Christmas Chicken

Hey CheckMates, it's Check Edgar here!

In this hilarious, chaotic, and entrepreneurial episode of Why Am I Still Single?, I share the unbelievable story of how I became Lagos's most unlikely Christmas delivery man. What was supposed to be a simple side hustle selling 50 chickens for Christmas quickly turned into house-to-house chaos, awkward encounters, and an unexpected marriage proposal.

From customers who thought meeting me was part of the package to the Surulere woman who insulted both me and my chicken to using my baritone voice to sell extra birds to church members who still owe me money till today. This episode is packed with madness, hustle, and the kind of Christmas stress only Lagos can provide.

But the real story? Meeting Naomi and her unforgettable mother, Mrs. Okonkwo, who offered to pay for our ENTIRE wedding if I marry her daughter after delivering just ONE chicken to their house.

The real question is: Can selling chickens lead to finding love or just more wahala?

If you've ever started a business that spiralled out of control, been mistaken for an Uber driver while doing your own deliveries, or had a parent try to arrange your marriage on the spot, this episode will have you laughing from start to finish.

Send your thoughts and stories to edgar@checkedgar.com
I might read them during T.G.I.F. 4.

🎧 Music & sound design by Isaac Runsewe.
 🎨 Episode artwork by Oritsemisan Enemigin.
 🎙️ Podcast created by Edgar Eriakha

Transcript

EDGAR: 0:09

Number 47… Number 47… Where is number 47?! Lagos and the annoying way they number their houses. Okay! Edgar, calm down. Let's take it easy! I just passed number 23... then suddenly I'm seeing number 56. How does that even make sense?! Who numbered these houses? It's either the person was drunk or the person doesn't know math. God! And this hot sun is not even helping matters. "House number 47, yellow building with brown gate, beside the big mango tree." Big mango tree… big mango tree… Ah! Every house in Lagos has a mango tree! That's like saying "the house beside oxygen." WHICH ONE?! And for God's sake, why is her number not going through? I called her before leaving the house and told her, "I am coming oh, hold your phone oh!" She said, "Okay." Now I am in the middle of where I don't know, looking for a mango tree and a brown gate when everyone is at home with the love of their lives, watching movies and eating chicken. Hey, better shut up! You're not helping! If you like, start your own podcast and complain there! God knows how much I hate carrying fowl! Wait… yellow building! BROWN GATE! Finally! Thank you, Jesus! Hello! Good afternoon! Anybody home?!

Mrs Adenike: 1:06

Who is there? I am coming! Hi, good afternoon. Who are you looking for please?

EDGAR: 1:25

Good afternoon, Ma. I'm Edgar. Edgar Eriakha. I'm here to deliver your Christmas chicken. We spoke on the phone this morning. I told you I was on my way. Sorry, are you Mrs Adenike?

Mrs Adenike: 1:35

Yes, I am. So sorry, I am sure you must have been calling my line. I left my phone in the room; I have been in the kitchen all day. What did you say your name was again?

EDGAR: 1:44

Edgar… Edgar Eriakha!

Mrs Adenike: 1:54

EDGAR?! The podcast Edgar?! CHECK EDGAR?!

EDGAR: 2:03

Emm… yes, Ma. That's me.

Mrs Adenike: 2:13

The Edgar with this commanding and amazing baritone that can shake up the whole room when he speaks?

EDGAR: 2:22

Emm… yh.

Mrs Adenike: 2:32

The Edgar that used to prank call different women till they left their boyfriends for you?

EDGAR: 2:41

Emm… yh.

Mrs Adenike: 2:51

The same Edgar that loves to manipulate his way into the hearts of women, making them feel special and fly every time?

EDGAR: 3:00

Emm… yeah, but I do not manipulate women.

Mrs Adenike: 3:10

Ha! My daughter will not believe this! So you're the one delivering chickens now? What happened to the podcast? Oh my God! Are you now a dispatch rider? Is the economy that bad?

EDGAR: 3:20

Ma! The podcast is still running, ma. This is just one of the small businesses I own and run on the side. And I am not a dispatch rider. I couldn't find any of them, so I decided to drive myself. I parked somewhere around.

