The destiny of great nation, rest on shoulders of Garri,
The balance diet filled with nourishing nutrition,
It's the saviour from time of sheu shagari.
When our hope is bleak,
This humble food that many seek.
A sustenance born from cassava's might,
Garri, the hero of the darkest night.
From the hands that toil, the cassava's grown,
Tended with love, by farmers unknown.
Roots dug from earth, with patience and care,
Transformed to garri, a meal we share.
In dusty mills, the cassava's crushed,
Its starchy essence released and hushed.
Water's embrace, a gentle baptism,
Then sieved and sieved, to remove the schism.
The fine grains settle, sun-dried with grace,
A golden carpet on nature's face.
With time and fire, transformation's call,
The garri takes shape, ready to enthrall.
In humble kitchens, where dreams take flight,
The garri dances, casting its light.
The pot sizzles, as oil sings a song,
Together they harmonize, righting all wrongs.
A feast is made with meager supplies,
Garri's abundance, a true surprise.
In bowls, it's served, a comfort profound,
Nourishing bodies, lifting hearts off the ground.
Its taste, a melody, simple yet grand,
The flavor of home, across the land.
With soup or stew, it takes its place,
Filling empty spaces with humble grace.
Garri, the companion in times of despair,
A loyal ally, always ready to share.
When hunger strikes, it stands as a shield,
Satiating hunger, allowing hearts to heal.
So, let us sing of garri's delight,
Its power to sustain us through the night.
In times of hunger, we find solace here,
Garri, the food that banishes fear.
© Promise Olamilekan Odejide
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