Adaobi was known for two things: her impeccable fashion sense and her legendary jollof rice. Her friends often joked that her jollof could end wars and bring about world peace. "If only they knew," she would say with a wink, "that it’s just the right mix of tomatoes and a sprinkle of love!"

Every Sunday, Adaobi hosted a small gathering at her house. It was a sacred tradition where friends would come together to share stories, laughter, and, of course, her famous jollof rice. This particular Sunday, she decided to spice things up with a friendly cooking competition: the Great Jollof Rice Debate.

As the sun began its descent, golden rays filtering through the palm trees, her friends arrived with pots, ingredients, and a healthy dose of competitive spirit. There was Chijioke, the self-proclaimed “Jollof Connoisseur," who believed that adding curry powder was the secret to success. Then came Ify, the queen of ‘bitterleaf stew,’ who insisted that her jollof should be cooked with "real love" – whatever that meant. Finally, there was Tunde, who thought he could win by simply adding extra pepper to his dish. “More pepper, more flavor!” he proclaimed, as he struggled to keep his eyes from watering.

The kitchen transformed into a war zone. Pots clanged, spoons clattered, and the air filled with the scent of sizzling onions and spicy tomatoes. Laughter echoed as Tunde attempted to juggle a frying pan and nearly set his apron on fire. “If you can’t handle the heat, get out of the kitchen!” Chijioke teased, dodging a spoonful of tomato sauce that Ify flung in his direction. “At least I’m not the one about to cry like a baby!” he shot back, pointing at Tunde.

As the cooking progressed, so did the banter. “You know,” Adaobi chimed in with a grin, “the only thing worse than a burnt jollof is a burnt ego!” Everyone erupted in laughter, even Tunde, whose fiery creation was beginning to look more like a concoction for the fire department than a delicious meal.

Finally, after what felt like hours, the rice was ready. The contestants lined their jollof rice on the table, each dish a testament to their culinary prowess,or lack thereof. Adaobi, acting as the judge, picked up a spoon and tasted each entry, her face expressionless. The suspense was palpable.

“Hmm… very interesting,” she said, trying to keep a straight face as she gulped down Tunde’s fiery creation, which could only be described as “molten lava.” “And spicy! Very, very spicy!”

After a few rounds of tasting and dramatic pauses, Adaobi finally announced, “The winner of the Great Jollof Rice Debate is… me!” She revealed her own dish, which was met with groans of mock indignation from her friends.

“You can’t be serious!” Ify laughed, wiping tears from her eyes. “You made us all slaves to your jollof only to declare yourself the queen!”

“Ah, but you all agreed to this! Besides, I did give you a chance to dethrone me,” she winked. “Now, who’s ready for seconds?”

Amidst the laughter, the friendly rivalry, and the delicious food, a nostalgic tone swept over the room. “You know,” Chijioke said, “I miss our friend Nneka. She would have loved this.”

Nneka had moved abroad a few years prior, and her absence was felt deeply every time they gathered. “She was the real jollof queen,” Ify added, her voice tinged with sadness. “I can almost hear her teasing us.”

They shared stories of Nneka, recalling her infectious laughter and the way she would always steal the last scoop of rice. “I bet she’s out there winning international jollof competitions,” Tunde said, chuckling. They all agreed that she would have absolutely crushed them in the competition.

As the night went on, they reminisced about the good times and the memories they had shared. In that moment, they realized that the true essence of their gatherings wasn’t just about the food; it was about friendship, love, and the joy of togetherness,seasoned with a pinch of humor and a dash of nostalgia.

The Great Jollof Rice Debate became a cherished memory, and every time they gathered thereafter, they kept Nneka alive in their hearts and laughter. Adaobi may have been the queen of jollof rice, but their friendship was the crown jewel that made every gathering unforgettable.

And so, every Sunday, as pots simmered and laughter filled the air, they cooked not just for the love of food, but for the love of each other, and for the memories of those who had left an indelible mark on their lives.