Remembering how I and Osas when we just came back to Russia in 1989 and giggling over a bowl of soup we called zmeinni supchic, phrase taken from a Russian translated western movie. We had those moments when we couldn't stop laughing, I call it smehuyochki da pizdahahanki. Our mother not understanding the fun would often drive us in separate rooms, but we would run out and just a look at each other's face the giggle fits start all over again, boy that woman was something.
Burnt my stew now and I am pacifying myself with the thought "it will taste differently" after all jolof rice tastes better when made under firewood, it's the smoke flavour of mama put.
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