7 I still hear one vois wey tell mi sey, ‘Get up Pita, kill some, make yu chop.’
As I look inside, I kon si animals wey get four legs, bush meat, di ones wey dey creep and difren-difren birds.
But I ansa, ‘Oga God, I nor fit, bikos since dem born mi, I neva chop anytin wey nor dey klean.’
Bikos evritin wey God kreate, dey good and wi nor suppose rijet any food, so-far wi don tank God for am,