Knife actions, fire burning, Oil creaking,
some potatoes ran naked in strands
into a pool of hot groundnut oil.
The sound was like a choir chorus to our ears,
the Aroma was sweetness itself
so our throat started to gulp
and our salivary gland started to bed wet.
Knife actions, fire burning, water bubbling,
a chicken devoted it life to worship our throats;
Shed off its feathers,
rode through a mixture of spices,
swam through a pot of hot oil
then took a rest on the surface of a white unbreakable plate
placed at the heart of our dinning table.
“Oh God! Let this food pose as a blessed one.”
This was our prayer point
before we became the cannibals that munched on our chicken and chips