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page 14
Praise-shout for Asfaw, the best cook in Africa! Lips-on-fire! is his spicy lamb tummy-in-heaven! is his mango jam awo! he is Mister Cook our Mister Happiness Cook his face is rounder than stew-pots but his fingers run fast as billy goats his t’ibs cut crisp as a shoe-shine his fenugreek water, araa! cooler than limes when he’s shredding a fitfit, he whistles when it’s fasting and hushhush, he whispers dogs howl for his gristly bones sheep sidle up with muzzling and moans how can I praise the man who feeds me? he is my father because he feeds me! I stand at the iron gates and shout: Asfaw is the secret I will never let out! do you know Asfaw, the husband of Almaz? negus of kitchens and sons? he cooks all day to feed his families he is a hundred wooden spoons! t’ibs: fried meat fitfit: injera (moist unleavened bread) mixed with spicy stew hushhush (shifinfin in Amharic): stew hidden under a layer of injera, to be ordered under one’s breath during one of the many religious fasts! negus: king 14
page 15
Wot? What’s for dinner? Dad calls flooring bulgy briefcase… we holler all we’re worth Wot’s for dinner, Dad! his forehead puzzles up that’s what I’d like to know! by now we’re giggling so hard we nearly wet our pants three shrieky wriggle-sacks he scoops to covered basket tears off ant-hill hat look! spongy pancake splashed with knuckle-squirts of stew and staring eggs, long sticktooth shreds of goat, gooey angel peas and half-bean kikwot Dad prissies at our fists tearing food apart looks on scandal-browed out, forks! out, schooly Englishness! we trill, loading our strips of injera with bombs of senafich and slither-chicken drop them on our tongues three, two, one.....blast-off!!! then wave our gluey hands straight up like gum-trees Asfaw marching in with bowls and towels, sprays us 15

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Praise-shout for Asfaw, the best cook in Africa!

Lips-on-fire! is his spicy lamb tummy-in-heaven! is his mango jam awo! he is Mister Cook our Mister Happiness Cook his face is rounder than stew-pots but his fingers run fast as billy goats his t’ibs cut crisp as a shoe-shine his fenugreek water, araa! cooler than limes when he’s shredding a fitfit, he whistles when it’s fasting and hushhush, he whispers dogs howl for his gristly bones sheep sidle up with muzzling and moans how can I praise the man who feeds me? he is my father because he feeds me!

I stand at the iron gates and shout: Asfaw is the secret I will never let out!

do you know Asfaw, the husband of Almaz? negus of kitchens and sons?

he cooks all day to feed his families he is a hundred wooden spoons!

t’ibs: fried meat fitfit: injera (moist unleavened bread) mixed with spicy stew hushhush (shifinfin in Amharic): stew hidden under a layer of injera, to be ordered under one’s breath during one of the many religious fasts! negus: king

14

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