It is sweet and nice to throw the line “growing up was fun” around any given opportunity in a bid to sound cool or reminisce some so called awesome childhood. For majority, the grin of their mouth and beam of their eyes, lighting up as they spill such lines, does give credence to it.
For others, not so much.
Nigerian parents are a wonderful breed. Plenty dramas and all. Both subtle and explosive. The game of expectation stands out special.
They don’t ask for much. Simple but tricky demands. Easy to do, hard to enjoy and hardly anything out of the confines of religion and education. Not surprising to see both angles being the centre of contradictory expectations.
Religion being the first concept you get initiated into, God, angels and demons and the constant need to burn them with the fire of the Holy ghost becomes a daily practice.
In between the church and school, a healthy system of morals are drawn. Observe them and you damn well will earn the neighbourhood tag of “good boy/girl.” It’s a big deal. At this point, seeing pride beam out of your parents becomes a regular thing. Do not however expect to be told else it “goes into your head”.
Soon adulthood (18th birthday) comes calling while the harsh realities of life start to prance and prep in a bid to welcome you with a cold and harsh embrace like that of an early morning harmattan breeze
One day, it happens. The events start reeling themselves out.
Praying to study your dream course and falling short. Your atheist friend, Morgan becomes the reference point of success. Don’t even think about arguing along the lines of what if the devil made it so. In fact don’t argue at all. In Nigeria, you listen to arguments and battering not the other way round.
Done with school, a day comes where you’re somewhere in Lagos wondering if going home for Christmas will be worth it. The last time you were home, Kingsley’s G-class mocked your Leg-Cerdez Benz the whole time. The same kid mama told you you was “bad news” and should not by any account be your friend now receives prayers that God should “keep” blessing the “work of his hands”.
When the sun finally agrees to shine upon you, the marriage talk begins. Five years later and pops is exasperated at your inability to find a soul mate. Yeah, he decreed and forbade you from having a girlfriend until you’re certified a graduate, thus denying the chance to learn how to build relationships. So what? Right?
Not every kid in this country experience this hell. But for those who do, it’s worth chewing on.
Our parents are the only people on earth who have our best interest at heart. The devil is in the detail of executing it. Being one of the most unexpressive race on earth, telling you what they don’t mean and meaning what they don’t say, it’s hardly surprising at the string of paradoxes that strain the tail end of their existence as they struggle to see the very kid they expected to grow into an adult, meeting instead some stranger.
That’s bad. Whatever they must have handled wrongly, every kid out there, not just in Nigeria, should, nay, must walk on the lines of making the wrinkles of their old age be that of happiness and fulfillment no matter what.