Akabanga Chile Oil Is Rwanda’s Best-Kept Secret
Just a few drops of this smoky, red-hot Rwandan sauce animates most anything
In Season 2, Episode 5 of Taste the Nation, Padma Lakshmi shares suya-spiced meat with actor Yvonne Orji and laughs as she says, “It’s so spicy, my scalp is itching!” As someone who regularly dabbles in borderline reckless levels of spice, I felt a flash of envy: I’d never encountered anything hot enough to tingle my hair follicles. That was until I tried Akabanga chile oil, a Rwandan staple.
This summer, my friend Malaika gifted me a pocket-sized bottle of Akabanga as a souvenir from her trip to Rwanda. Until that point, my pantry included Japanese Rayu, a mild chile oil made with paprika and Sansho peppercorns; “xtra-spicy” Sichuan chile oil; a tarka-inspired South Asian chile crisp; and, of course, classic Lao Gan Ma. Rwandan chile oil had somehow eluded me.
The fluorescent-orange oil came in an eye-dropper container and seemed innocuous enough. But I quickly regretted my decision to dip my grilled cheese in a quarter-sized puddle: this stuff was industrial-strength. I felt my face heat up and my scalp tickle.
Akabanga, which loosely translates to “secret” in Kinyarwanda, is as fun to eat as it is to say. It’s a popular branded version of urusenda, the habanero and African bird’s eye chile-infused oil commonly found in sub-Saharan homes and restaurants. At first bite, the chile oil is decidedly meaty, reminiscent of steak or mushrooms. Then, dizzying levels of heat coat the palate, buoyed by a slight savoriness. Unlike most hot sauces, though, its spice doesn’t linger, which keeps you going back for more.
Rwandan street food vendor and Akabanga creator Sina Gerard reportedly made his urusenda in the early 1980s using African bird’s eye chilies, also known as peri peri peppers, to pair with the mandozi, or savory dough fritters that he sold from a street cart. His recipe included 80 percent pure chile extract and 20 percent vegetable oil. What the condiment lacked in texture (you wouldn’t find any fried garlic chunks or flakes of chile here), it compensated with smokiness, rich umami flavor, and serious heat. It didn’t take long for Gerard’s chile oil to become so popular that he began bottling and selling the condiment, which subsequently made him a millionaire and the author of two motivational books.
“Growing up, most households made their own version of urusenda, so packaged spices weren’t common for us,” says Denver-based chef Vasta Muhimpundu. “Most Rwandans made their urusenda at home.” Still, Akabanga’s convenience was undeniable. Rwandans began using “urusenda” and “Akabanga” interchangeably, much like Americans do with “Tupperware” and “Kleenex.” It’s now common for Nigerians, including rapper Burna Boy, to carry tiny bottles of Akabanga wherever they go. But if every Rwandan knows about the chile oil, is it really a secret? Outside of Africa, it seems so.
“Akabanga is to Rwandan cuisine what ketchup is to American cuisine,” says the Cape Town-based food educator and recipe developer Jane Nshuti. For her, Akabanga evokes “national pride and cultural heritage,” something she felt so strongly that she planned to make homemade Akabanga as party favors for guests at her wedding. Nshuti uses Akabanga for everything from a dipping sauce for samosas and chapatis to bases for bean curries and greens.
For Muhimpundu, though, Akabanga is strictly a finishing oil. “You can cook with it, but if you do, you’ll lose much of its aroma and be left mainly with the heat,” she says. To preserve its full flavor, she drizzles it at the end. Muhimpundu also makes preservative-free versions of the chile oil with additional spices like rosemary, thyme, and habaneros.
Dylan Keenan, who owns Heat Hot Sauce Shop in the San Francisco Bay Area with his wife, Rebecca Gibbons, first imported Akabanga in 2015 after a customer requested it and says he has noticed an uptick in the demand for it in recent years. “I eat a lot of hot sauce but Akabanga particularly comes in handy when I’m looking for something without any vinegar,” Keenan says. He finds that Akabanga differs from American-style hot sauces and Chinese-style chile oils in its simplicity. “It’s the hottest chile oil we sell,” he adds.
Akabanga’s warmth also lends itself well to South Asian dishes, such as daals, and works well with soups like pumpkin, minestrone, tomato-feta, and pasta e fagioli. Its meatiness shines in shepherd’s pies, braised short ribs, and hearty stews. Only two to three drops are needed to give a grown-up edge to my boxed mac and cheese. I’ve added a drop to homemade cranberry chutney, breakfast sandwiches, and roast vegetables and have also whisked it into yogurt for marinades and cream cheese for bagels.
“I catch the distinct aroma of Akabanga and I’m instantly enveloped in the comforting embrace of home,” Nshuti says. “The mere scent of it unleashes a flood of memories: my brother’s cooking and laughter-filled meals.”
Mehr Singh is a food and culture reporter based in New York. Her work appears in Bon Appétit, Food52, and other publications.
