It's been a long time, without you my friend. Two hours? How am I supposed to account for that? Nonetheless, I am coming back home to you.
Our relationship is one that dates back so long. Even before I walked the face of the earth, you knew me and were ready to love me. A match made in heaven, for heaven. You were there for me when I was toothless, when I had had my first kiss, when Arsenal beat my Man United, when the Queen passed by home on her way to Munyonyo. Seeing that you and I would last long, I made myself well acquainted with the kitchen. You appreciated this, and made love to my tummy and taste buds. Food, so amazing.
I want to complain about my size, given that I've eaten a lot and I'm running low on patience answering people when they ask about where my food ends up. But what is a love without an argument? It wouldn't be the first time I have complained. Because you and I are inseparable. Like the zebra and the black-white crossings. The Leopard and his spots. Anyway, my clothes fit. And she seems to like me this way. Oh yes! You two will exchange pleasantries sooner rather than later. She is coming this Valentine's Day. I've narrated our story to her and she's insisted on meeting with you. It's our time in the kitchen as always. You & I. Is she jealous? I can't really tell but that would be awesome. The competition would work in my favor.
I need you to be on your best behavior this weekend. Woo her, the same way you did me. They say it's through the stomach that one gets to a man's heart but that holds for this lady. I intend to be a 5-Star general after this weekend. Her love for a good cuisine is second to none.
Let's keep it as pristine as we always have. I love the way your rotund onions meet the sharp edge of H.E knife and come off slivered. Tomatoes, burgundy, right for the flavor. That thing you do, where you furtively mix spices in, with the right amount, tuning the flavor to harass my nostrils, which in turn hit stones in the hives of my taste buds, excellent. Let's do it that same style. Old but gold.
I have quite the gargantuan appetite, and so does she. Well, she claimed. I am sucker for Gnut stew and if you recall from our journey to the land of long horns, it's not a meal, unless it's served with eshabwe. Eshabwe preaches paradise whenever I taste it. There is this thing called "Oluwombo." That we can do, right Cynthia? Chicken in plantain leaves. That's the most urban I could translate it for your widely traveled self. We can do this for her. This will pelt away any final doubts she has about me. These combinations in my head though. Maybe, the thoughts of the D-day scare the creeps out of me.
That's something I believe you, my Cynthia, can take care of. I will help you of course. You want to know the name of the guest. I guess we'll have to wait for 14th February.