There I found myself in the four corners of my mom's kitchen, having crickets sing in the background/dark, of course outside. I stood by the stove with a wooden cooking stick in my hand, having stomach grumblings and desiring a warm meal. Like any other, I was ready to become a magician, converting raw products into yummy-licious meal. One can imagine the wars that took place in the kitchen. I placed my hot water in the pot, added my mealie meal. Lo and behold, the ingredients became violent, screaming to come out. Out of curiosity, I did the unimaginable, opening the pot. Mind you, at this point, it was restless, moving up and down like popcorn. I didn't realise that opening the pot was simply booking a match. In no time, pap won. It popped onto my skin, causing a blister to occur. In anguish, I killed its vibe by adding more mealie meal and staring as the recipe demands without granting it ample time for boiling/popping. I successfully had a meal on my table, yeah, right, ...