The World’s Worst Fathers
Image: LA Progressive My mind keeps flitting to this year’s Father’s Day and an incident that happened on Twitter. While most people were praising their fathers, this girl (whom I won’t mention) shared a thread about her abusive father and how he isn’t, for lack of a better word, shit. She wished her mother a happy father’s day for being both father and mother to her and her siblings and prayed her father rots in hell. People were angry that she deigned to say such things about her father. One guy in particular was so mad, he started a thread of his own. The crux of his thread was that he didn’t want to hear about her father being horrible, that she should have kept it to herself and worse, that she was a useless child for airing those things about her father. I was livid at the guy (and other people like him) for bashing the girl. I wondered why it was okay for them to praise their fathers on their own timelines but it wasn’t okay for the girl to call out her father on her timeline. I remember tweeting along those lines and saying that everyone had a right to whatever emotion they had and it was wrong to shut people down because they do not look or think like us. Today however, the incident has me thinking about the reasons why that girl spoke about her father like that. I played all the scenarios of fathers I have met and been told about and I couldn’t help but conclude that there are some really horrible fathers out there. So…here is my list of the world’s worst fathers; 1. THE ‘BREAD LOSER’: If the bread winner is one who takes care of the family, the ‘bread loser’ is my word for one who doesn’t. People know that in many homes, the mother is the breadwinner of the family. She works or trades to ensure the family is catered for while maintaining the ruse that the father provides the money. Now, I am not hammering on men who cannot take care of their families – probably from illness, disability or recent job loss – but men who won’t take care of their families. There was this time in film school when we were doing emotional exercises and one of the acting students shared her experience. In her words, she was glad her father was dead. Many people balked at that statement but I wanted to know why. Thing is, her father had been a deadbeat father. He never provided for any of their basic necessities, choosing to spend whatever he made on himself. It was so bad that at his death, they had nothing! They were forced out of their house and their properties reclaimed to settle his debts. They had to live in an uncompleted building for months until someone took pity on them. Hearing her talk was about the hardest thing I could do. The pain was so raw that there wasn’t a dry eye in that room. And though some of our course mates said she should never have said something like that, I understood. You cannot imagine how horrible it is to have a father who lets you go hungry while being the man-about-town in bars and clubs or who makes you suffer the shame of being driven from school every term for school fees; or having a father who spends money on clothes and cars but doesn’t care that you are wearing rags; or even having a father who spends money eating grilled fish with cronies every night while the family eats Miyan Kuka every day. These kinds of fathers deserve to be on the list of the world’s worst fathers. 2. THE CASANOVA; These are the fathers who chase and date anything in skirts; or trousers. Everyone knows they are philanderers, flirts, womanizers or just plain licentious. Their wives and children bare the shame for these men who seem to have no shame. These are the ones who bring in their side pieces into their matrimonial homes and beds when the wife takes a simple two-day trip. They are the ones who dishonor their children with their unabashed lack of restraint and strength of character. There is this friend of mine whose father is a professor. Each new academic year brought him a bevy of fresh undergrads for his taking. When the guy was in 300L, he met a girl who, coincidentally, was one of his father’s side pieces. After the initial anger, he and the girl became friends. I was shocked when he told me that. I wondered at his decision until he explained. ‘My father doesn’t care two-bits about us. He gives us a basic allowance and when something new comes up and we need more money, he tells us he has done his part. I know he spends a lot of money on his girls; they even brag about it. So when I became friends with the girl, I told her how he treats us. She came up with the idea that whenever I need something, I could pass it unto her and she would get the money from my father. And true to her word, when asking for her allowance from my father, she would add the amount I needed and that was how I got by in school.’ Horrible, right? No! This guy needed to get basics for school; basics that his father wouldn’t give him but would give a girl he was fucking seeing. No wonder he had to do what he could to get some money. Some of these men may not openly disrespect their families but they are still Casanovas. How do I know? I have been propositioned by men whom I knew were married and whose children could be my age and even older. I have hung out with friends at bars where obviously married men were
