GIVE HIM THE CHICKEN WHILE HE IS ALIVE NOT THE COW AT HIS FUNERAL
By Otunba (Dr) Abdulfalil Abayomi Odunowo
Nigeria must confront a painful habit: we often spend more celebrating the dead than we ever spent saving or supporting them while they lived.
An African proverb captures it with devastating clarity:
“It is better to give someone a chicken while he is alive than to donate a cow at his funeral.”
Somewhere today, someone desperately needs that chicken. Tomorrow, when they are gone, people will suddenly find money for the cow.
A man can struggle for years and no one forms a committee. He loses his job. No committee. His business collapses. No committee. His children are sent home from school. No committee. He falls sick and cannot afford treatment. Still nothing. Messages for help are ignored or met with “Things are hard for everybody.” Sometimes he stops asking.
Then he dies.
Within hours a WhatsApp group appears: “Committee of Friends for the Burial of Late…” Chairman, secretary, treasurer appointed. Bank account circulated. People who could not spare ₦20,000 for his medication now contribute ₦100,000 towards the funeral. Those who never visited him in hospital travel long distances for the burial. A cow is bought, canopies hired, musicians booked, food and drinks flow. Beautiful banners go up. Tributes pour out: “He was such a wonderful man.” “We will never forget him.”
The question that should trouble us is simpler: Were we there for him when it mattered?
There is nothing wrong with dignified burials. Respect for the dead is part of our culture. But dignity need not become extravagance, especially when generosity arrives too late. The dead cannot eat the cow, hear the music, admire the coffin, or read the glowing tributes. Love is most valuable when the person can still experience it.
Imagine if a fraction of what we mobiles for funerals was mobilised while people were struggling. Imagine a different kind of committee a Living Committee of Friends. Ten friends make ten calls when someone loses a job. Twenty friends contribute modestly to revive a collapsed business. Instead of waiting to raise ₦5 million for a funeral, friends raise the ₦1 million needed for urgent treatment. Friends quietly help with school fees. Someone notices when an elderly colleague disappears and goes to find out why. When a once-successful friend withdraws, someone knocks on the door instead of gossiping.
Not everyone who needs help will ask. Pride is real. The man who once paid other people’s fees may not know how to ask for his own child’s. The woman who employed twenty people may struggle to admit her business has failed. The perpetual giver may feel humiliated becoming the receiver. So they withdraw. Society says, “He has changed.” Often it is the circumstances that have changed. That is when friendship must become more than photographs and WhatsApp greetings. That is when someone should ask, “My brother, are you truly okay?” — and stay long enough to hear the answer.
We have perfected posthumous generosity: naming buildings, establishing foundations, organising memorial lectures, publishing full-page tributes. Why must appreciation wait for an obituary? Tell people what they mean to you while they can still hear it. Honour mentors while they can witness it. Visit parents while they can embrace you. Help friends while the help can still change their circumstances.
There are people walking among us who do not need monuments. They need opportunities. They do not need funeral donations; they need medical assistance. They do not need condolence messages; they need a telephone call. They do not need expensive wreaths; they need groceries. They do not need cows; they need chickens.
And the chicken is not always money. It may be a recommendation, a business introduction, a job lead, a scholarship, a customer, a hospital bill, a bag of food, an hour of your time, or simply sitting beside someone and saying, “You will not face this alone.”
Every association, alumni group, professional body and social club should ask itself: If we can mobilise millions when one of us dies, why can we not mobilise thousands when one of us is struggling to stay alive? Imagine welfare structures that exist before anyone dies. Imagine alumni associations working as hard to find employment for members as they do organising reunions. Imagine emergency medical funds. Imagine wealthy friends occasionally asking, “Who among us is quietly struggling?”
That would be real community.
Somebody reading this has been postponing a call. Make it today. Someone knows a former colleague whose circumstances have deteriorated. Check on them. Someone can make an introduction that might open a door. Make it. Someone knows a family facing medical bills. Gather friends now. Someone has an elderly parent who receives money but needs companionship. Visit.
Form the Committee of Friends before the funeral. Gather when the job is lost, the business is failing, sickness arrives, school fees become impossible, or life simply becomes heavy. Then, when the inevitable day comes, we will not stand beside the grave carrying the regret of knowing the person we are spending millions to bury once needed only thousands to survive.
A magnificent funeral cannot compensate for neglected friendship. A thousand glowing tributes cannot replace one act of kindness delivered when it mattered. No matter how fat the cow we bring to the funeral, it can never replace the little chicken we refused to give while our friend was alive.
Give the chicken today. Make the call today. Open the door today. Show the love today.
The greatest tribute we can offer another human being is not what we do after they die. It is what we are willing to do while they are still here.
Otunba (Dr.) Abdulfalil Abayomi Odunowo Public Affairs Commentator & Community Advocate