Mrs Adenike: 3:29

Wow! My Christmas came early then. I feel blessed. By the way, I am a big lover of your voice; there is something it does to me. It makes me lose my balance sometimes. Ahh! Sorry, do you have a girlfriend now?

EDGAR: 3:39

Ma, please… I would rather not talk about that. It's been a long day. I've been walking around your street for 30 minutes looking for number 47. The sun is killing me, and my back hurts like mad!

Mrs Adenike: 3:48

Ah ah! Edgar, you're not serious! Have you been walking for 30 minutes? In this sun? On Christmas Day?

EDGAR: 3:58

Yes, ma! Thirty full minutes! I passed number 23, then suddenly I saw 56. Then I saw 12. Then 89. Thank you for sharing the description; I would have been so lost.

Mrs Adenike: 4:07

You are really hilarious and cute. Who would have thought I would end the year seeing a celebrity, let alone a real superstar like Edgar, bringing chicken to my house?

EDGAR: 4:17

Honestly, ma. I'm just happy I finally found you. Here's your chicken. Fresh. Alive. And very upset—just like me.

Mrs Adenike: 4:26

Edgar, you're not well! Why don't you come inside and allow me to feed you and then give you a little deep-tissue massage? What do you think?

EDGAR: 4:36

Ah, thank you, ma. But I have so many other deliveries to do today. Maybe some other time, ma.

Mrs Adenike: 4:45

Edgar, don't be shy; don't worry, I won't bite you. You claim the sun has made you weak and your back hurts; why don't you let me treat you nicely and give you strength, ehn?

EDGAR: 4:55

Hmm! I would be fine. I need to start going! Thank you so much for purchasing the fowl from Check Edgar Farms. Have a blessed day ahead.

Mrs Adenike: 5:04

I love skinny, stubborn men. I do not take no for an answer, but I will let you go. When you're done for the day's job, if you really need to rest, you know the house to knock on. No 47, yellow building, brown gate.

EDGAR: 5:14

Merry Christmas, Mrs Adenike!

Mrs Adenike: 5:23

Edgar, learn to sell chicken! Don't be a chicken!

