My Emotional Reunion with Yam and Oil

I don’t remember the last time I had yam and oil before yesterday but if I don’t eat it again before I leave home, I will always remember the 21st day of June, 2014 as the very epic day I last had yam and oil.

I was at the airport yesterday waiting to board my flight to Abuja aka my city aka home when my mum called my sister’s phone and informed her that she had just made boiled plantain with palm oil (and pepper) for dinner. Actually, what she had prepared for us was fried rice but we weren’t hearing that.

You see, rice is what we eat almost everyday in Ghana and while my mum’s fried rice is to die for (just had some before writing this. Jesus be a waist line regulator), yam and oil is one of those rare things I eat only when I am home. So even though she had made the plantain and oil just for herself, we insisted we wanted yam and oil for dinner so she hooked it up.

In the air, thanks to bad weather in Abuja, there was so much turbulence and drama but thoughts of my yam and oil kept me chill. Not only did I know I can’t die in a plane crash, I knew the God I serve will not allow me to die wondering what the yam and oil could have been like.

Anyway, we got to Abuja, got home and after all the hugs, kisses and tasting the special fried rice, I settled down to business. I should have taken a photo to accompany this post but there was really NO TIME for such. And because a certain someone may read this post, I will not go into how the yam and oil tasted. I will just tell y’all how it made me feel.

It gave me joy, comfort and hope.
It soothed my aching heart and body and showed me that while life is hard, sometimes all you need is yam and oil and you will be fine.

So this post is just to say cheers to yam and oil, and to my mum, the real MVP.