The efik/ibibio people might call her ADIAHA
THE IGBO'S calls her Ada
A true born African
her hips seals lips
for a thousand words are wrapped around her waist... And
Her chest carries a mountain
A canaan of its own
Flowing with MILK AND HONEY
even Israel can't compete
for her mind has won more battles than JOSHUA ever did with a sword..
Her dark skin tell the tales of her originality..
She is the African salad.. Every man wish to taste..
The young ones look up to her while their mother's reminisce
She  feed lord lugard and Nnamdi Azikiwe even before they knew how to spell their names..
She was there when Ojukwu declared war on her sons and her daughters were made barren..
She is the mother of poets and the inventor of poetry...
Stories were like poems in her mouth even before Hollywood could master the art...
Her tongue had painted more pictures in the heart of her children
so Her HISTORY they never forget
#MAMA_AFRICA

Kindirimu maid
By Felix Nnamdi Obiekwe
Morning after morning I wait for her
For she must come from the Plains
Beyond the thousand Sandy dunes
I wait too for her melodious tunes
Composed amidst squeezing and squirting of Udder.
I wait too for her ware, the creamy Kindirimu.
I wait because, without it what else have I got?
She never fails even if the Sahara conducts congress
You must see her adorning her bright skimpy dress
Whether the plains are burning or chilling
There is often a calabash bowl upon her head
And a million accompanying fly's which I suspect
Are more enthralled than I am
This milk maid is a bundle of smiles
The eyes glittering like stars on a hazy sky
Infecting my mood even in miles.
Each time, I behold her I knew that somethings never lie.