My smallie friend Deola (@deolaaa) wrote this last night. I totally agree with the sentiments expressed therein. I am saddened and angry that, in party packs nationwide, the slices of dodo are steadily reducing. This phenomenon is responsible for rising depression in the land. 😐
But I digress… Enjoy
Like the eyebrows of Eucharia Annuobi, curved.
Like a new born baby, loved.
Like an Igbo girl, yellow.
Yoruba’s call it dodo.
Cool points of meals go higher
When they are ingested with you, the food messiah.
Friend of many, enemy of few.
Enviously, other foods watch you from the pew.
“Fleshy” “Clean” “Thick” “Erect” “Long”
How my plantain looks, not your schlong.
“Raw” “Boiled” “Roasted” “Fried”
How it’s eaten; also diced or sliced.
With vegetable, you go perfectly when boiled.
With groundnut, you look beautiful in your black patches and old newspaper “foil”.
When fried, my beans becomes a memorable experience.
The attention you seek replaced by a delightful ambiance.
I wish your life span was longer.
More than that of leather.
I wish you didn’t get burnt so fast
And have your sweetness replaced by a bitter soot.
Thanks for being there for me.
For all the times I used you as a mic for karaoke.
For those times I ate you raw and you didn’t upset my stomach.
For still being awesome despite being forced to ripen in a dark sack.