EDGAR: 5:33

Sell chicken! Don't be a chicken! Sell chicken! Don't be a chicken! Hello! Mrs Adenike, are you there? Ladies and gentlemen, Checkmates! Welcome back to another episode of Why Am I Still Single? — the only podcast where my life choices are the entertainment, and you… Yes, YOU… are the judges, the jury, and sometimes… the executioners. Merry Christmas and a happy New Year to all CheckMates, fans, lovers, exes, and everyone listening right now to the second-best podcast in the world. this is not your regular motivational podcast. I'm not here to tell you how to find love or become your best self. As a matter of fact, I am here to do the direct opposite. I am here to tell you how NOT to find love, and most importantly, do NOT be your best self because the world doesn't deserve it. Yes! Take a look at me. I am a young, handsome, brilliant, hardworking, amazing man looking for a lady to love and marry. Every day, I keep striking out one item from my spec list to show you how desperate I am to be in love, yet nothing happens! Nobody wants to date or marry me. And if they show you the men they are with, most of them look like my father. I don't understand women of this generation anymore. What do Nigerian women really want? Am I not good enough? Now, today's episode… (Chuckles) CheckMates, today's episode is special. Very special. Because this time, I didn't just embarrass myself in front of one person. No. I embarrassed myself in front of the entire city of Lagos. House by house. Street by street. Chicken by chicken. Chicken Santa. Now, before you start thinking, "Ah, Edgar went on a date, met a fine babe, and they had chicken for lunch," let me stop you right there. This episode has nothing to do with restaurants or going on a date. In this episode, I spent most of my time outside under the hot sun trying to sell and deliver fowl to my customers. Yes, I started a small farm in October. By the way, the drama in the montage with Mrs Adenike you just listened to is not a true story. If you have been listening to the podcast for a while, you know I love to start the podcast dramatically. So nobody offered me a massage or anything like that. So today's episode includes different stories in my attempt to become a businessman, especially the story of one of my customers, Naomi, who bought chicken from me in December. However, the story is more about Naomi's mother than Naomi… (Laughs). Her mother is the real star of this episode. But we'll get to that. First of all, let us talk about Christmas, the plans I had for Christmas, and how I started a farm business in October. This Christmas, while you were unwrapping gifts, I was de-feathering chickens. While you were watching movies and eating chicken, I was killing and selling chicken. While you were with the love of your life, singing sweet songs and Christmas carols, I was asking ChatGPT to teach me how to speak like a chicken so that I can beg the chickens to reduce their noise and stop shitting in my car. Why am I still single? I chose to sell chicken and became a chicken. Stay with me, CheckMates. This is Why Am I Still Single? My name is Check Edgar, and Edgar doesn't lie! Alright, let's go straight into it. So, how did you celebrate your Christmas? Where did you go? Who did you visit? What did you eat? To the married ones amongst us, what gift did your partner give you? What gift did you give your partner? Did you two have a Christmas photo shoot? Please share your answers in the comment section on my website. Yes, you can now share comments on the website. www.checkedgar.com. I will appreciate it if you listen to the podcast on my website. Now, for those of you who are single like me, what did you do on Christmas Day? Did your boyfriend come over? Did he buy you anything? Watch movies, go out, fornicate? Yes! I know you did that. Is it not you? Your mates are opening their legs to cars, houses, and other expensive gifts; you are opening your legs to perfume. Perfume!!! While others were celebrating the Lord Jesus Christ, the reason for the season. You decided to use the opportunity to be sleeping around with man, just because he said he loves you to the moon and back (hiss). Anyways, that's your own business. I cannot relate. Speaking of business, December was a very stressful month for me for so many reasons. Don't get me wrong; I made good money from my business, but it wasn't the original plan at all. As a matter of fact, what I did that Christmas week was far from the things I had written down and planned to do. The way I imagined my Christmas ehn. I was hoping that before Christmas, I would have been dating one fine girl; let's just call her Cynthia! So Cynthia would come over to my house, and then she would cook different amazing meals. From hot jollof rice to Mr. Biggs' fried rice to Iya Taofeek's fried chicken with special salad. Then there will be lots of things to eat and drink. As I am eating hot burial jollof rice, I will be sipping cold Fanta or juice mortuary standard. Chilled. Then, while you single people are throwing bangers, making noise, and disturbing the environment, I will be eating banga soup with better starch. Chai! Cynthia will enter my bedroom with a tray of food and sit on my leg. Cynthia will now look at me and say—

CYNTHIA: 8:34

Baby, your food is ready; please, can I feed you?

EDGAR: 8:43

Me too, I will now form tired, spread leg and open my mouth like I just saw Egungun! Small, small, Cynthia will be cutting the starch and banga soup in my mouth. I will just be there, swallowing. Cynthia will say—

CYNTHIA: 8:53

Baby, open your mouth, joor! Ah!

EDGAR: 9:02

I will now form tired and uninterested. She will now say—

CYNTHIA: 9:12

Baby, if you really love me, just take one more, please, baby! Ah!

EDGAR: 9:21

I will now open my mouth and swallow it. She will now bring my cup of cold juice to my mouth and beg me to take a little sip before she helps me digest it with a little holy kiss! Omo, see better romance for our Lord Jesus Christ on Christmas Day! Cynthia will now ask me—

CYNTHIA: 9:40

Baby, do you want fish, turkey, or chicken?

EDGAR: 9:50

I will smile and say, "Baby, I don't want to eat them; I want to eat you!" Omo! As we are singing carols and praising God, we are doing first-class romance. I can imagine myself having an amazing time with my babe that day. We would put our phones on silent, with no distractions. Just love! Real, good, Christmas love! Sadly, my Christmas did not happen like that. Cynthia, I did not see let alone Banga soup, starch, or even a holy kiss to wash down the cold juice. While you all ate three times that day, I only ate in the evening, consoling myself by listening to Davido. Wait... that's 001 listening to 001. Chai! I spent my day on the roads of Lagos looking for people who paid for Christmas chicken! So why and how did I end up selling chickens during Christmas like some kind of festive poultry Santa Claus? Well, let me take you back a bit. So in October 2025, I had a call with my mom. Now, for those of you who know my mom or heard me talk about my mom on the podcast, you should be aware that my parents are farmers, especially my mom. She has been doing this for years now. I think she started her poultry farm back in 2005 or 2006—honestly, I can't remember the exact year, but what I do know is that my mother has been raising chickens longer than some of you have been alive. My father recently retired and also started his own poultry farm. Separate from my mother's farm. Now, why they're running two separate farms instead of working together is a story for another day. Edo people and their problems—I'm not getting into that wahala. But the point is, poultry farming is a family business. So one day, my mom called me and said that she wanted me to start my own poultry farm with her. She said she wanted me to buy chicks, breed them, and sell them for Christmas.

