My Next Door Neighbour is at it again

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I had just seen a friend off and on my way back to the house, l was greeted by an unusual spirit at my gate. For a moment, l was arrested by its powers and it dealt an injury to my nose. For what felt like a friendly injury that got my olfactory glands stood on end, it became obvious that my next door neighbour is terrorising me again with weapons of stew destruction from her kitchen.

I shook my head and with a tinge of mixed feelings on my face,l forced a smiled and climbed up to my room. Mixed feelings because even though l was hungry and food ‘dey call me for my brain’, my neighbour always has a funny way of denying me a taste of her meal or something always comes up to frustrate my long held ambition of eating her food one day. In all sincerity, this desire is fast becoming APC’s Ayariga’s dream of occupying the Flagstaff House.

Here is where it got worse: l opened my door and a force ,greater than Delta Force, took charge of me and l could see and feel the infantry of ingredients marching in my room. Guess who the enemy was? A pot of okro stew almost at a point of delivery in her kitchen had marched up to my room provokingly uninvited in its gaseous state by the evil forces of diffusion.

Wondering how l could tell what she was preparing in the kitchen? I could tell from my over two decades of local and international experience in the kitchen the type of soup or stew being prepared over a kilometre away by its smell. Note, this only happens when the cook is good and not substandard like someone l know who is reading this piece. I haven’t mentioned your name but you know yourself . You are a human being. Truth is l am a good cook. Those who have tasted the handiworks of my cooking prowess are many, testimonies abound across the ten regions of the country and beyond its borders. Haters are saying it’s a lie. ‘Does l care’?

I couldn’t stand the torture , got out of the room and dashed towards her place. She came all smiling when she heard me called her name. “Hey Rooooo, good to see you. Sup with you?.”. I told her how she was infringing on my fundamental human rights and l could invoke Article 20 Clause 17 Section 190 and subsection 1999 of the constitution to protect myself from further abuse of my famished tall self but l hand chosen to come make peace with her. After all, the good book admonishes us to love our neighbour as ourself. Those of you who say l am long should be very careful. I am not long but a tall, fine,slim macho from North Tongu. This one too must you dispute it? With your likes still in Ghana , you think the One District One Factory campaign promise will see the light of day? Smh

There is something about my neighbour’s smile that turns me on. As in,it gives me an excitement that no dictionary can explain. Bad mind, you read “turns me on” and you started thinking funny. Please ,today is Sunday. Let’s drop this topic. Aaah. What’s happening in this country?. Tsoo,kpordawoe me ga do dziku nam siaa( if you don’t understand Ewe, you are on your own).

She offered me another bouquet of smiles and burst out laughing this time round at my protest. She knew what l wanted. In a matter of three minutes,table was set and before me laid in state two hot balls of banku and okro stew served in the presence of my enemies. I had no doubt in my mind that the steam coming off the banku could cause climate change. Someone must inform Donald Trump about some of these things. Look, you can call it Covfefe Banku, the CIA won’t do you any harm.

The okro was fashionably chopped into circular-square and the garden eggs seemed to have sandwiched them into a motionless motion with the red palm oil immersed into their body and spirit in the plate. The onion and garlic were doing their own thing , call it freedom of independence- they had moved into every part of the tuna and chevon and gave them a charming dignity which when eaten can cure AIDS, l swear. At that moment, l noticed l was beside myself with joy. My neighbour will kill me before l die.

Just when l was about washing my hand , l had a call from a church member who had asked when l was going to break the fast for the day and that he had wanted us to eat out this evening and to also have a chat over an issue. Fasting ? Ooh mine. I had forgotten that we were fasting. It escaped me when this terrorist of a neighbour decided to attack me today with her appetizing meal. So here is Efo Koku (you can also call me Prophet Koku if you don’t mind. I am also ‘a children’ of God) watching the food laid in state before him. To eat or not to eat?

God, sometimes l think you should understand these things .

To be continued…

Source: Efo Koku Adzah

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