Return to Biafra (Short Story‪)‬

Mrs. Nkwatcha sliced the beef and dropped it into the stew that was simmering in two big black pots on the fire. She took an extra split stick of petrified wood and slipped it under one of the pots, dropped a handful of chopped okra in and stirred it. She'd let the stew simmer for a couple of hours until the okra turned gummy and the meat was tender, then it would stay hot in the big pots. It should last for the evening. A big plastic tub held her already cooked rice, over which she poured the red-pepper stew. Joloff rice was her specialty and her stew was quite delicious. Mrs. Nkwatcha was quite happy here. They had moved to the north three years ago. She surveyed the hotel that her husband had bought. Business was good at the Unity Hotel. They kept five rooms along the right hand side of the courtyard. One of the girls was sitting outside, plaiting her friend's hair. They both wore brightly-coloured wrappers that must have cost over fifty naira each. She didn't have a problem with any of the present girls-two were Ibo like herself, one Yoruba and two were from me Cameroon and life was good for them.