OPINION: If The Sources Of Revenue Are Unearned, Sharing Is Never Equitable, By Anayo Nwosu

Tochukwu my brother was a thorn in my flesh. He was miles ahead of me in pranks play even though I prided myself as his senior and the wiser one. I miss him so much.

I still wonder who told Tochukwu as a three old that the smaller silver coloured 5 kobo coin was more valuable than the bigger bronze coloured 1 kobo.

There was this uncle of ours that visited twice in the year to see our mother and would not leave without giving us gift of coins. He would bring out two coins from his pocket, 1 kobo and 5 kobo and would ask me to choose one and my brother would take the other.


Uncle Bob never told me that the bigger 1 kobo I  always chose was of lower value than the smaller 5 kobo Tochukwu normally chose. I wrongly adjudged that the value of coin by its size just like the way some people misjudge the size of a man's ogbe ndi by height.

How would I know that I was shortchanging myself when my choice was enough to buy me "ato-n'ime-otu" also known as "three-in-one" bread which size is similar to that of table tennis or lawn tennis balls? Unlike my younger brother, I measured my needs using bread as yardstick.

I was so ashamed of myself when Mrs. Ngozi Jiagbogu, my Primary 1 class teacher convinced me that 5kobo coin was equivalent to five coins of 1 kobo. I felt cheated by Tochukwu. He must pay for this. He must receive beating.

But the loss was self inflicted.

Uncle Bob was all smiles when next he came around and I chose the 5 kobo instead of the big for nothing 1 kobo.

I watched with a triumphant gaze after picking my share and awaiting my brother to take his 1 kobo. After all, nature had bestowed on me the right to choose first.

Instead of picking the leftover 1 kobo, Tochukwu shrieked a loud cry of protest.

He wanted my 5 kobo.

He wanted me to keep making losses through making wrong choices.

My brother would not hear that he had profited from my wrong choices for two years.

Tochukwu promptly demanded for a review and I would not accept.

Even if there was going to be a change in our methodology of making choices or the way we picked coins from the palm of our generous uncle, it couldn't be done until after two years. I needed to recoup what I had lost in making wrong choices.

I could recall that Uncle Bob was all smiles as I argued with Tochukwu my junior brother. He did not say a word. But he gave me my 5 kobo while dropping Tochukwu's 1 kobo on the table.

He was so such that Tochukwu would later come pick his share when he came back to his senses.

When Uncle Ben left, Tochukwu, my brother predictably picked his 1 kobo and called me aside. He demanded that we restructure the sharing formula.

I laughed off my brother's demand that my traditional right be reviewed. Impossible!

I boldly told Tochukwu to pray harder so that our mum would have another son so that he would have someone below him that would take over from him the lamentation of a younger brother. I told him to wait for his own turn.

While Tochukwu grumbled that I refused meaningful negotiation, I kept throwing up my sword in the air.  I was very happy and profoundly grateful to my teacher for opening my eyes to my self-inflicted losses over the period of two years.

I had configured my mind and was calculating in advance, how much I would get from Uncle Ben twice in a year even though it was less frequent than the way Nigeria receives revenues from oil.

While projecting how much I would make using my seniority to Tochukwu, I forgot to notice that Uncle Ben, the man that yielded the revenues, was getting old.

Then, the unexpected happened.

Uncle Ben slipped his disc and couldn't walk normally and couldn't visit us during Easter and at Christmas. He didn't die but could not give us money again.

Tochukwu and I were then forced to think of other ways of earning money which included tapping some coins from our mother's purse.

Stealing our mother's coins was not easy. One of us needed to watch and monitor Mama, while the other would do the tapping. We had to strategize on timing and the volume.

In this type of revenue that required co-operation in earnings and in suffering, my brother and I had to share equally just as we taking turns in receiving floggings from our mother. Seniority meant nothing at this time.

Mama Obiora would always find out that her money was missing.

Meanwhile, I had refunded my mother in a million fold, all my brother and I had stolen from her four decades ago.