It had only been two weeks since he landed in Australia, and already, he was invited to his first Aussie barbecue. His new friend, Nathan, had offered him a ride to the event, and James, eager to make new friends, gladly accepted.

“This is how we do it in Australia, mate,” Nathan had said, grinning. “Everyone comes together, has a few beers, throws some snags (sausages) on the grill. It’s chill.”

James had imagined it to be similar to a “suya” party back home — crowded, loud, and plenty of laughter. But when they arrived, the backyard was quiet. A few people were seated on loungers, some with their feet up, sipping on cans of beer. The barbecue was set up, but there was no shouting, no hustle.

Where was the energy? Where was the hustle of Lagos? No “Oya, bring pepper, bring onions, let’s chop!”

“James, you good?” Nathan asked, noticing his confusion. “Mate, it’s real relaxed here.”

“I’m good… just wondering where the noise dey,” James joked, trying to make sense of the situation.

“Ahh, you’ll get used to it, mate. Just grab a drink and a seat.”

James did just that. He grabbed a beer — or what Australians call “a cold one” — and took a seat. The cool breeze was nice, and the air felt different from Lagos, fresh but with a hint of eucalyptus.

But then came the real shock.

Nathan handed him a piece of bread with something spread on it. James raised an eyebrow. The bread looked like a small slice of white, thick bread — almost like the kind used for sandwiches in Nigeria. But the spread? It was dark, like tar. The texture was thick, sticky, and… odd.

“Try it. It’s Vegemite. You’ll love it,” Nathan encouraged with a smile.

James stared at the bread for a good minute. He’d heard of Vegemite, of course, but he never thought he’d encounter it this soon.

He took a cautious bite, praying to God it wasn’t something weird like coconut chutney (which he hated).

A flood of salt hit his mouth.

“WHAT IS THIS?!” James thought, struggling to swallow. His face contorted, trying to process the taste. It wasn’t sour, it wasn’t sweet. It wasn’t anything he could recognize from his years of Nigerian cuisine. It was… salty beyond belief.

“Mate, you okay?” Nathan asked, trying to hide his amusement.

James, trying to keep it together, smiled weakly. “Ah, I’m fine. Just… just need to finish this one more bite.”

Another bite. Another wave of salt.

James thought, “This is not food. This is some science experiment gone wrong!”

Finally, he put the sandwich down. “Ah, no. I think I’ll stick with the sausages,” he said, offering a smile to cover his confusion.

Nathan laughed. “Mate, it’s an acquired taste. Don’t worry. Most people hate it the first time.”

Later, as the evening wore on, James found himself chatting with some other people at the barbecue. They were all friendly, but as the night progressed, he couldn’t help but notice how different everything felt.

Everyone spoke softly, even when laughing. No one raised their voice, no one tried to grab attention. There were no loud exclamations, no “Naija” flex. It was strange — but oddly comforting.

The sausages on the grill were good, though. Better than he’d expected. But that Vegemite experience would be forever etched in his mind.

As they said their goodbyes, Nathan handed James a cold can of soft drink and patted him on the back. “Mate, you’ll get used to this whole Aussie thing.”

James smiled. “One day, one day…”

As he stepped out of Nathan’s car, the quiet of Australia still felt strange. It wasn’t bad, just… different. The pace, the manners, the flavors.

He didn’t know if he’d ever truly love Vegemite, but he knew one thing for sure: Australia had a way of making things feel comfortable — even when they didn’t quite taste like home.