Life: Through The Lens Of A Child

We used to free, playing on the streets,kicking empty cans all the way to school and back.

We were free to visit the stream,coming back home with eyes so red you can’t deny where you’ve been ( you really didn’t need to anyway)

We used to be free to eat,drink in the neighbours friends house coming back home with big round tommies and shirts stained with oil due to the struggle for meat.

It was actually allowed to remove our sandals and walk bare feet, swinging them in rhythm of songs learnt from the village square last night.

Parents yes, but the society was the standard model and watch dog. Kids getting spanked by total strangers when due and still complimented for not sparing the rod when the news filtered back home.

Teachers were idolized as mini gods due to the importance society placed on them- a noble profession with “rewards in heaven”. Life for us as kids was super fun.

We built castles with mud,using our legs as designs. Creativity and natural instincts buzzing in our heads.

The girls quickly learnt singing and clapping while gathered around in circles,cooking with empty cans and pawpaw leaves while the boys,armed with catapults,ventured beyond the boundary of the stream in search of that elusive old wise tortoise grandpa always talked about so they could be as wise as him. 

They actually did venture because the fear of evil men to kidnap them wasn’t a part of the society. But all that faded away.

We now grow up in houses with fences so tall they reach out to the moon, our freedom the society wickedly took from us. The society you adults have created. We now live with the monsters you created.

We play yes, but with toys and TV game consoles more than with the kids next door, oh yes, we see them just as they leave for school that's all in dark tinted windows.

We eat yes, but from cans and packs,beautifully sealed nylon wraps picked from the kitchen shelf cos mummy has to beat the traffic at 5:30am, and yet we dare not eat or dine even with our best friend in school because we don’t know the source of the water in their houses. 

We feed on 2 minute meals, microwaved meals from last week and meals from the delivery man more than from mummy's kitchen.

The closest I have been with my cousins is looking at their pictures on Facebook( the ones I know or heard of ) cos they all bad people who do not like us. 

While I struggle to make a sentence with my own mother tongue,teachers trying so hard to make me speak and sound like the half baked humans I see on DSTV, they say I will be accepted easily when I sound like them, why can’t I sound like you mum? If you don’t like the way you sound who else will?

Boys growing up on their own filled with Internet curriculum and modelling their lives to the edited content of celebrities on E channel because Daddy is busy meeting deadlines and targets set by the corporate world, a vicious circle that keeps him away like forever but to which he says pays the bills and allows me the luxuries I enjoy.

 Luxuries? Seriously? You mean being caged as soon as school ends is now luxury? That used to be when the fun was just about to start.

And so I get to spend so much of my developmental time with nannies sorry I mean uncles and aunties who are too busy on social media to notice me and when they do, explore my purity and violate my innocence , setting me on a dangerous path.

Cooking is now an odd ugly task meant for the chef while I dwell on the society short cuts: 2 minute noodles and coco pops. The joy of splashing and goofing around in the stream washing clothes now long as I only toss them into the washer and wait for that cling sound to signify it's done. 

You might argue that they have made life easier but also, it has taken away an essential part of learning and altered the natural balance of life teachings as we grow up. 

We now juggle between British and American curriculum expressed as Montessori for the elite while the poor languish in so called public schools at the mercy of unpaid teachers struggling to find motivation but surrounded by frustration hence the then noble profession now a shadow of itself.

Education should never be categorized based on it either being private or public; opportunities in life aren’t! No kid was born to come face this societal divide, we innocent.

In case you adults have not noticed; our innocence is a different kind of beautiful that most of you only dream about.

When next you sit on the decision making alters and tables,remember we have the right to be protected and provided for but most importantly we have the right to be free, free from the mental walls and societal barriers you adults have created.

3 Days To My Wedding..

“Its either you are the new Virgin Mary or you lied abou t your virginity status in your form, because your pregnancy test result is here and it shows you are seven (7) weeks pregnant!. So which is it? Be rest assured that even your fathers status as Senior Pastor cannot make this panel bend the rules for you. Am afraid but you will have to call off the wedding”.

Those words from the church marriage committee this morning is still echoing in my ears long after I left their presence. Hours later, as I sat on the hotel couch, throw-pillow half soaked with hot tears in my hand, looking hopelessly at the mirror trying to see what part of my life I could salvage from the destructive chain of events that had quickly kicked in since my meeting with the panel ended and I walked shamefully out of the church premises hurriedly into the waiting Uber taxi.

“Back to Wuse II where I picked you or to another location? Ma? The very kind driver obviously noticed there was something wrong with me. I was quite the bubbly bride-to-be chit chatting away about how plans were on top gear for my wedding three days away with so much joy and excitement in my voice that literally was contagious and then now am ice-cold trying so hard not to sob so loudly. He could read the handwriting on the wall that the meeting didn’t go as planned.

“No, just take me to any hotel outside of the city centre, I need some time to myself” I stuttered. Now alone, in an undisclosed location, far away from family and friends but my problems proved I could only run but not hide from them.

