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In a Kitchen Where Mama Broke the World Record Yesterday, Mama put on the green attire with a white strip Then she moved on steadfast to make us proud On her own track; on her apron like in the kitchen The magic and miracle mixture of assorted conglomerates united- She cooked "Naija' jollof" as intercontinental delicacy Served the world before her to have a taste Of "who we are as a whole -giant Africana" So after all, she was made the world chef too With the most tasteful spoon in less tick-tock -in cooking the yummy meal out of other mummies. Mama was overwhelmed Her golden prime stood around her neck, drawing many attentions to the dresser As she sang the anthem, amidst, She had long broke the record before breaking into tearful cries Wondering how "the labour of our heros' past shall never be in vain"? So the scrapped pot she brought back home to us With joy we ate. We rejoiced with blessing And licked out of our home-made dish Mis-taken as turnt remnant abroad. At last, she first; she didn't steal the moment, Only the winning she've shifted To the broken pocket And the momentum we'd made -victoriously. — Hajani Hibard
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