Of all the joints I visited, Nwanyi Nanka’s joint stood out. It wasn’t a fancy place like those restaurants that big men and Oyinbo people visited. It was a moderately sized room surrounded by roughly patched wooden walls and a rickety corrugated roof. Plastic tables and chairs were arranged. Food was dished outside and served the customer inside. Hardly a place a confirmed ajebutter would be. But Nwanyi Nanka’s pounded yam was food for the gods. And not by an angry worshipper. One taste and you will forget that you have a wife at home. I visited there once and I was hooked.
It was there I met Edna. Oh Edna. Even now, I can still remember the first day I saw her. I was quietly enjoying my usual pounded yam and ofe onugbu with my best friend, Edu. Our table was strategically located in such a way that we could see the cooking going on at the backyard. Till this day, I don’t know what made me look but I did and what I saw almost made my tongue hang out of my mouth.
She was fair. Very fair. Like mammy water. The best part? She was making pounded yam!
“So this is the divine hand that has been making me deliciously crazy in this place.” I said in my mind.
Her dress was pulled up between her legs, exposing fresh thighs which were spread to accommodate the big mortar and pestle before her. When she began to pound, her huge breasts bounced to the rhythm. Her grip on the pestle made me imagine what her grip on the bulging yam between my legs would be like. Watching her pound yam was the greatest thing I ever saw.
And when she finished and stood up, I sucked in my breath. She was even more beautiful than I thought. Neither fat nor slim, she was the right size to bounce around with on the bed without the fear of crushing her or being crushed. For the first time, I forgot my pounded yam and concentrated on getting Edna.
I managed to get her number and we began to chat on WhatsApp. From chatting we became close friends and lovers. So close that we chatted through the night to the next morning. My wife complained. But I ignored her.
The only person who didn’t complain about my affair with Edna was Nwanyi Nanka. Though, she pretended she didn’t know anything but I could see she approved with the way she always looked forward to my visit.
“Customer! Customer!” She would hail me whenever I visited.
“Madam! Madam!” I would hail back. “How market na?”
“My brother, we thank God.” She would reply.
Then she would order Edna to clear my favorite table, the very one where I could look at the backyard and watch Edna, and serve my favorite of pounded yam and ofe onugbu. After eating, I would stay behind to chat with her and Nwanyi Nanka. When Edna was finished for the day – she always closed early – we would leave together. Not before I dashed Nwanyi Nanka some serious money.
“Costumer! Customer!” She would hail me again. “My best customer! Thank you very much. God will bless you for me.”
“Amen.” I would reply.
Afterwards, I would spoil Edna with cash and clothes and take her to Tantalizers or one of the other popular eateries. And then, we would end up in a hotel room to cool off.
My wife noticed I was gradually slipping away from her. Her skills in pounded yam suddenly improved. But it was too late. Edna was the only thing I craved.
Then Edna got pregnant. I didn’t think twice. I divorced Chioma despite protests from both of our families. All I wanted was Edna. I was happy. Finally, I had a beautiful wife who actually knew how to make pounded yam and not make me purge.
To be continued…