I have never liked bean cakes.
I do not like akara .
If you present it to me as a peace offering
I will reject it.
She is dear.
I am walking,
We are talking
“I just bought bread,” I said
“Will it be bread and akara tonight,” she asks.
“No, I don’t eat akara,” I reply.
She was not there but her name was on the phone.
Her hankered voice filled my ear that night.
I was going to see her tomorrow.
In a Toyota Hiace bus.
I am on the road to Akure’s university of technology.
I can attest that
You will bite your tongues and fingers.
At Ile-Ife, what have this people done?
Like their relatives in Ibadan. Only the Good Lord knows the potions and spices they employ.
If you look around and peer into the bus. All here, children and adult are eating bread with akara in a slow and sweetening daze. You won’t find me eating the tasty balls of bean cake with the others.
I am the odd one here. I am tempted this Sunday morning.
Now I may like bean-cakes
Hot tasty ones at that.
If you present it to me
I may reject it.