On Eggs and Life...
Mum hired a new cook. He had previously worked in a restaurant. I wish I could paint a picture that we had someone from an exotic restaurant come to work in our humble home… Ha! Don’t let your imaginations run wild at the mention of restaurant. My mum was relieved to get someone new.
I really didn’t care about where he was from or if he was new or not… Not until the first day he made breakfast.
I wasn’t a very happy child when I saw what breakfast was.
I was expecting regular fried eggs and bread, not soggy looking eggs with a pile of tomatoes and probably too much oil.
I had never seen egg stew/sauce before then. I only knew of the boiled, fried and scrambled variations.
When mummy came out for breakfast, I was whining, and almost in tears as I had to eat my bread without eggs “he doesn’t even know how to fry eggs” I complained.
My little girl mind couldn’t comprehend how an adult, who was supposed to be a cook, from a restaurant, had no idea how to fry eggs. Even I could fry eggs if given a chance. Why would he fry it that way? So distastefully!
Mummy didn’t really acknowledge my complaint, she probably felt sorry for me not eating well before going to school.
The cook was relieved of his job. I’m not sure it was because of the eggs though… I had to ask my mum why he was sacked, because I suddenly felt bad as I wrote this, what if he left because I said he couldn’t fry eggs? Mummy can’t remember why she asked him to go, but I can be rest assured from the look on her face that she thinks me silly for thinking she sacked a man for making yummy egg sauce.
Today? I’m the queen of egg sauce; I love it with yam, with plantain, with sweet potatoes, I even have it with bread sometimes. I love to make it. I’m sure I’ll rival that cook in an egg stew cook out! I’ve got egg stew game.
It’s funny how we often reject what we can’t understand. Because we’ve always had something or done something in a certain way doesn’t mean the next way isn’t cool enough, or even better. Add two to five and you get a seven. The same way you get a seven if you add four to three or six to one.
There was a little old lady who would come out every morning on the steps of her front porch, raise her arms to the sky and shout, "Praise the Lord!"
Well, one day an atheist moved into the house next door. Over time, he became irritated at the little old lady. So every morning he would step out onto his front porch and yell after her, "There is no God!"
Time passes with the two of them carrying on this way every day. Then one morning in the middle of winter, the little old lady stepped onto her front porch and shouted, "Praise the Lord! Lord, I have no food and I am hungry. Please provide for me, oh Lord!"
The next morning she stepped onto her porch and there were two huge bags of groceries sitting there. "Praise the Lord!" she cried out. "He has provided groceries for me!" The atheist jumped out of the hedges and shouted, "There is no Lord. I bought those groceries!" The little old lady threw her arms into the air and shouted, "Praise the Lord! He has provided me with groceries and He made the devil pay for them!"