I wake up. Footsteps. Coming quickly up the stairs. Keys jingling, one is inserted into the keyhole. It is turned. The door opens, it screeches, the hinges really need to be oiled. Footsteps coming closer. A click and bright light fills the room. Footsteps. I turn towards the sound.

The chapatis were quite flexible I confess. They were willing to make love to any type of stew in my mouth. The chapatis however, had a romantic attachment to beef stew. Thus, if mum made beef stew. It was not uncommon for suspicious sounds bordering on the sexual to emanate from my being. I literally had no control over myself when eating mama’s chapatis.