By the roadside, the aroma from a pot 

of stew overwhelms the pungent smell 

of the gutter whose basement offers 

the picture of two butchers struggling 

with a ballooned goat—skin the 

latest victim of searing water.

Outside, there is an impatient queue of 

different bowls

sizzling oil in a big pan 

squeezes the face of helpless bush-

meat. A woman, with her jiggling underarms, 

sends her ọmọrogùn into the heart of a Puffing 

Flavour. There is an old black pot on 

a shelf; a black cat runs through the customers’ 

legs. Across the roadside, there is a rumour 

on the headscarf of a tribal-marked woman:

If not for the foodseller’s charm of Awọrò 

What is that queue like a long column of ants 

Crawling towards a heap of sugar? 

Another woman with a headgear like 

a ram’s horn speaks of us as bewitched 

Foodies whose destinies have been drowned 

in the soup of wretchedness for a bowl of Àmàlà. 

Káyọ̀dé Ayọ̀bámi is a Nigerian and an African literature enthusiast, interested in Academics and Yorùbá translation. His works have been published or forthcoming in echelon, icefloepress, Olongo, Àtẹ́lẹwọ́, PoetrySangoỌta, isele, Ake review, South Florida, and elsewhere. He was shortlisted for the Ake Climate Change poetry prize(2022).