My house was about to be locked, just because I was not able to raise rent. I posted it on Facebook seeking for help, but all I got was 2likes and 0comments.
So I sent 120 messages to friends on my contact list, requesting for a loan of N400,000. Sadly, only 10people replied. 6 out of the 10 claimed they couldn’t help. Only 1 out of the 4 who said they could help actually gave me some money but the rest only gave me excuses and never picked my calls. Eventually, my house was locked. I had no where to sleep. I walked in the dark, seeking options and suddenly, a heavy storm carried me away and I died.
The next day, news quickly spread around that I had died. 2220 people posted on my wall how they knew me. How great I was. A committee is formed by my “loyal” friends who quickly raised N1,200,000 via donations, to feed guests at my funeral. My colleagues at work teamed-up and brought another N300,000 for coffin, tents and chairs. I am buried in a coffin worth N100,000.
My relatives who rarely met, met, for my send-off and contributed an extra N150,000.
Everyone wants to volunteer in order to appear they are helping out. The Youth also, printed T-shirts with my image, each T-Shirt costing N1,500. About 600 youths paid, so the T-shirt man makes N150,000 profit from my death. Everyone wants to speak at my funeral.
There was drama all over from people who never knew how I survived. There was rumour that I was murdered by my friends. Also people falsely accused my successful relatives of sacrificing me. Wonderful speeches were made on how talented I was even those who never attended my events. The few friends who supported me in life didn’t get the chance to speak during my funeral although they knew the Truth. Infact, they were the prime suspects in my death.
Show love to people while they live. Eat with them when they still have teeth and laugh with them while they can do the same.