Integrity

One day, our mother or better still, master brought in a new pot. She was extremely beautiful and clean. The spoons, the forks, everyone was like,  'wow, she's cool'. They all became jealous of her.
She looked at everyone with naivety and unreserved tenderness. But she soon became jealous, why?? Because she was the favourite of our master due to which we were despised in her eyes.
Not so long, she started the job and she became pregnant with a heavy weight of jollof rice – how sweet that was. I was just on my own patched up in the corner where I was stashed when she shouted at me " hey fool, don't stare at me like that, you can never be as precious as I am", she said, angrily blushing. Everyone else got angry and started picking a fight with her. It was so intense that when our master came back, the kitchen was disorganized.  But what can I do, I took that disgrace and shove it into my belly waiting for the day I will vomit it.
Days after days, the once beautiful became impaired and acheiric. It was so horrible that not even the sun would not allow it's rays to shine on her grotty body. She had gone through cycles of washing and cooking; passed through fire and heat; she was already difformed. That was her problem anyways.
My day finally came. A grand party! Everyone was coming and so I was pretty much of service. As expected, they took me out and made me do my job which none other would ever do. After I was let go, every clapped for me and I was, as usual, smiling.
That night, the difformed pot whispered gently and said " are you asleep". I grunted. "I am sorry for the other day, very sorry. But then why does everyone respect you. You are  dark, ridiculously fat, rigidly thin. I don't get it." I got angry - I was pissed off.
So I replied " everyone here including you and I was once new, clean and fresh. But as the day goes by, you find  the spoons helplessly dirty covered with soggy pap; the forks tightly glued to leftover cakes and noodles; the plates rolling around as flies and mosquitoes chase them; even you, your outside becomes black and your inside covered with shaky rice and vegs. You guys will always be washed clean, no offense. But the problem is, you will still go back to being dirty."
However, for me, I will always be black, I will remain myself for the rest of my life but you won't, that's why you will be thrown out this morning." I laughed.
That morning, our beautiful master threw the ugly pot out, never to be seen, never to intimidate. She was the  fourth of her size to be thrown out.

Moral of the story
Integrity is key. Don't be purple pink. Don't be uselessly useful. Don't let people stare in confusion as to who you are. Don't be water today and fire tomorrow. Be 'a' one,  not 'every' one, not 'any' one, not 'some' one.

Muse by; Pst Egbunu Emmanuel

28/07/19
© LivingWitness
The Writer