Chef Dammy after the cook‑a‑thon: fame hit fast. “Social media broke me.”

By: Oluwaseun Lawal

She just wanted to cook. Simple. A student living alone, learning flavors by trial, fire, and a little salt too much. Then 2023 happened. A cook‑a‑thon that wasn’t meant to go this viral. No media plan. No PR. She didn’t even tell her parents; they found out like everyone else—on their phones. One minute quiet, next minute trending. It felt unreal. And a little scary.

The clip made rounds. Comments poured. Some love. Plenty noise. The kind that sits in your chest. She says the online dragging hurt, but what came in real life bit harder. People can be unkind up close. She felt overwhelmed—like the room got smaller. Back then, she would’ve cried telling this story. Now she breathes, says it steady. Still, the line lands heavy: social media broke me. Not forever, but for a while, yes.

It’s strange how fast everything shifts. Strangers know your name. A timeline becomes a courtroom. Opinions becomes stones. She kept asking God for a pause button, just enough time to forget a few things, to quiet the echoes. The storm didn’t listen. But she did what she could—kept moving, even slowly. Healing isn’t neat. It stumbles. It repeats. It also works.

And then, a reset. Early this year she stepped into a classroom again, but different this time—chef whites, sharp knives, a syllabus that smells like stock and butter. Hospitality Business School, Lagos. Full scholarship. A professional culinary arts diploma in view. Structure helps. Mentors too. Practice most of all. The dream gets rebuilt, one careful cut at a time.

The lesson? Spotlight thrills. It also burns. Viral is not always victory; sometimes it’s just velocity. She’s learning to hold both truths—the rush and the wreckage. To take the applause without letting the shadows win. The journey isn’t over. Not even close. But the voice is steadier now, the hands surer. And the kitchen—her kitchen—still feels like home.