They entered the restaurant. It had no door and was made from red dry mud. An opening existed between the wall and the roof which was covered with dreaded palm leaves. Nice flavors were fragrancing the place. Some customers were already enjoying the delicacies.
They were as diverse as the population of Okunde. Soldiers, civilians, men, women, and children were occupying the long wooden benches that had been affixed to the ground. There was no table. So they held their meals wrapped in wasted papyrus with their hands and put their drinks on the floor or a brick in front of them.
Fried fish, grilled chicken, tomato stew with beans, cassava donuts, porridge, and mango juice were being sold at light speed. And to be served, one must exercise patience.
"Mami Makala, when is it going to be my turn? I have been waiting for too long now." A man in uniform complained to the aged lady vendor. He was extremely vexed.
