Remember
Ebele Mogo
the way our bodies were the ink
with which we wrote everything
into the parchment paper
of our lives?
the way a day did not pass
without us living it through and through
the way that we had time
instead of it having us?
peeling egusi husks, freshly plucked
for dinner
prying some stubbornly
from underneath our nail beds?
remember our tiny fingers turning bitter
from washing onugbu leaves
in mum’s spare aprons,
and adding a cork full of palm oil
to control the lather?
remember baking taking all evening
because we had mixed it all by hand
instead of crossing our fingers
for power that rarely came?
remembering stirring away
on wooden stools,
newspapers spread over the rug
to catch stray lumps of batter?
remember how we would wait
until the aroma spread
through the corridor
then check the oven
by the light of a lamp?
remember how we'd dip in a knife
squint in the dark at its silver frame
rejoicing if it came out dry?
remember the way we tasted the cake
while it was hot and foamy
our reward for waiting up
then go to bed, dreaming
of having it for breakfast?
with which we wrote everything
into the parchment paper
of our lives?
the way a day did not pass
without us living it through and through
the way that we had time
instead of it having us?
peeling egusi husks, freshly plucked
for dinner
prying some stubbornly
from underneath our nail beds?
remember our tiny fingers turning bitter
from washing onugbu leaves
in mum’s spare aprons,
and adding a cork full of palm oil
to control the lather?
remember baking taking all evening
because we had mixed it all by hand
instead of crossing our fingers
for power that rarely came?
remembering stirring away
on wooden stools,
newspapers spread over the rug
to catch stray lumps of batter?
remember how we would wait
until the aroma spread
through the corridor
then check the oven
by the light of a lamp?
remember how we'd dip in a knife
squint in the dark at its silver frame
rejoicing if it came out dry?
remember the way we tasted the cake
while it was hot and foamy
our reward for waiting up
then go to bed, dreaming
of having it for breakfast?
Ebele Mogo is fascinated by science, innovation, interiority, and philosophy. As a writer, she explores these curiosities through stories, essays, and poems. As a scientist, she explores them through research to inform innovation & investments for a healthy planetary future. Most recently her stories and poetry have been published in Snapdragon Journal, Jalada Africa, and Kikwetu Journal. Her stories have also been shortlisted for the Saraba Manuscript Prize (2016), and the Toyin Falola Prize (2020). She is on Twitter as @ebyral
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