did exactly that. It captured a mood, sparked a conversation, and left users smiling, all while asking a simple, almost innocent question that echoed far beyond the screen: are we really seeing Nigeria as it is today, or as we remember it to be?