It downright disrespectful to know Okro soup is alive, fresh, and bubbling in this economy, and you still hand over the “Soup of the Year with Re-Warm Value” award to Afang.
Afang that loses focus once you microwave it twice it becomes suddenly bitter, confused, and tasting like punishment.
That soup doesn’t survive reheating.
It just retires early like it’s tired of life, especially when our Akwa-Cross brethren decide to decorate it with Kpomo, who itself it’s a soup spoiler after the first day.
But Okro?
Okro is a resilient, shape shifting king.
It doesn’t just survive, it thrives.
On Day 1, it’s smooth.
By Day 4, it’s mysterious.
On Day 7, you don’t even know what’s going on in that pot anymore but you’re licking your fingers and looking for more because you’ve been baptizing it with leftover proteins, tiny crayfish, and enough prayer.
Okro soup is not just food.
It’s an experience!
A warrior!
An indabosky bahose!
A generational blessing to the average mankind of this PDP damaged economy.
Put some respect on its name.