Ibidun was just like every woman, she wanted to be the first to use the best or something new. So, it wasn’t a wonder when she scurried about to look for something to break that hard-as-stone maggi that refused to break.
But the idiot wouldn’t bulge and she couldn’t use stone to break it, so she was compelled to throw it into the boiling red soup like that with no fear. It would melt by itself.
When her daughter, and luckily for her, her friend arrived, she was beaming and ready to show them the soup, the grand soup she had just cooked and the wonderful taste it would have. She, like her friend, was a good cook who cooked and didn’t need to taste it for salt or other things because with instinct of a master, they knew their soup was good.
‘ Whoa’, she said rejoicing, ‘I just got a maggi that you’ve never tasted in your life. You people will be the first to taste from the master’s soup’.
So, when she dished it for them and they frowned, she recoiled.
‘ What’s wrong with it?’
‘ Ibidun, did you use sugar to cook?’
‘ Sugar? May God not let us see fire in a well. When Maggi have not finish in the world’.
‘ That’s imposible’, she said and tasted it for the first time and dropped the spoon as though it had become fire,’ my head oooo’.
‘ Where’s the maggi you use. I mean where are the wrappers?’
‘ No need for wrappers, I still have more’.
She hurried inside and rushed back, staring at it.
‘ It’s milo Maggi’.
‘ Ah mummy that’s not maggi. That’s choco milo. It’s a sweet’, her daughter said and gave her friend a side-glance and they buckled in laughter, while she stood staring at them, calculating how much she spent on the soup.