FOOD DIARY
When mama calls
my name in full,
I have sinned
never to enjoy the day’s food,
The fare that
night will be Okra and stew with eba,
She knows I
detest the slimy nature of the green veggie,
But the enticing
yellow mound of this cassava ball calls.
Hoping to escape
the anguish, I opt for stew alone,
It’s like eating raw ball pepper, tatashe and
shonbo,
Picked, ground
and cooked without spices,
With her eyes on
me, I swallow each roll,
Like a prisoner
eating his last dish.
When mama smiles from the kitchen,
No fears - the
aroma of her culinary skill announces,
The arrival of
the famous Nigerian party Jollof rice,
The tomato
spiked rice smiles under the fried crisp chicken,
Garnished with
cucumber, fresh tomatoes and cabbage
Each spoon is
filled with laughter as it reminds us of God,
The art of
creation is manifest before us in food form,
The color of
growth screams cucumber, green peeper, beans and peas.
White cabbage,
Red tomatoes, Yellow sweet corn, Orange carrots,
Different shades
of earth in chicken, dodo and moi-moi form,
A glass of grape
wine supplements a pure glass of water,
Nigerian Jollof
– the meeting point of Heaven and earth.
Don’t know what
creation is?
Enter a Nigerian
mother’s kitchen,
She turns nothing into a
grand meal.
Sandra T. Adeyeye
This poem is extracted from an e-book named A Woman's Pot A Man's Stomach click this link to download a free copy https://bit.ly/2rHJTer
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