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Haiku – Love for Abacha

Pride of delicacy
Yellow stained with palm oil
Thin, long and whitish.

Africans run after-
-it, from age long, to Africa
Of nowadays too.

Our bloods don’t fade
Our culture and tradition
Is our heritage.

Before noodles era
Quick food came from
Cassava tubers.

Of which Abacha is
Something I can’t explain
Let store story tell.

It’s our grocery
You may not find it in malls
But a food for all

True African child.
Its sensation sterilises
That African blood.

Not a food like it
Thus, we call it in delight
Our African salad.

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