Alfreton smells like fresh air in the summer. Beyond the well-manicured lawns, spacious driveways, and brick walls, the silence stands out. But then again, I find the silence a soothing alternative to the busy Lagos rush.
Today is a beautiful Sunday in July 2022— beautiful enough to take a walk around the neighborhood. The longer I walked down the hilly road searching for a shop, the more I regretted my choice of shoes. I thought I’ll find a shop soon enough and be on my way back home. I had walked for a while before concluding that shops were a luxury around these parts.
A few more blocks down the road, I had something else to worry about apart from my low-heeled stiletto black shoes. Without any warning, a fluffy white dog attached to a leash shows up close behind me, too close for comfort, I’ll say, its owner, a white lady with pink-dyed hair held up in a bun. You see, I find dogs, especially the fluffy ones, cute when they are far away. Too close, and I find myself jittery.
My brother had one when he was very young. I never got to meet the dog, but I heard stories about how everyone, including my parents, loved it. So much so that everyone was moody when it died.
Maybe one day, I’ll find a fluffy dog (or any dog for that matter) that I can be comfortable around, but not today. I picked up the pace, walking as fast as my leg permitted. Thankfully, I found a shop on the next bend and ran in as if I was being chased.
I walked through the store aisles for a few minutes to catch my breath. Not long after, as a matter of routine, I headed straight for the sweet and chocolate section of the store after picking up a few other things. I remember once saying to someone that God was definitely thinking about me when he put the idea of chocolate in the mind of the person who invented it.
My love for sweets and chocolate revealed a side I didn’t even realize was there when I was growing up; greed and a lack of contentment. This lapse led me to do unbecoming things to satisfy my cravings. There are two or three stories I can tell you about this, but I’ll go ahead and tell you one, maybe two.
I’m not particularly sure how old I was when I tasted Mikos sweet for the first time. But I certainly remember how the taste of it made my heart swell. It tasted like heaven. My mum had so graciously given us three each. I don’t know about my siblings, but I finished mine in less than five minutes, wondering what magic portion they must have mixed to make it. The moment the savory taste wore off my tongue, I began plotting how to get some more.
I could have just asked my mum. But for some reason, I didn’t.
Obviously, I had no money of my own at that age. All the cash gifts visitors had ever given us were with my mum for safekeeping. And so, I decided to steal some money from her purse. I waited until everyone was busy or sleeping that afternoon before making my move. As soon as the coast was clear, I walked hurriedly out into the dusty street. My heart was pounding like a drum.
I headed straight for the shop a few blocks from our house. The owner was a young boy in his late twenties. Everyone called him Orogodo. I held out a rumpled hundred naira note to him, my hand shaking like a leaf. I may have stuttered when I told him I wanted to buy Mikos sweet.
I was young. I didn’t know how money worked or that I could use a fraction of a hundred naira to buy a small number of sweets. Orogodo didn’t bother explaining it to me either. He probably thought my parents had sent me. So he gladly packed what seemed to me like 100 small sachets of Mikos sweets in a transparent nylon bag.
My heart started to beat even faster.
Instead of feeling happy that I’ll have so many sweets to enjoy, fear gripped my heart because there was now a possibility that I would get caught and punished for stealing. I wanted to tell Orogodo that I needed only five sachets to quench my craving. But my lips couldn’t move to form the words.
The walk back to the house seemed like a long journey. I didn’t plan to share my loot with my siblings, but I had no other choice. Deep down, I wanted to gather as many accomplices as possible in case I got caught. My siblings, who had no idea of this plot, were enthralled to have more of this newly found taste of the heavenly Mikos sweet. Thankfully, no one caught me this time.
Now to the second story, where I was caught in another act of stealing that involved bars of chocolate.
It was Christmas time. During the festivities, we had several grateful villagers who would come bearing gifts for my dad after another long year of getting free treatments from his private medical clinic. We would also have some boys come to our house dressed like masquerades to dance. They had young escorts who held bowls to solicit money after giving a good show. They went from house to house.
I remember one of the songs they would always sing whenever they saw my siblings and me watching from the balcony. “Doctor, Doctor, Ezigbo Doctor”. My dad never came out to watch, but would always give us money to throw down for them.
One of the gifts my dad received this particular year were bars of chocolate from a woman whose children had sent them from the city. When she left, my mum gave us stern warnings not to touch them until she had prayed over them. And just like that, I became restless. All I could think about were the chocolate bars. I saw where my mum had kept them—on top of the wardrobe in our room.
I was checking the time every few minutes and going to remind my mum to pray on the chocolate bars. The minute she said she would pray for them the next day, I knew in my heart that I was going to steal a bite that night. I wasn’t thinking about the consequences. I just wanted to have a taste of the chocolate from the city.
That night, I woke Enesomi and tried to convince her to join me in my operation. She refused. So I went to Omayena, and after a few words of persuasion, he caved. In no time, we had brought down one of the chocolate bars and taken turns to bite large chunks of it. We wrapped the remaining one up and dropped it back where we found it.
By morning the next day, everyone had found out what we had done. I cannot even begin to explain the shame I felt.
Soon, Omoayena and I were kneeling by a corner of the dining room while awaiting my dad’s verdict. Initially we were threatened that we would be left behind while the rest of the family went to the village. My heart sank even lower into my stomach. Thankfully, after many tearful pleas and promises never to steal again, we were pardoned.
These stories may look like they are about sweets and chocolate. But no, they are about contentment and the lengths a lack of it pushes us to go. Somehow, it also portrays how we relate with our Heavenly Father. God has blessed us with everything, but sometimes we think we need to do bad things to get our hand on those blessings.
In both stories, the sweets and chocolate were within my reach. My parents, who loved me so much, could have easily given them to me if I had asked or exercised more patience.
Everything you’ll ever need for your life is within your reach. All you need to do is ask your loving heavenly Father or learn the ways He has laid down for you to get them. He wants you to have all the good things He has prepared for you. He just doesn’t want you going against His will to do so.
Romans 8:32, speaking about the Father, says “He who did not spare his own Son, but gave him up for all of us, how will he not also, along with him, graciously give us all things?”
It’s an absolutely unconditional love.
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Alfreton in the summer smells like fresh air, and the chocolates here? Well, they taste like heaven.
