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Emmanuel Daniji Nigeria Content Writer @ Ink&Quill Publications
In Philosophy 4 min read
The Rotten Weight of Hate. A Tomato Lesson.
<p>It was a bright Monday morning at <strong style="background-color: transparent;">TwoCents Nursery &amp; Primary School</strong>, and Teacher <strong style="background-color: transparent;">Queensley Okon</strong> had something unusual planned for her pupils.<br/></p><p><br/></p><p>She walked into the classroom with her usual graceful smile and said,</p><p><em>“Children, this week we are going to do a special assignment. Each of you will bring tomatoes tomorrow. The number of tomatoes you bring will equal the number of people you dislike or even hate. We will learn something important from it.”</em></p><p><br/></p><p>The pupils blinked at her, surprised. Tomatoes? Assignment? Dislike? Their curious faces said it all.</p><p><br/></p><p>---</p><p><br/></p><p><strong>The Next Day – Tomato Parade</strong></p><p><br/></p><p>By 8:00 a.m., the classroom smelled like Mile 12 Market. The children had arrived, each one proudly clutching a plastic bag of tomatoes.</p><p><br/></p><p>Teacher Queensley clapped her hands. “<em>Alright children, come forward one by one and tell us how many tomatoes you brought.</em>”</p><p><br/></p><p>---</p><p><br/></p><p><strong>Oyinloye John</strong> bounced forward first.</p><p><em>“I brought <strong>two tomatoes</strong>, ma!”</em></p><p>Teacher Queensley asked, “<em>And why two, John?</em>”</p><p>He scratched his head. “<em>Because I don’t like my brother when he steals my biscuits… and also the neighbor’s goat. That goat is wicked, ma! It chased me last week!”</em></p><p>The whole class burst into laughter.</p><p><br/></p><p>---</p><p><br/></p><p>Next was <strong>Felix Grace</strong>. She shyly held up her bag.</p><p><em>“I brought <strong>five tomatoes</strong>, ma.”</em></p><p>“Five? Hmm… Grace, that’s a lot. Why?”</p><p>Grace pouted. “<em>Because my cousin always hides my pencils. My neighbor never returns my Barbie doll. My daddy didn’t let me watch cartoons yesterday. My mummy made bitterleaf soup again. And the last tomato is for mosquitoes. I HATE mosquitoes, ma!</em>”</p><p>Even Teacher Queensley couldn’t help but laugh.</p><p><br/></p><p>---</p><p><br/></p><p><strong>Favour Adeyemo</strong> strutted forward like a soldier.</p><p><em>“I brought <strong>ten tomatoes!</strong>”</em></p><p>“<em>Ten?</em>” the class gasped.</p><p>Favour nodded confidently. “<em>Yes, ma. Half of them are for my younger brothers. They break my toys. The rest… hmm… for my enemies in Pro Evolution Soccer game. They always beat me!”</em></p><p>The boys in the class shouted, “<em>Ehn, so you hate us?</em>” and everyone roared with laughter again.</p><p><br/></p><p>---</p><p><br/></p><p><strong>Chidinma Emilia</strong> came next, looking very serious.</p><p><em>“I brought <strong>three tomatoes</strong>, ma.”</em></p><p>“<em>Good girl, that’s not too many</em>,” said Teacher Queensley.</p><p>But Chidinma shook her head. “<em>Actually, I wanted to bring 50, ma. But my mummy said I should respect the price of tomatoes in the market!</em>”</p><p>The classroom erupted into uncontrollable giggles.</p><p><br/></p><p>---</p><p><br/></p><p>Finally, <strong>Zayn De Baptist</strong> marched forward, dragging a giant bag.</p><p>The children gasped. “<em>Zayn, how many?!</em>”</p><p>He announced proudly: “<em>Twenty tomatoes!</em>”</p><p>Teacher Queensley’s eyes widened. “<em>Zayn, my dear, why so many?”</em></p><p>Zayn crossed his arms. “<em>Because I don’t like Arsenal fans, people who eat pizza with pineapple, my uncle who snores, my sister who hides my slippers, and—</em>”</p><p>“<strong>Enough, Zayn!</strong>” the teacher interrupted before the list became a novel.</p><p><br/></p><p>---</p><p><br/></p><p><strong>The Experiment</strong></p><p><br/></p><p>Teacher Queensley said calmly, “<em>Children, from today, you must carry these tomatoes everywhere you go for <strong>two weeks</strong>. Don’t drop them, don’t throw them away. They must go everywhere you go—class, assembly, lunch, even the toilet</em>.”</p><p><br/></p><p>The pupils gasped. “Ehn! Ma! It will spoil now!”</p><p>“<em>Exactly</em>,” Teacher Queensley smiled. “<em>Let’s see how you cope</em>.”</p><p><br/></p><p>---</p><p><br/></p><p><strong>One Week Later</strong></p><p><br/></p><p>The classroom smelled like a rotten market. Flies danced around. The children were miserable.</p><p><br/></p><p>John groaned, <em>“Ma, my tomatoes are smelling like gutter water!”</em></p><p>Grace pinched her nose. <em>“Ma, my mummy said I should not enter her kitchen again with this bag. She chased me outside!”</em></p><p>Favour complained, <em>“The bag is heavy. I can’t even run during break time.”</em></p><p>Chidinma cried, <em>“One tomato melted inside my school bag, now my books smell like stew!</em>”</p><p>Zayn was the loudest. “<em>Ma, even my dog ran away from me! These tomatoes are wicked!</em>”</p><p><br/></p><p>The whole class laughed and cried at the same time.</p><p><br/></p><p>---</p><p><br/></p><p><strong>The Lesson</strong></p><p><br/></p><p>Teacher Queensley gathered them together and spoke gently:</p><p><em>“My dear children, do you see what happened? The more people you dislike, the heavier your tomatoes. The longer you carry them, the more rotten and smelly they become. Hatred is just like this. It is heavy. It stinks. And it hurts you more than the people you hate.”</em></p><p><br/></p><p>She paused and looked at each child.</p><p><em>“The heart is like a garden. If you keep weeds—anger, hatred, bitterness—your garden will stink. But if you forgive, your garden will bloom with joy. So children, get better, not bitter.”</em></p><p><br/></p><p>The children nodded thoughtfully, even though Zayn whispered, “<em>But ma, can I still hate mosquitoes?</em>” and everyone burst out laughing again.</p><p><br/></p><p>---</p><p><br/></p><p><strong>Moral of the Story</strong></p><p><br/></p><ul><li>Hatred is heavy and rots the heart just like tomatoes rot in the bag.</li><li>Forgiveness makes life lighter and sweeter.</li><li>Carrying bitterness only hurts you, not the other person.</li><li>Get better, not bitter.</li></ul><p><br/></p><p>Are there any other lessons you've learnt from this story? Please share with us in the comment section.</p><p><br/></p><p><br/></p>
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The Rotten Weight of Hate. A Tomato Lesson.
By Emmanuel Daniji 4 plays
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