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71
Student @ Redeemers university
Dear Chicken, Beware of Christmas
<p><br/></p><p>My mum is approaching the empty nest phase of life. My dad doesn’t live in Nigeria, so the house once loud, chaotic, and full has become painfully quiet. Silence became her new roommate. She needed company.
</p><p>She doesn’t like dogs, So she got chickens.
</p><p>Not for farming.
</p><p>Not for profit.
</p><p>For emotional support.
</p><p>These chickens were not ordinary. They were raised like heirs to a throne. My mum carved out an entire room for them in the boys’ quarters a whole roomcomplete with a toilet and bathroom, as if one day a chicken might wake up, sigh deeply, and say, “Let me freshen up.”
</p><p>They ate the best feed money could buy. Sometimes, when food was especially good, she fed them straight from her own pot. At some point, we named them because once you name something, you are emotionally invested. Or so we thought.
</p><p>By June, the chickens understood power.
</p><p>They walked into the kitchen whenever they pleased. They scattered their feces across the compound like abstract art. They feared nothing. Why would they? No one had ever touched them. They were protected by love, routine, and my mother’s soft heart.
</p><p>The only victim in this arrangement was my younger brother, who cleaned up after them. If you were expecting me to help, I’m sorry to disappoint, I have a strong policy against suffering I did not create.
</p><p>Then came December 24th.
</p><p>At about 8:30 a.m., my mum opened the kitchen door. Five chickens entered with confidence, unaware they were walking into history. Only two came back out.
</p><p>The remaining three were seasoned, marinated, and spiritually prepared.
</p><p>Tomorrow, I will eat them for Christmas.
</p><p>I feel conflicted. These chickens had been royalty since June. They lived safely. They trusted the house. They trusted my mum. They did not know that love in December has an expiry date.
</p><p>There is something deeply ironic about celebrating the birth of the Prince of Peace by quietly sacrificing millions of chickens across the world. On Christmas Day, families gather to preach love, while pots across the nation bubble with betrayal.
</p><p>So yes
</p><p>Christmas is a season of joy.
</p><p>A season of giving.
</p><p>A season of hope.
</p><p>But to chickens everywhere,
</p><p>it is a season of final notices.
</p><p>Dear chicken,
</p><p>beware of Christmas.
</p><p><br/></p><p>
</p>
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