It was a cold night on the streets of Lagos. The warm breeze blowing the curtains in my room, they made a little ""whish"" sound as they fell back to their normal state. Mum was frying akara in the kitchen as that was what we ate every Saturday night.I could hear her singing as she put scoops of the light brown liquid substance into the deep frying pan.
Mother's Akara
Mother's Akara
Mother's Akara
It was a cold night on the streets of Lagos. The warm breeze blowing the curtains in my room, they made a little ""whish"" sound as they fell back to their normal state. Mum was frying akara in the kitchen as that was what we ate every Saturday night.I could hear her singing as she put scoops of the light brown liquid substance into the deep frying pan.