Times were hard. It was the kind of difficulty that forced enemies to collaborate and thrive.

My friend Desmond and his roommates frequently fought. But during tough times like these, no one had energy for quarrels.

Initially, Desmond phoned his parents. They were tired of his constant complaints of not having money.

“What happened to the 500 cedis I sent you last week? “ his father quizzed.

” I… I… ” he stammered. He had no response.

His dad hanged up. He was on his own.

Forced to swallow his pride, he started smiling at his roommates.

It was a difficult daily habit he cultivated. Slowing, he was gaining mastery. Smiles became greetings, and greeting became laughter.

Now, he could talk freely talk with his roommates.

The power of tough times.

So, to survive in the fresh new shit they found themselves in, they concocted a plan : put their resources together.

Amuzu had 1 kilo of rice left. Tanko had two onions and a half on a shelf. Yaya had a little vegetable oil tied in a small plain plastic bag.

No one had salt.

But they had some monies they could put together. Desmond broke his piggy bank. Out came a spider and some few coins. His roommates emptied their pockets, and together they counted their donations.

56 cedis. Not bad. They could only live on that for a day. Eat to their fill today. To hell with tomorrow!

Amuzu suggested Yayra go to the market to get some ingredients for the soup.

“Why should it be me?” Yayra protested.

All eyes turned to Tanko. The look on his face warded off every hope that he will take up the task.

And so a compromise was reached : all must go.

And so the broke roommates set off on their expedition to hunt vegetables and any other ingredient that can prepare a solid meal to keep four hungry black men alive for 24 hours.

Their first stop was at the butcher’s shop.

“How much you wan’ buy?” the fulani butcher asked.

Conferring among themselves, they agreed on 20 cedis.

“Twenty cedis!” Amuzu announced.

The fulani clinically dissected the beef, weighed it, and took some off, much to the displeasure of the four hungry buddies.

But before packaging the meat, the butcher asked, “Do you like this part?”

They drew closer to take a look.

A bull’s testicles!

“Oh no!!!! ” the four roommates cried.

The butcher said it was very good meat. In fact, very delicious.

They thought for a while. It was free. They had bought the beef they wanted. This was an addition. Free. They needn’t pay for it. What did they have to lose? After all, if it turns out bad meat, they just dump it in the dustbin.

“OK. Put’em for inside.” Desmond told the butcher.

Amuzu was skeptical. He was waiting for his “I told you so” moment later on.

Off to some other part of the market where the hungry boys bought the rest of the needed ingredients.

Soon, they were back to their hostel. Exhausted.

Tanko was the chef among them. His father once operated a mini Senegalese restaurant in their neighborhood, and he used to help on weekends so he was quite good at cooking.

He fabricated a great meal out of the pieces of vegetables, meat and whatever leftovers he could lay his hangs on.

Amuzu was too hungry to concentrate, so he lay quietly on his bed. Desmond stood by watching Tanko cook, occasionally helping with the peeling of onions or fetching some water for the chef.

Yayra was playing a game on his laptop which played some afrobeats.

The chef seemed to take all his time in the preparations, winning a handful of insults from his hungry and impatient colleagues.

Finally, the wait was over.

Behold, a steamy meal of rice and beef stew on the table!

“Smells nice!” Yayra remarked.

The desk on which they studied at night was now converted into a dinning table around which they sat.

Forgetting to give thanks, they began devouring.

“My God!” Amuzu cried, “The bull’s testicles tasted as delicious as the butcher had described!”

The rest burst into laughter. It was true. It tasted great.

Desmond googled it. One website said the testicle was the richest part of the male. High in protein and vitamins.

It now made sense why the bull’s testicles tasted delicious.

After the meal, the roommates reclined on their beds, sweating and weakened from overeating. 

The four roommates spent the rest of the day devising how to raise money to survive the next few days left to the end of the semester.

They were united on one issue : if they ever lay hands on money again, a bull’s testicles would be first on the list of ingredients to buy for their survival.