Ever wondered why I gat to start reading and knowing something? Lemme gist you two Naira of the gist!
My dad!
NURSERY 3 (wondering how I can still remember these memories? Because they had a place in my heart for easy access)
My dad started showing from our tender age that we must be educated, by fire, force or thunder! He had this slate on which is written A B C to z and 1, 2, 3 whether he inherited it, I don't know, but I met slate!
If you are here and you don't know what slate is, ifum n'uzo, kpom sir! 😂
He had another board, chalkboard but portable, and there was chalk.
Anything evil should befall you than dad carrying that board to teach you. You see ehn, truth is, in my growing days, I was scared of my dad more than Hell, or going to hell, or even Satan himself! I never heard fear for Satan all the fear was exhausted on my dad.
With his chalk, and cane, AND CANE! Thank God there's slim cane that bounce by his side, the ngwa man can give you a punch or plank your head with the board and treat you, can you cough? NO! You are his child mehn!
Maybe his lab rat, he practise new flogging style with us, I wished my dad is in the military, some criminals can only get the grade of beating we got when they are sentenced to beating to death. But yeye death wee not carry us. 😂
Child Abuse department wasn't working in our days, my dad will be like, if government ask me, I'll say is my child, I gave birth to him I saw potency of criminality in him and wasted him before he became a potential threat. And he meant it, I heard someone talk about their army days training, me, apart from walking on rope, the hammering and wiping, I collect it!
Did I tell you my dad slapped me once and mum use eye drop to treat my eyes? 😂. Sometimes I wonder why I still had flaws, those kind of beatings should leave you flawless, the law has no power, defile dad's order first! 😂
My father's house is his barrack, he is the commandant, his wife is and especially us are his army men, somebody that talks to you with eyes, don't get the gist that he's trying to communicate and thunder slap will reform your mental faculty. He once beat me in a birthday party in 2001 I stopped attending parties altogether 😂.
After school, we'll go to his shop at anozie (I passed their some months back and memories almost made me cry-laugh) the Brilliant Nursery and Primary School, one thing with him is, you must attend private school, he got the medal, the father whose three boys went to the expensive school of the city.
So, ya going to expensive school and you wee not know book? Thunder faya you 😂
I was 3+ years, my memories are intact for major events how else can I have precious moments? Precious bitter moment, no sorry, sweet moment, but no, I don't want my childhood back!
A 3+ child shows his dad his assignment right?
it's my whole problem, I needed help. my handwriting wasn't straight lined, but for write, I could, they told me I could scribble something on the floor before they sent me to school and I could barely pronounce articulate speech. When I calculated my age from my Nursery Certificate, I got into school before I turned one going by their facts it was the 9th month. I doubted it so badly until I found my neighbor's daughter walking at month 8 making though not articulate speech, but adult human can comprehend!
So I imagined me, screaming "I doh doh tul tetemba" my mum said I will announce this to anybody I saw so much that they had no option than sign me up! 😂 Baby Chines no come dull 😂 😂 it was because of my elder brother sha, I wanted to be carried on my neck like he was being carried everyday to school.
The dates are so accurate that it'll tally with my present age if I calculate till today.
So this 3+ years baby in Nursery 3, turning four in February of the next year, the same year he'll graduate from nursery three into primary 1, came to his dad in his shop with my book to show me the assignment, nama days we write it for children, but did they born you well to ask daddy to write your assignment? NO 😂!
What did I sabi? His shop was closest to my school and we report to his shop after school and follows him home that's where we meet our Savior, MUM! (writing this, I just felt again what it felt like sighting mum returning from afar, we'll run, heel touching head, to her to welcome her back. No not because we are well mannered who love welcoming their parents, but because our Savior is back, the catalyst just returned, the tension in our heart will ease a little. Our Savior, mum was Jesus; don't ask me who dad was 😂 MOSES! My mind just whispered Prophet Muhammed)
I needed help with my assignment and this time he showed me what to write, but my sweet little self (or was I not sweet enough? My childhood picture shows I was nothing short of sweet, if my son will be just like that oh mine! Red lips, all round fair, the fair that migrated to only my thigh and legs now thank God for Nigerian ☀ sun) lacked the skills of writing it on a straight line, handwriting book blessed my life sha.
Shebi dem say those wey know book no get fine handwriting? Is nor me that said it!
Dad was sitting on his locker looking over my work, I was sitting on the stool, head bent, writing my thing, when before I know, before I can even think.... Koiiiiii. Came the loud knock!
My big head have suffered! The place germinated immediately, the swelling visible. I ran out of the shop, massaging my little head, panting and crying, of course his associates were mad at him and shouted, but it is nothing baba, he has done the deed. My protruded head side was my reward for not knowing how to write straight line at age 3 and showing my dad my assignment.
The swelling was so much that mum had to take me to her mother the next day, she said I should say I'm sick. I did, I followed her to the market. Of course I was more than sick, my head is disfigured, for not knowing how to write straight at 3, when I say my children will know how to write at 2-3yrs y'all don't get right? 😂 😂 because I did.
So amidst the massaging grandma gave me, and the consolation, amidst mum's tears over her innocent son's head, amidst sitting on dad's lap as he took me to school the day after, I made up my mind. My crime the day before yesterday was showing dad my assignment, my head will never rise, I'll never go through any pain, I'll never dance and wriggle in pain, I'll never bat a new eyelid for tears. You know beating was our Christmas and new year those years in addition to the clothes we got, it was more of like daily bread, so there was much self advising than any other thing.
I advice myself, whether I get 0/10 or 2/10 whether the assignment is as hard as olumo rock or ekpoma's dry earth, I'll never show my dad my assignment ever again, I'll do it in school with the first example, whether I pass it or fail it.
That was the last time my dad saw me do my assignment, that was the last time he taught me my assignment, I will rejoice in my 3/10 and 4/10 they were better than swelling head, not long after it moved to 5/10, 7/10, 10/10 my dad was excited, his son's result always read excellent and very good.
Self pity made me brilliant
Self defence made me to know book
Swollen head formed the basis of all what I know today
Self advice is reflecting in all of my results now!
And now, I'm cry-laughing again.
Memories of being strong, I thought I'll grow strong, what ever happened to that strength I had in childhood, oh I have it now, though diluted, but tougher, how else do I survive in ekpoma? 😂
I know your mom and dad gave you ice cream for everytime you read well and they were reading alongside you that's how you learnt to read.
Mine was in knock, and swollen head. In self advice and pity.
God give me a new life already, isn't it ice cream that 3years children are licking?
Shebi I should be grateful to my dad for making me brilliant? Yinmu. 😂 😂
I'll tell my kids this story, and we'll laugh together!!
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