MOM: 10:57

Edgar Bobo, if you are ready to buy 50 birds before December, they will be big, and you can make good money. Enough money to find the perfect Lagos woman-friend.

EDGAR: 11:06

Now, I wasn't interested because the poultry business isn't as simple as it looks. You have to feed the chicks daily, give them water, and make sure they do not fall sick or suddenly die. I was so busy with work as a presenter with TVC that I felt it was impossible to do that and still visit the farm regularly. It is too demanding and stressful. As for my mother teasing me about using the money to find the perfect Lagos girlfriend or women friend, as she calls them, well, one day I will tell you guys the backstory behind the jab my mother threw that day. So I told her I wasn't interested, but my mother convinced me to do it. She said she would help set it up on her farm in Ibadan and raise them for me. She also promised to send them to Lagos when they are ready. All she wanted was for me to send her the money whenever she asked me for it. For some reason, I liked the idea. So I paid for 50 birds; that's about 75,000 Naira in October. Sent her money for feeding and some other things. She was going to house them so I wouldn't have to pay for them. When she told me she had started taking care of them, you needed to see the way I was raising my shoulders like one serious businessman. I started planning how to spend my money at Christmas. From jollof rice to fried rice to chicken peri-peri, and then, of course, plans to paint the city red and blue for my Cynthia! I was already thinking of how to start an Instagram series on how to be a successful entrepreneur in poultry farming, with the title "Turn Your Chicks to Chickens in 60 Days!" Omo, I was feeling myself because of 50 birds! 50! My mom, who was helping me, had over 5000 birds, but I was forming CEO because of 50 (hiss). My brain did not tell me that raising the birds is the first part of the job and that I will have to market them to people. That no matter how fantastic your product is, if people are not aware, nobody will buy. In my mind, I was just thinking about how I would spend the money on Cynthia and swallow banga and starch. October ended, and I didn't market my birds. November ended, and I didn't market my birds. The first two weeks of December passed, and I still didn't market my birds. It wasn't until my mom called me to ask me if people had started placing orders that my head adjusted. That was when the scales fell from my eyes! I told her I had not told anyone yet. She just laughed at me like, "This one is not ready," she said—

MOM: 12:13

Edgar Bobo, I hope you're not relying on your social media fans! They love you for your comedy and your voice, not your business, oh!

