Chapter 6: The Drumstick Dilemma

As we commot from Oga Obilo tent, many labourers still dey wipe tears, mind dey touch them.

The air sweet, hope dey everywhere. Some people dey plan how dem go work harder. Some dey hug their new ankara like baby.

Truly, nobody don ever meet overseer wey get this kind heart before.

Dem dey talk am for whisper, "If to say Nigeria get like ten Oga Obilo, we for no suffer reach like this."

As I dey go, I just remember say Oga Obilo don dey busy serve us, e no even chop anything himself.

He dey waka up and down, never rest. Even the people wey serve food before no reach his level.

Before, I hide small ugba for my pocket, I no wan chop all at once. After I reason am, I turn back, call am:

I dey look the small thing for my hand, I dey shame. But e get as e dey do me for heart.

"Oga Obilo, you dey busy?"

My voice low, I dey fear to disturb am. E be like say him no hear me well.

I hear muffled sound from inside the tent, like person wey get food for mouth.

The sound na small. E be like person dey try hide something.

"Oga Obilo, you dey okay?"

I call am again, this time my body dey tingle, hope say nothing bad happen.

Another small sound come out.

I dey reason say maybe na rat dey disturb am. My leg dey ready to run if wahala dey.

My heart jump—abi something don happen to Oga Obilo?

Fear catch me. If anything happen to this man, e go bad for everybody.

I rush open the tent.

I use one hand push the flap, enter inside sharp.

Inside, Oga Obilo sit down, cheeks puff like say he dey hide something, look me with small embarrassment. He hold two golden things for hand, and cup with dark drink dey in front of am.

The scene funny, but I no fit laugh. The aroma from the food reach my nose. E be like fried chicken, but I never see am before for my life.

I stand, shock, before I understand—Oga Obilo dey chop. But the food for him hand, I never see am before; the aroma just dey tempt person.

My belly talk for me, but I hold myself. E get as e dey do me—shame and small hope join together.

I swallow spit. As Oga Obilo notice, he stretch hand give me one of the things wey he hold.

His eyes soft, as if say he understand. E no talk plenty, just stretch hand, smile gentle.

"Erm... you wan try am? I use 50 favour points take exchange for this fried chicken drumstick and Coke... E cost well well, abeg, just leave small for me..." I no understand that favour points Oga dey talk, but the way e guard that chicken, e clear say e no easy to get.

I dey look the golden meat, the black drink. E dey shine, I dey see my face for the oil. Even the Coke dey fizz, dey sing small song for the cup.

I want refuse sharp-sharp—how I go chop Oga Obilo food?

For my mind, I dey argue. This Oga don do plenty for us, how I go fit take him food? But the way him hand dey steady, I know say e mean am.

How I go fit chop wetin belong to Oga Obilo?

Even as my mind dey talk say make I leave am, my stomach dey shout. Na that hunger and gratitude dey fight for inside me, but the moment sweet for my soul.

I collect am, hand dey shake. For that small moment, hunger, gratitude, and respect dey jam for my chest like three stubborn goats.