THOUGHTS OF FEMOLAD: I REMEMBER NO CHICKEN (Confessions and freedom from blackmail)
(Confessions and freedom from blackmail)
Anytime those words come to my mind I remember Emeka. I also Remember Steven.
I do also remember the story of the chicken too.
At the end of this post, some old friends will remember the dramatis personae, but only very few who were privy will remember the story of Emeka, Steven and the Chicken.
We were all young men working on the farm of a retired Army General somewhere in Ogun State.
There was in us then a feeling that is better felt than described.
We were enthusiastic.
We were zealous.
Most of us were doing paid jobs for the first time
The Army General housed some of us in his flat on the farm, the same place he lived while on the farm. It was called BLOCK ONE. He treated us like his children or should I say a bunch of cadets undergoing training. So we felt and acted like it was our father’s farm.
I will be talking about Block one and the characters one day soon.
May I digress to say that Baba’s (We called him Baba or General) farm produced many great men and women. We learnt so much there. He was like a veteran imparting knowledge on little boys and girls.
Back to Emeka, Steven and the Chickens. I only digressed to make my readers understand the environment and setting where it happened.
Emeka and Steven worked in the poultry section of the farm and lived in the junior staff quarters.
Both were very hard working and diligent young men.
Emeka was Ibo
Steven was a Ghanaian
I am yoruba
(Its not as if where we came from had any influence on the story. I didn’t matter where you came from. I just mentioned it to show Baba’s farm was a collection of all tribes and clans.)
We went about our duties with so much glee that working was almost like fun. That kind of thing you feel when you love what you are doing.
Same went for Emeka and Steven until something happened.
Steven suddenly became a very sad man. I also noticed he was doing Emeka’s ration of work while Emeka walked around joking with people. Emeka was actually a jester.
At break time, when we all went to eat and have fun for a whole 60 minutes, Steven hardly had time to eat, Instead of the full meal available at the canteen, I remember buying my friend Steven biscuits and soft drinks on my way back to work after the one hour break.
This went on for over a week.
I was wondering what was happening to my friend. Was he owing Emeka? Was it nostalgia? (Steven’s father was a minister or something like that before the Ghanaian crisis. He was from an affluent background)
One evening after work, a female friend and I called steven aside. After much persuasion he confessed.
Steven had an Edo girlfriend, Linda. It was Linda’s birthday some weekend earlier. Steven was broke. So he stole a chicken to celebrate his love. Emeka caught him but promised to keep the secret. I remember Emeka, my friend and I were with them at the junior staff quarters that weekend for the celebration of love.
We even ate of the STOLEN CHICKEN. Don’t crucify me, yours truly never knew it was stolen.
On resumption of work the following week, Emeka insisted Steven did his part of the work as compensation for keeping his secret. Stephen had thought it was going to be one off. But alas, Emeka kept at it. We reveled over it throughout that evening. We sat by the fish pond, away from the pack. I told Steve to allow me think about it overnight.
The following day at work I told Steve to leave Emeka’s work undone. He was afraid. Pilfering was like armed robbery on the farm. Apart from punishment, there was also the stigma.
I assured him I had a solution. Emeka was going to be shamed.
As usual, Steve’s traducer went about joking and jisting till break time.
At break time I told Steve to go with me to the Farm Manager’s office. He almost jumped out of his skin. My friend felt I was going to send him back to Ghana. He didn’t know I had seen Oga earlier that morning. When I told him my plan he felt better and prayed that it worked.
We, Emeka, myself and my friend, knelt in front of the Farm Manager’s table while my friend confessed. Oga felt pity and forgave Steven, telling him never to repeat same. He also told us if Emeka had reported after all said and done, both of them would have been sacked.
We spent the remaining minutes happy and gallivanted back to work.
Emeka was shocked his portion of work was left undone. I was watching as he whispered to Steve. “Stevo see my work left undone. Hmm. Remember the chicken”. My friend replied boldly “I remember no chicken”
Emeka prodded further “Steven, the chicken”
Steve spoke out this time aloud “ I don’t remember any chicken, in fact there was no chicken”.
Everybody looked up and Emeka was feeling embarrassed.
People started laughing as the jester went back to work.
By the way, we had told some guys the story, so we were all prepared for the scenario that played out. Emeka was humbled thereafter. There were also others who knew why the guy was in servitude. Steven became one of the most diligent and hard working guys around.
Away from Steven, Emeka and the Chicken, there are lessons to be learnt from the story.
In life, in politics, in business, there are many Emekas lurking around to use your mistakes against you. They blackmail you with your errors and misdemeanors to enslave you. You are forced to do their bidding because of things you’d rather not want others to know.
The consequences of confession are most times much less than the blackmail.
That is not to say you can keep sinning and confessing. No! Repeated confessions are bad for reputation.
When it happens, confess, ask for forgiveness and sin no more. Put the Emekas in your life, your politics, your business even in your marriage to shame.
As for me, I REMEMBER NO CHICKEN
(This is dedicated to Prince Kola Adewusi, the new Deputy Governor elect of Osun State who was also in BLOCK ONE at the period in question)
I am Femi Ladapo Femolad
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