EDGAR: 12:22

That was when my brain settled. Immediately, I started marketing; I posted it on my social media and communities and sent a BC to all my contacts. I shared it on my status and begged my friends to help with reposting. Mind you, this was December 23rd, two days before Christmas. Most of the responses I got were "Oh, Edgar, I already bought my Christmas chicken; you didn't talk on time," or "Don't worry, next year I will buy from you." Some even had the guts to ask me if the fowl was coming with a free crate of eggs or a Christmas cap. Some thought it was a prank and that I was teasing them. Guys, it wasn't easy. Marketing was hard and stressful! My mom sent 45 birds, as 5 birds had died. So that night on the 23rd, standing in front of my house with 45 live chickens in cages, looking at me like I was their worst nightmare. And honestly? The feeling was mutual. I'm scared of chickens. Especially local ones. Yes, me. Edgar. The same Edgar that has survived heartbreak, ghosting, and spiritual attacks from exes—I am terrified of stubborn chickens. Especially the ones that look at you with those crazy eyes like they're planning your downfall. So, in order not to look like a chicken myself, I had to call Fela to come assist me and carry my birds with me. We took them to a nearby farm and paid the farm owner to feed them daily for me. Now, little by little, some people started to send in requests. Some were from Instagram, some from Facebook, and some got my number from their friends. MC Lively bought two chickens from me; Officer Woos bought one, and then some other celebrities paid too. The biggest problem was how to deliver the chicken to them. Use dispatch riders to deliver the chickens. But December in Lagos? My brother, the dispatch riders were UNAVAILABLE. Everyone was busy. Everyone was "on holiday." Everyone had "gone to the village." Especially on Christmas Day! So I had no choice; if I wanted to make money, I had to do it myself. I had to stop being a chicken to sell the chicken! I, Check Edgar, had to become a deliveryman. A poultry deliveryman. Santa Claus… but with chickens instead of toys. And that, my CheckMates, is how the madness began. So I started delivering. After my morning show, Wake Up Nigeria, at 9 am on TVC that Christmas morning, I brought out my list and started my journey. House to house. Street to street. Estate to estate. I was moving like a man on a mission. I had my phone in one hand, Google Maps in the other, and a cage full of angry chickens in the backseat of my car. delivering chickens is not like delivering food. When you deliver food, people are happy. They smile. They say, "Thank you." They tip you. But when you deliver chickens, People look at you like you just brought them a problem. Because now THEY have to kill it. THEY have to pluck it. THEY have to cook it. You're not bringing joy—you're bringing WORK. The most painful part is that most of the people I delivered to, who knew me from social media, thought meeting me in person was PART OF THE PACKAGE. I'm not joking. I would knock on someone's door; they'd open it, see me standing there with a chicken, and their face would light up like they just won a prize. "Oh my God! Edgar! CHECK EDGAR! Is this really you?" And I'd just stand there like, "Yes… It's me. Here's your chicken." They'd scream. Take pictures. Call their friends. "Guess who just delivered my Christmas chicken? CHECK EDGAR! Edgar came himself; he is so cute and humble!" Pleassssseee! I am not humble oh, and I am not even happy to see you. The original plan was not for me to be outside your house giving you chicken. It was for Cynthia and me to be at my house, enjoying banga soup with starch. Yes, I know you love me and my podcast, but I wasn't happy seeing you that day. The smile I had was a very fake smile. One woman even hugged me and said, "Aha, Edgar! Are you now doing giveaways with chicken now? This is amazing! You look smaller in person, sha! Nice Voice" I didn't correct her. I just smiled, collected my money, and left. But not everyone was excited to see me. To be honest, I am not that popular, so not everyone knows me yet. Some people who bought it collected it and slammed their gate at me; no thank you, nothing. Some even told me to tell my Oga thank you. Like I wasn't the Oga of my company. I remember one particular delivery. I'll never forget this one. The customer was living at an estate in Lekki. Beautiful place. Gate, strong security with muscle and six-packs, the whole package. I called the customer to let her know I was outside. She said, "Okay, I'm sending my driver to collect it." Fine. No problem. A few minutes later, this random man walks up to me. Tall guy. He had about six to seven lines on his forehead. With the number of lines on his head, it was either that he was working for a network service company or the driving work had frustrated him greatly. His face was angry by default. The way he collected the chicken, I knew he was a reckless driver. He inspected them, nodded his big head, and walked away. I thought that was the end. But 10 minutes later, my phone rings. "Hello? Edgar, thank you for the chicken, but your Uber driver was very rude today. Very rude. He is going to ruin your business. Change him oh!" I was confused. "Sorry, Ma. What happened?" She said, "I sent my driver to collect the chicken from your Uber driver. Not only did he come late, but my driver said he was very rude and didn't even assist him at all that your driver kept hissing and giving him a bad eye." When she was done, I apologised to her about the attitude of my Uber driver and told her I would not use him again. If only she knew that I was the Uber driver and that her driver's face was scary. Anyways, she is probably listening, so why do I care? Then there were the people who invited me inside. Yes. Inside their homes. To sit. To eat. To gist. One man in Ikeja told me, "Edgar, I've been listening to your podcast for months. Please, come inside. Let's talk. Let me give you food." I didn't want to be rude, so I agreed and entered his house. Give me food, give me food. This man did not give me food. He first started by telling me his family problems, how he had to remarry after his wife took his children and left the country. I told him God is in control; all will be fine. What about the food, Sir? He left his family and started talking about his Instagram business, and asked if I could help him grow his page. I told him it wasn't a problem. What about the food, Sir? Then he told me he was into selling cars; that was when I knew that the food he was talking about was food for thought. I told him I had to leave and deliver the remaining chicken before midnight. This man looked at me and said, "Check Edgar, I really wish you could stay, talk, and eat with me. You are a box of knowledge." Sir, this box of knowledge needs food to function before I think outside the box . As I was leaving his house, the man quickly placed a can of malt in my hands and told me he was a big fan. I shook my head, opened the can, and started sipping it little by little. Do I have a choice? There was this other guy too, who also asked me to enter his house, but the hair on his chest was long enough to sell as an attachment or a wig. I did not enter his house before you hear in the news that popular podcaster Edgar Eriakha is pregnant. I stood at the gate. There is no question this man did not ask me. He talked about my exes, my future plans, and if I ever see myself with an older woman! I was just smiling; I had no choice but to answer. After all, the customer is always right. There was even one guy who said he has been a fan since 2020 and that he will not collect the chicken from me if he doesn't hear my deep radio voice. I said, " Which voice? He said—

