Having an elder brother comes with a lot of benefits. In him, you have a computer game companion, someone with an approximate clothe size especially t-shirts, an adviser cum confidant and an accomplice. With the benefits beget some disasters. One becomes an everyday punching bag, involvement in troubles is imminent, being defrauded and reduction in one’s portion of the meal. I quite remembered Tolu and I chasing ourselves with sticks and knives around the compound while mimicking the Power Rangers Samurais.
Before my teenage years, I was introduced to the world of meat thievery by the master of the craft, Tolu. Tolu was skilled in slim-fitting large chunks of meats with his sharp sets of incisors and canines. And whenever a pot of soup is made, some small and medium-sized chunks of meats will be missing and Mummy will not detect.
On that fateful day, I woke up to visit the restroom as a result of a severe stomachache. Seated at the edge of the bed was Tolu muching the spoils of his nocturnal exploits. Mummy has fried some pieces of meat and others have been cooked with the egusi soup.
I exclaimed silently and the startled Tolu drifted his gaze to my direction. I promised to report to Mummy the next day but Tolu has the wild card of the pack. He stucked a piece of the meat between my lips and vowed that he is not going down alone. I have been framed for a crime I have no hands in.
Thereafter, he promised to teach me how to fish on my own. Maybe I will tell Tolu to make a YouTube video in case you are interested in learning the craft. That night, he led me through the stages of the theft and how to escape when footsteps are approaching. Indeed, Tolu is the Michelangelo of the art.
Despite the rumblings in my stomach, I took some part of Tolu’s loot and anticipated how we will steal from the pot the next day. I played out how it will be done in my head a number of times before I succumbed to the heavy blows of sleep.
My moment came after the wait seemed like ages. My tutor was snoring heavily and I decided to leave him out of the equation, a decision I regretted eventually. I opened the door of my bedroom and tiptoed to the kitchen while making sure that the silence of the night is not betrayed. I turned the knob and voila, I’m already in the Bank of Meat for my meat heist.
I looked around like a thief (what was I at that moment?) and moved towards the large silvered-coloured pot. Mummy always make sure that the base of the pots retain their silver colour throughout their shelf lives by scrubbing energetically with an iron sponge.
I scooped a chunk of meat from the soup and dipped it into my mouth, munched it and off it journeyed to my stomach via my receptive oesophagus.
I scooped another chunk and heared a feminine voice shouting my name with a surprised tone. I looked back and saw Mummy standing akimbo at the door. I froze with the meat in-between my thumb and the index fingers with my fingers covered with the red colour of the soup. What better way is it to be caught red-handed?
A spring of thought flew through my mind. Should the meat be returned or swallowed? Nevertheless, I will be punished no matter my decision.