A Tribute To Hunger.

Nobody knows how much my stomach churned that day, creating offensive symphonies. It sang an unfortunate melody that sounded 'krrrrr-krrrr' again and again.

I could even feel my stomach digesting itself with anger. Nothing could pacify the wrath of hunger that forbidden morning. I call it forbidden because of what I eventually did to save myself from hunger, for it was every man for himself. Hunger is merciless; it punishes young and old alike, literate and illiterate, short or tall, rich and poor. Everyone seems to be a potential victim of hunger. 

See, one man down, hunger just struck. This new victim of hunger seems to be hypoglycemic. Person don faint be that! The record shows he hasn't eaten for three days now. Welcome to my ghetto; our motto remains 'man shall not live by bread alone.

Not even a morsel of dry bread did I get from the trash can to redeem me from the painful lashes hunger gave me that day. Ah! I saw men like trees.

Do you know the entourage of hunger? It first starts with a gentle warning to eat. And if you ignore it, it strikes! It strikes like a mafia. Common! Don't look at me like you are oblivious to what I'm talking about. 

I was determined to do anything to eat. Now, anything is an umbrella word that has so many synonyms. One of the anything I decided to do that morning was to steal or even kill. Please, just give me food anyway! I must answer the clarion call of my intestines. Wait, have you ever been so hungry?

I staggered, for I was hungry to stupor, seems like a man will have to live by bread today. I jostled my teenage body through the sea of people looking for a fat pocket. I became an archaeologist in an instant! I was looking for anyone's pocket to pick. I strengthened my resolve with these words, 'if I die today, make them tell my mama say na hunger cause amLas las, something go kill manNa hunger cause am, I no be thief. At least, make I die for a noble reason, make e be say na cos of food!"

At last! A full pocket was in sight, and I was about to take what wasn't mine. As I stretched forth my shaky hands to steal, only one thing was my drive and motivation - it was hunger! With a roar, a market woman shouted, yaaayyy! Oga, that boy wey dey run go don carry your money. Make una hold am, see thief o.'

I doubled my haste at the revelation that I've been 'busted'. Omo, see race! Dem say man wey never chop no suppose get strength, but as dem wan catch me, I run pass Usain bolt

Nearly doesn't kill a bird, e remain small wey I for escape na e dem catch me. In the twinkling of an eye, and with the snap of a finger, I was embraced with a slap, and immediately, I was almost lifeless on the ground. In confession, I whispered with no strength to my confiscators, 'abeg, make una give me food first, then arrest me later. Hunger just stripped me of my integrity. Before becoming unconscious, the last thing I remember was what a passer-by said; he lamented thus, 'most grievous of all deaths is to die of hunger. It is this same hunger that makes a thief out of any man.'

Again, I ask, have you ever been so hungry?

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