MAN: 19:50

Brooo! That deep baritone. I want to hear your baritone! The deep voice.

EDGAR: 20:00

But I have been talking na, he said—

MAN: 20:09

Nooo, I want that voice. Okay, say "Hey guys, what's up?"

EDGAR: 20:19

Hey, guys, what's up

MAN: 20:28

Make it deeper.

EDGAR: 20:38

Hey, guys, what's up

MAN: 20:47

Deeper, deepest!!

EDGAR: 21:06

Hey guys, what's up

MAN: 21:16

Ehn hen! That's what I am talking about. The golden voice! OH MY GOD! YES! THAT'S IT! I'M BUYING TWO!!

EDGAR: 21:25

And just like that, I made an extra sale. With my voice. My VOICE, CheckMates. If I had known my baritone could sell chickens, I would have started this business years ago. But not all my customers were this nice. I also met rude people. Very rude people. There was one woman in Surulere who opened her door, looked at me, looked at the chicken, and said, "Is this the chicken you're bringing me? It's too small." I looked at the chicken. It was a full, healthy fowl. There was nothing small about it. I said, "Madam, this chicken is standard size." She hissed. "Standard size ko, international size ni. Is this my first time buying chicken? This chicken looks like it's been fasting. Take it back. I don't even know who has more weight, you or the chicken." CheckMates… I almost cried that day. This woman insulted my chicken and me. I wanted to fire her back, but you know what they say, "The customer is always right." If not, I would have used my left hand to smack the terrible Yoruba accent out of her face. But I kept my cool. I smiled. Apologized. And left."She will buy chicken from the market, and the chicken will chase her back home. You will see." But out of ALL the people I met during those crazy days… Out of ALL the deliveries I made… There was ONE that stood out. One that changed everything. Her name was Naomi. And she didn't just buy a chicken from me. She invited me into her life. Into her home. Into her MOTHER'S living room. And that, CheckMates… is where the real story begins. But before I tell you what happened with Naomi and her unforgettable mother… Let's take a short break. Don't go anywhere. Listen to the promo. I'll be right back. And we're back! So, let me tell you about Naomi and her sweet mother. I think it was on the 23rd of December, I was going through my Instagram messages when I saw a request from Naomi. She said— "Hi Edgar, I saw your post about the Christmas chickens. I'd like to buy one. Can you deliver to Gbagada?" Usually, before replying to a new message, I would scan their profile and be sure the person looks like they have sense, they can afford chicken, and they cannot kidnap me. Naomi looked really pretty. She had a bright future behind her and had this one nation smile in all her photos. From her posts, I could tell that she was an "omo get inside"—that she was always indoors. Tell me why all your pictures were either in front of her gate or her compound. Anyways, I replied immediately. I said, "Yes, I can deliver. Send me your address." She sent it about five minutes later and even dropped her number just in case I wanted to reach her. I looked at the location, Gbagada, and thought, "Okay, nice area. Probably a quick delivery. In and out. My house isn't too far from Gbagada. This should be easy." Little did I know… This was NOT going to be a quick delivery. I got to Naomi's house around 5 PM on Christmas Day. Yes, Christmas Day. It wasn't difficult to find; she had posted too many pictures in front of the gate, so I knew I wasn't in the wrong place. The moment I saw a doorbell, I knew the family had sense, and the house was blessed. I rang the doorbell. A few seconds later, the door opened… and there she was. Naomi. CheckMates… You needed to see Naomi; this girl is beautiful. I am sure God created her in three days. She looked stressed, but even with the stress, she was giving 10 over 10 minus nothing. She wore a simple dress, no makeup, or wig. Everything made sense. Natural beauty. She smiled and said—

