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A Sallah Story

A Sallah Story image

Nope, that picture has nothing to do with this post.

You know how you Christians have a Christmas story, well I’m a muslim and I have a sallah story. Those stories you tell when the whole family is around for sallah. Stories that almost everyone there already knows but someone still tells it from time to time and nobody complains because you all still like it. This is one of those stories.

A typical sallah day in my house starts after my Popcy has killed the rams. There is a ram that is killed to be shared by my dad among family members, that is from my mum to my aunts, uncles, sisters, cousins, nephews, nieces, everybody. The size of the meat you get depends on the number of rams killed, what you do with your share is your business.

            Now, your next course of action if you’re a young guy like me depends on you. Are you going to fry it and keep it so you can give your friends when they come over? Are you going to use it to make barbecue or suya? Are you going to eat it raw? It’s your decision.

The easiest thing to do is to hand over your meat to my mumcy, that way anytime you need meat you just go over to her and she keeps giving you since you have meat with her, that is, till she snaps and tells you have exceeded the amount of meat you have with her which is still negotiable or you can keep your meat to yourself and process it by yourself and risk her not giving you anything out of hers’ which is also negotiable, but it has to do with a lot of begging.

If you pick this second option, you still run the risk of having pieces of your meat stolen by other people who know where you kept it after processing it.

I’ll soon get to the actual story but I need to paint you a picture of how everything goes down first so you can understand it better. The only meat that can’t be stolen is the one in mum’s room which is also negotiable depending on how good a thief you are, every other person’s meat is fair game as long as you steal it one at a time to give the owner the chance to change his/her hiding spot. Finally, most guys like myself can’t sadly process the raw meat ourselves, so you have to give my sister or nieces or aunts to help you with that. They ask for a share of your meat as payment even if you know they’ve probably stolen out of it while they were helping you process it.

            Now to the actual story, during this particular sallah, a cousin of mine decided to go with option 2. He could actually process the meat himself, he’s a good cook. His plan was to take all the meat with him when he’s going back to school to live like a king among his friends with it for a while. So, he did all the boiling and frying and every other thing they do to it the day after sallah and managed to keep it out of reach for everyone, he kept changing the places he hid the meat when he went out, so it will be hard to figure out and when he was home it was always with him. Finally, the day he was to leave for school comes, he packs his stuff, I drop him off where he boards a bus to his school (we stay in Lagos, his school is in Osun). I get back home and lo and behold, he left the meat on the bed. While he was packing he had forgotten to put it in his bag. Everybody at home called him to thank him for the meat, it was the least we could do before we descended on it.

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Do you have a sallah story? Make use of the comment section.



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