My Ghanaian Princess.

“Good evening customer, how work today?” She said beaming with smiles like a child at his birthday present.

“I’m fine” I replied managing to muster a smile. “Work has been wonderful. How market?” I asked her.

“Market dey move Oh! In fact market don move as I don see you.” She said as she packaged my kenke. “Just for one person ma.” I told her.

She arched her brows. “Why now? Where is your sister, she no come today?” She asked me

“She has travelled” I replied.

“Ooohhh Kay! My regards to her O!” She said handling the black nylon containing my kenke and fish.

That was mama john. She sells kenke at the junction to my house. I’m not Ghanaian; neither do I have a Ghanaian relative. The only Ghanaian word I know is kenke it self.


Yet my love for kenke increases by the day and it’s the only thing that gets me close to her.


Eating kenke has become a ritual of some sort for me. It’s more like an obsessive compulsive disorder (OCD). If a prophet told me that in just three months I’d relish kenke this much, I’d have cursed him. But when love touches your heart, you do the unthinkable.

As I made my way back home my thoughts wandered. All I could think of was my Ghanaian princess.


  Hmm hmmn! She replied as she hurried into the bathroom, that was our first encounter. It wasn’t a love at first sight kind of thing ‘cos it was dark. It was at my cousin’s place. I had come to spend the weekend.

Who was that I asked my cousin?  Giselle.

She replied.  “Giselle?

“What kind of a name is that? She’s black” I asked puzzled.

“Whoever said only whites can bear Giselle, are you been racist?” Taunted my cousin.

“Cut the crap gurl and answer my question”. I snarled at her.

Well she’s here on a visit and she’s Ghanaian.

“Oh oh! Lil wonder. I exclaimed. Is that why she wouldn’t greet well? This is Naija O, and we greet well, you better tell her.”


My cousin looked at me, shook her head “she’s a very nice girl  just get to know her before you crucify her and she’s not feeling fine.” She said rolling her eyes as she went into the kitchen. “By the way, what’s eating you up egbon? You don’t get worked up over trivial issues like this.” Kike my cousin said as she served my meal.

“Nothing. I’m just a bit tired.”

“You don’t expect me to believe that shola, I know you too well to let you be on this. Oya spill the bean.”

Kike sure knows how to get me talking. We’ve been too close for me to lie to her. I tell her everything. She knows when I’m happy, sad or bothered. Since I broke up with my ex, we’ve been even closer. That was two years ago.


I began to tell her my tales as I ate. Giselle strolled into the living room and walked up to me. “Good evening Uncle, I’m sorry bout the greeting earlier; I’m just having the usual erm… ladies stuffs. I didn’t mean to be rude. You must be uncle Shola. I’ve heard a lot about you.” She said. I was fixed, but managed to say hi.

“I just came to apologize before going to bed. I hope you are not cross with me anymore” she asked smiling.

“Uhm! No offence taken. I didn’t know you were not feeling fine. I said. Just take good care of yourself.”

I will she replied as she made for her bed room.


Whoever thought I could be so fond of you?

Everything about the kenke reminds me of her. The kenke balls as hard as they are remind me of your boobs. They are pert, perky, and firm. It makes me wanna hold them again.


The hot kenke sauce reminds me of the first time we were together. It was a mixture of pain and pleasure as I unveiled her. She was a virgin. She squinted and dug her nails into my back. It was painful for her at first but she got used to me. She wrapped her long legs round me and synced her hips with mine.

The fish reminds me of your elegant shape, your skin and velvety black skin. Her father must have meant gazelle. I loved to watch her undress and she was aware. What a great seductress she was!

She would tease me as she made for the bathroom.  I would chase her like policemen after a fugitive. Then we’d make passionate love in the tub.



It was sad you had to go. I didn’t want you to leave. You didn’t either, but you had to. We had just finished making love when that call came through. It was your mum. Dad was sick and you had to go home. He’s actually been sick for a while. So you told me.

Though Ghana is not too far and we’ve been calling each other, it’s not like been with you. Life has been very bland.

It’s been 3 weeks since you left and I’ve never missed my kenke, because you cherished it. As I begin to eat my kenke, I remember mama john asking after Giselle. If only she knew you were not my sister. She must have concluded so because you always called me uncle.

My Ghanaian princess even though you are miles away, I still love you and will always do. I will also continue to eat kenke, even if it gives me heart burns, I won’t stop patronizing mama john even if the kenke sauce purges me.


Till me meet again here or there, my solace lies in mama dokunnu.


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