NAOMI: 25:42

"Edgar! You're here? Come in, come in."

EDGAR: 25:52

I hesitated. "Ah, it's okay. Let me just give you the chicken and—" She cut me off.

NAOMI: 26:11

"No, no, no. Please come inside. You've been working all day. At least let me give you something to drink."

EDGAR: 26:20

She held my hands, looked me in the eyes, and smiled. Immediately, a part of my brain twitched. The spirit said, "Follow her, follow her." Omo! Fear women, oh! As she was talking me into her house, my nose was just picking up different aromas of food. Jollof rice, fried rice, pounded yam, egusi soup, goat meat. Everything. The next thing that happened. Naomi called her mother to the living room.

NAOMI: 26:59

"Mummy, Mummy, Edgar is around."

EDGAR: 27:08

And just like that, I met her! The woman. The legend. The star of this story. Naomi's mother. The way she walked out of the kitchen, you could immediately tell the woman wasn't small. She had this presence and carriage! Gold everywhere. The woman was shining! She looked at me. Studied me. Up and down. Like she was scanning my entire history. Then she smiled.

NAOMI'S MOTHER: 28:23

"So YOU are Edgar."

EDGAR: 28:33

I nodded. "Yes, Ma. Good afternoon, Ma." She didn't respond immediately. She just kept looking at me. Then she turned to Naomi and said,

NAOMI'S MOTHER: 28:52

"Naomi, this is the boy you've been telling me about?"

EDGAR: 29:01

What? I became nervous. Two things came to mind. One good and one bad. I thought maybe she had been telling her mom about my podcast, and her mother loves my voice or my stories, orrrrr maybe just maybe I pranked Naomi sometime in 2020, and this was their way of getting back at me. Trapping me in their house. I looked at Naomi. She was blushing. Smiling nervously. Avoiding eye contact. Her mother continued.

NAOMI'S MOTHER: 29:30

"Hmm. He looks… responsible. A bit skinny, but responsible."

EDGAR: 29:39

I didn't know whether to say thank you or start doing push-ups right there to prove I had muscle. Then her mother stood up, walked over to me, and shook my hand firmly. She said,

NAOMI'S MOTHER: 29:49

"My name is Mrs Okonkwo. Welcome to my house. Sit down. You're not going anywhere until you eat."

EDGAR: 29:59

CheckMates… that was not a request. That was a COMMAND. Immediately, my butt sat down. Within minutes, Naomi brought out a full plate of food. And when I say full, I mean FULL. Jollof rice. Salad. Fried turkey. And then… She brought out a bottle of fresh palm wine. I wanted to tell them I don't take palm wine, but the look on her mother's face made me swallow my thoughts. Mrs Okonkwo sat down across from me, folded her arms, and said,

NAOMI'S MOTHER: 30:37

"So, Edgar. Tell me about yourself."

EDGAR: 30:46

Ah. I didn't expect the interview. I just wanted to eat and go home. But Mrs Okonkwo's face and heavy makeup were turning my stomach upside down. So I started talking. I told her about my podcast. About my family. About my education. I told her I work as a TV presenter at TVC Communications. She listened carefully. Nodding. Asking follow-up questions. Taking mental notes like she was filing a report. Then, out of nowhere, she said,

NAOMI'S MOTHER: 31:15

"Do you have a girlfriend?"

EDGAR: 31:24

I paused. Surprisingly, this was the easiest to answer. "Um… no, ma. I don't." Her face lit up. Like I had just given her the answer to a prayer.

