The short process of making Gob3.

In much of Ghana, particularly around the country’s numerous university campuses and busy towns, Gob3 has become more than just a plate of food. It’s beans and gari, occasionally served with fried plantains, boiled egg or a spoonful of red oil. It’s cheap, it’s filling, satisfying and most importantly it’s easy to find. To younger people, particularly students out to make their cedis go a little bit further, on some days Gob3 is like the only intelligent choice.

The name Gob3 is derived from the way the locals call gari and beans informally. And even if it is simple, I believe it says a lot. Some purchase it from the same woman every week, standing in line, gossiping with strangers. The rest of them eat it in plastic bowls, on wooden benches outside roadside stalls, just before lectures or work shifts.

There’s a kind of food that doesn’t bullshit. You can be sure of what you’re getting. There’s no hype. But there’s nutrients in that. There’s also a certain kind of quiet pride, pride in the knowledge that you are surviving, and keeping full, but also that you can still eat something that tastes good. Some say the beans help you feel more full, which is important if you’re skipping meals or saving up. Ever so often, though, Gob3 feels like a product of the times. The price of everything goes up, but Gob3 is still almost the same, although recently when cedis messed up, it affected even Gob3. It’s not exactly glamorous, but it's the most convenient full meal in the country. And for many young people in Ghana, that’s what makes it feel more like a thing than just a food, it’s a part of the daily culture.