When I eat Banga soup with pounded yam;
When Mama appears from the market
With her palm fruit-filled basket
How cleverly she prepares the chicken
And chops up the pumpkin leaves
As she washes to cook the palm nuts,
I make ready the cooking pots;
She boils them till they’re done
And their hardness be gone
I help do the pounding
Making oily pulp, while the chicken is cooking
The oil, from the pulp, in the mortar
She extracts with warm water
She sieve it
So the fruit fibres will not infiltrate;
It is the oil that Mama will use
In making Banga stew!
The fruit oil, she will cook
With the burner at high heat
Then add chicken, salt, stock and dry fish;
With Knorr, onion, pepper and crayfish
The pumpkin leaves – in tiny pieces
She adds. The soup is done in few minutes
With the pounded yam, already made by me;
The food is the ready!
With watering mouth
And a yearning stomach
My jaws and hands
Await the moment to attack
Written by: Kingsley U. Ayistar
Edited by: Kukogho Iruesiri Samson