NAOMI'S MOTHER: 31:53

"PERFECT!"

EDGAR: 32:02

She turned to Naomi and said,

NAOMI'S MOTHER: 32:12

"You see? I told you. God answers prayers."

EDGAR: 32:21

I was confused. What prayer? What did I just walk into? Then Mrs Okonkwo leaned forward, looked me dead in the eyes, and said,

NAOMI'S MOTHER: 32:40

"Edgar, my daughter is single, very single. And she's not getting any younger. Men are not coming. I don't know what is wrong with men these days, but they are not coming."

EDGAR: 32:50

CheckMates… I almost choked on my turkey. She continued.

NAOMI'S MOTHER: 33:09

"Naomi is a good girl. She's educated. She can cook. She doesn't trouble anybody. But for some reason, men keep running away. I don't know why. Maybe it's spiritual. Maybe it's generational. But YOU… you seem different."

EDGAR: 33:19

I didn't know what to say. So I just nodded. Like a lizard. Then she dropped the bomb.

NAOMI'S MOTHER: 33:38

"I want you to date my daughter for about six months. If you marry my daughter, I will pay for the wedding. EVERYTHING. The venue, the food, the clothes, the band. Everything. I just want to see my daughter settled. I want her to be happy."

EDGAR: 33:47

CheckMates! Did this woman just… offer to PAY for my wedding? I looked at Naomi. She was covering her face with her hands. Embarrassed. But also… smiling? I looked at the jollof rice. Still delicious. I looked at the palm wine. Still heavenly. I looked at Mrs Okonkwo. Still staring at me. Waiting for an answer. This was not a casual chicken delivery. This was a SETUP. A full, organised, mother-approved setup. I didn't know what to do. So I did what any reasonable man would do in that situation. Sell the chicken and not become a chicken! I smiled. Took a sip of palm wine. And said, "Ma, I think… we should build a friendship first. Get to know each other. See where things go. No pressure. Who knows, we could even get married in less than 6 months." Mrs Okonkwo looked at me. Then at Naomi. Then back at me. Then she clapped her hands together and said,

NAOMI'S MOTHER: 36:10

"YES! That's the right answer! You see, Naomi? This one has sense. He's not rushing. He's taking his time. I LIKE him."

EDGAR: 36:19

Naomi just laughed. A shy, relieved laugh. And I? I just sat there, eating my jollof rice, wondering how I went from delivering chickens to being interviewed for a son-in-law position. After the meal, I thanked them. Collected my money for the chicken. And promised to stay in touch with Naomi. Mrs Okonkwo doubled the pay as a sign to show her commitment. She walked me to the door and whispered,

NAOMI'S MOTHER: 36:58

"Don't disappoint me, Edgar. I'm watching you."

EDGAR: 37:07

I nodded. "Yes, ma'am." And just like that… I left. I made a few more deliveries and drove home. her mother is READY. And if things work out? I might just get a free wedding out of this whole chicken business. And that, my people, is how my Christmas went. So, why am I still single? sometimes, blessings come in the most unexpected packages. Sometimes, it's wrapped in feathers. And sometimes… It's delivered by hand. At the end of the day, I chose not to be a chicken and rather sell chicken! Merry Christmas and a happy New Year! And that's the end of today's episode! I hope you enjoyed it. If you did, please don't forget to subscribe, rate the podcast, and share it with your friends—single, dating, married, or confused. Everyone needs to hear this madness. Now, before you go, I have some VERY important announcements. 1. Follow me on Instagram @checkedgar 2. Share this episode on your story and tag me 3. Send me a DM telling me why you deserve the 50K www.checkedgar.com I'll pick the best entries and send the money directly to you. No games. No delay. Edgar doesn't lie. If you want to send me your own wild stories, confessions, or love notes for the next TGIF episode, use the SpeakPipe or Google Drive link in the show notes. I want to hear YOUR voices. Let's make TGIF 4 the best one yet. www.checkedgar.com This podcast ends the day I get married. And who knows? Maybe Naomi is the one. Maybe her mother's prayers will be answered. Maybe I'll finally stop being single. Why am I still single? Edgar doesn't lie. Check Edgar Out. 🎙✨