Last year I banned myself from cooking, and here’s why: just see the photo below. For some reason, any food I try to cook gets burnt. Heck, I even burn water!

I remember very well the last time I cooked — with BB (Big Bully — my big sister). We were both in the kitchen waiting for the food to get ready, while her (then) 6-month old baby was sleeping in the next room. Somehow we drifted into a conversation, and before we knew it, the food had burnt — right under our big noses.

And how did we get to know the food had burnt? We heard this wee cry from the baby and rushed over to check why she was crying. Suddenly we stood staring at each other: the food was burning and the smoke was choking the baby!

And just for your information, I studied Catering for three good years at school, and I even made an “A” in the final exam. So much for the restructuring of our educational system

So how do I eat? What do I eat?

Actually, most of the time, I don’t. That’s a trick I learnt when I was a kid: hunger doesn’t kill– at least not that quickly. When I do eat, it’s mostly juices (because fresh fruits and veges are difficult to come by here in Accra) and biscuits. On rare occassions I get the Esthers and Dzigbordis to make me pepper soup.

And by now you should have figured out why I’m writing all this: I’m just trying to woo Esther to come over and make me pepper soup. If you’re reading this, Esther, someone needs you. Pepperly. Souply. Dearly.