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Omari in multimedia

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The sound of the sharp knife repeatedly hitting against the wood cutting board filled the kitchen. I moved my finger back every time the knife got too close. There were still three other things that needed to be cut and chopping my finger off was not going to help me prepare this meal any faster.

Although tensions were still running high and O'sane still wasn't talking to me after a week of our little argument; the dinner with our parents must go on. Besides, regardless of what petty squabble we were having my mother would force the two of us to get along with one another for one night in order to make Daddy happy.

Lately my mother's somewhat overbearing nature had only gotten worse when my Dad came back around. Now its like we were all who we were many years ago when my mom would give all of us orders and we followed them out of fear; for me and O'sane it was fear of getting our asses spanked while I'm sure my Dads fear was that mom would make him sleep on the couch or even worse: stab him like they say she did back when they were newly weds.

Normally sunday dinners at my house meant cooking regular soul food when I actually felt like spending a couple hours in the kitchen, but seeing as I wasn't just cooking for normal guests traditional sunday cooked meals would do no justice. Both of my parents come from big cultural backgrounds more in detail the Caribbeans. Food there was rather more complex than just fried chicken, greens, and sweet potatoes. Growing up my mom always made sure to keep is in touch with our roots every now then by making her world famous Callaloo. I remember growing up and everyone who lived on our block would pay my mother to make them some. It was just that good. My Dad loved it more than any body though so that's what I'm making tonight: Callaloo, Beef Stew, and rice.

Just as I had finished tossing the last of the vegetables in the pot, making sure not to burn myself, O'sane dragged himself into the kitchen with his dreads hanging all in his face. I rolled my eyes at how he could be cooped up in his room all day, but as soon as I start cooking he wants to come out. A typical nigga if you ask me.

"What you making?" O'sane asked. The nap that he just had was still evident in his voice.

"Food." O'sane smacked his lips and came around to the stove and peeked inside of the steaming pots. I instantly rushed over and popped him in the head.

"Aye you ain't gotta hit on me." He said mugging me while rubbing the spot where I hit him.

"Well stop looking in my pots and having them things hanging all around this good food." I said referring to his dreadlocs. Over the years my baby brothers hair had grown tremendously and he had me to thank for it because if it was up to him, his shit would be all matted together and I just wasn't gonna' let him do that to himself.

"Aight my bad. I just came to grab a quick snack."

"But dinner is almost ready."

"Almost ready and being ready are two totally different things, sis." He stated while looking through the refrigerator for something to snack on.

"Well it would be quicker if you helped me." I rolled my eyes cleaning up one part of the kitchen I didn't need any more.

"Nah sis I ain't the cooking type. Plus I don't even know what to do." O'sane said tossing a grape in his mouth.

"Come here, I'll teach you." O'sane ate his last grape, washed his hands and threw one of my robes that read: If you lickin' ya fingers then its good. I laughed then added to the humor by putting a hair net on him.

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