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No roses, No thorns – Breakfast in peace

The gari was ‘soaked’, I left it on the rooftop for the sun to work its aggrandizing magic. 15 minutes went by quickly, I pulled out my inflated and hardened gari from under the 100% natural solar powered oven. I pulled out my plastic plate which had traces of ‘shito’ sprinkled onto it. That was my all. ”Gari eba” with sprinkled “shito”, breakfast was served! Wait, something was missing. Yes, I remembered, my usual white wine!

I left the food uncovered in the large compound house, walked to the other side of the compound with a plastic cup in hand to fetch my white wine from the tap that was connected to the wall. I took a sip of my white wine, it had no distinct taste, colourless and odourless as usual. Some call this an exquisitely distilled wine of utmost value “tap water” but I don’t fancy that term. I prefer to think of it as white wine as it ameliorates the reality of my boisterous poverty.

Feeling like the proper pauper prince I am, I turned in magnanimity to take a majestic stroll back to my dining area in the compound. I had been set up. The two notorious cats in my compound had licked my plastic plate of shito clean. As if no more insult could be added to injury, there stood the soldier fowls pecking holes into my intricately baked ‘eba’. I stood in utter shock at their insensitivity to my penury and pauper -hood. After a few moments of belly-disturbing shock, I came back to my senses, I run to rescue the remains of what the fowls were zealously plundering. One fowl who had a red Mohawk comb on seeing the spate at which I was approaching, executed the vilest of attacks. The insolent fowl with the red bandana kicked the bowl of ‘eba’ to the naked sandy floor. The ultimate onslaught.

I knelt at the remains of what should have been my breakfast. My belly shrieked a cry of both hunger and pain. My eyes sunk, could this be the last straw that could break the camel’s back? This domestic animal union’s betrayal to me was enough for me to contemplate the rope. But a part of me believed in hope. A part of me knew how to fight and press on in hope of a better tomorrow where gari would be replaced by a hefty thigh of chicken.

In my mind’s eye, I could envision a future where bread could be eaten with egg without the interruption of the domestic rebels. I could envision a future where food could satisfy. I could envision a future where the belly would not revolt at night due to low salaries. A future where food would so abound in my house, that the mice in my room would make a citation frame in my honour. I have hope, despite the fiasco attempt at a breakfast. I have hope.



Article by Derrick Korletey, a siro360 contributor

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