Zoned out completely, gazing into nothing specifically, my attention was reawakened rudely by the sound of Wiz Kids “Fever” song; a ringtone customized for Jason my fiancée. As my gaze shifted away from the mirror to the phone, more tears flowed from my eyes easily with reckless abandone.

I buried my face once again into the helpless pillow and broke down completely. My heart was too heavy and I screamed and shouted out in agony. My hands were shaking and shivering, I couldn’t feel my legs and my body temperature was sky high. I fell back on the sofa and just wished I could disappear. 

My whole world was crashing down on me barely seventy-two (72) hours to arguably one of the most important days of my life just because of a test result am sure isn’t mine!.

How can I be pregnant? Sex was never an item between Jason and I. When we met in London two years ago during our first semester exams to earn a Masters degree in Financial Analytics, we both agreed till our wedding night. It was easy for both of us to resolve that easily due to the similarities we had in our up-bringing. We even joked sometimes as to who had the meanest experience and bombardment from mothers about sex and the dangers of engaging in pre-marital sex. 

He, like me, grew up in a church environment hence our principles seamlessly had the same direction. How the pregnancy test came out positive still beats me. I was too shocked to even respond and the panel felt my silence was consent!.

Bad news spreads faster than good they say. Within an hour the meeting ended, I have rejected calls from far and near. The constant beeping of messages and chats dropping in my phone were more like a competition. I knew they all wanted to hear what I did not have the answer to; ARE YOU TRULY PREGNANT?

With that, I passed out. Am sure hours passed by. From the depths of my sleep, I saw faint images of a hotel waitress tapping my shoulders. I could see Jason shoving her away and picking me up in his arms. The remaining images were too blurry for me to recollect fully. But I did not wake up, fully.

By the time I did, the environment was quite different from the hotel room I remember checking in to. I could still hear sounds, a constant beeping but not like the notifications from my phone. Even though I was weak and still fuzzy but I realized I was not alone. My head ached so badly and I was feeling feverish. Minutes later, my view became a bit clearer. I could identify Jason from his athletic body frame standing by my bed side talking to my father but I couldn’t hear what they were saying though.

That in itself was punishment for me; were they discussing how disappointed they were in me for bringing shame unto the family? So many permutations ran through my mind. Then it hit me, how did they find me in the first place? Who told them where I was? Am sure they are so angry with me.

Just then, a lady in white uniform came in and asked them to step outside, I realized I was in a hospital. She did her routines and confirmations. I shut my eyes firmly so she will not know I was awake. It did not work, as she leaned over to me and whispered “aunty, I know you are awake but I will not tell them. ‘Just rest for now”.

How I yearned to ask her if she knew what they were discussing outside, but if I did, my temporary cover will be blown and the fear of the unknown will come bearing down on me in its full wrought. So I decided to linger on in my “safe haven” of am not yet awake.

Moments later, the two mother in-laws scampered in with my mum in front. I could feel the unease in her breath when she leaned to kiss my fore-head. The remaining two men outside; my father and Jason also walked back into the room. I was eager to hear what the topic of discussion will be. I was expecting the worst tantrum from my mother when and not if she finally opens her mouth to talk.

“Ah, those useless hospital people want to kill my daughter, a girl the holy spirit and I trained through fasting and prayers. So this is how the devil wants to attack me right? Blood of Jesus! They have failed with me o, they can never succeed”.

My mother, panting and breathing heavily as she paced around the room but I still did not know if I was safe to open my eyes or not. My father interjected, “Dear, she will be fine. It was a mix –up in the files. We just have to wait for her to wake up and then pick up from where the arrangements stopped!”.

I felt a tingle in my ears, there was adrenaline rush from my head down to my toes, I could not believe what I was hearing but again, I needed to be sure so I will not burst my cover and face the panel of death.

“I have been telling her to calm down but she will not listen, my son has already gotten the correct result from the hospital and tendered same to the committee chairman who personally called us to apologize for the earlier directives sent to the pastor. Nothing will spoil our day of joy o”.

With that reconfirmation, I opened my eyes, my eyes were locked in with Jason who was standing directly opposite the bed. He rushed to sit beside me, gently holding my hands and kissing my fore-head.

“You got me scared to death, I reached out to the taxi company hours after you told me you had arrived at the church. They checked their logs and confirmed you dropped off at Lugbe Satellite town. We traced your phone via GPS and tracked you to the hotel, we had to use the spare key to open the door and rushed you down here”.

I wanted to respond but the words were not coming, the tears started pouring in again. “Babe, don’t cry, it wasn’t your test result. There was a mix up with the surname; we are getting married in two days time so we really need to get going. You have slept for 15 hours while I have filled in for you with the arrangements I could. You need to pay me for that babe”.

With that, everybody busted out laughing real hard. My night mare had come to an end, my head was still aching but I was pumped up to resume from where I stopped. I tried getting up but I was told to allow the nurse remove the IV line in my left hand.

Can somebody give me my phone I asked, I need to confirm if the red roses have arrived from Lagos…”that is my daughter talking, soon to be Mrs Adenike Jason Cole”.

With that, we all left the hospital. I have a wedding to plan. Bye