Dear Future Family: Letter to My Husband
Man Proposing with a diamond ringCulled from: SALON Dear future husband, Here are a few things you need to know if you want to be my one and only all my life. Hey Meghan Trainor, get out of my head! First off, I am a whole, complete and full human being. You do not ‘complete’ me, or make me ‘whole’. I am not half a human being who needs to be completed. I hope you also know that you are a whole, complete and full human being too. I am not in your life to complete you either. I was created for a purpose for which I have taken time to search and understand. Guess what? That purpose is not marriage! Marriage to you will be a PART of my life and not the entire essence of it. This means that whether I marry you or remain single, my life will still be fulfilled as long as I live my purpose. So if I decide to marry you, it will not be because marriage will make my life more fulfilling or meaningful. No. And if you haven’t found the ‘why’ of your life, you better keep that ring to yourself. Be rest assured that I will not marry someone whom I have to help find his way. Find the reason for your existence and THEN talk to me. Society doesn’t think my identity matters. They either want me to bare my father’s name or bare your name. It is like the concept of my identity threatens the faux power society wields. Well, I have decided to give my middle finger to society. Taking your name is not compulsory. I love my name! I love my identity! So forgive me darling for wanting to hold on to my name. I mean, it doesn’t change the fact that I am your wife whether I take your name or not. Chimamanda Adichie isn’t less married because she didn’t take her husband’s name. Same with Beyoncé. I hope you can understand why I want to do this. The best qualities I bring to you are NOT my virginity, ability to cook nor how long I can pray. The best quality I am bringing to the table is the quality of my mind. I am not an ornament. I have a fully functional brain with my own thoughts, views, ideas and ideologies. I say what I think, whenever I feel. While I admire the quality of your mind, I will not shelve my ideas or views for yours. Your ideas are not better than mine because you are a man. They should be better on merit. And when they are better, I will admit it and respect yours but I will not accept the premise that the quality of an idea is based on which side of the gender divide one falls in. You are the head of our home but that doesn’t mean you are the master cum slave driver. We have one Master whom we both must defer to and HE is neither of us. So let me put this out there; I will not do ALL the house chores! That house is OUR home so we either work together to keep it or we don’t even bother walking down that road. If you want a wife to take care of all the home chores, that woman is not me. I will have no option but to bid you farewell and send out my best wishes to you. Let’s talk about sex baby. (Salt-N-Pepa, it is 2016. A new track won’t hurt!) Sex is a beautiful expression of a lot of things and could mean anything at any given time. I KNOW about sex; a lot! Knowing about sex doesn’t make me a ‘whore’ as popular belief says. Hey society, how come when a woman knows about sex she is a whore but when a man does he isn’t? We will break you society! Mark our words! I am not going to act naïve to feed your ego. I will actively partake in the pleasure giving and taking that is sex. There will be role playing games and oh-so-crazy adventurous things we will do in the bedroom (and on the couch, on the table, on the bar, on the floor. You can meet me in the bathr…wait Young Jeezy! Let me finish this!). If this doesn’t go well with your ego, you can go to moon and rest. You will not be missed; at least, not by me. My love, you know I like me some adventure. There are time I would want us to eat out, stay in a hotel, travel around the globe, try new things and basically be as much fun as possible. Even when we get older and can’t be jumping up and down, I still want us to find small pleasures that make memories worth keeping. I can honestly take care of myself. I believe in working hard for everything I need and then working some more for the things I want. I won’t marry you for financial security. My brain is capable of making me as wealthy as I want to be and all that independent of you. Don’t think you are doing me a favor by telling me about the money you are making. You may be Jay but you better believe that I am Bey. You can expect that I will bring in my own slice of the bacon which should be a naira for naira match of what you are bringing in. While I expect us to gift each other things over the course of our lives, don’t worry about my clothes, underwear, skin products, hair and makeup. I’ve got this. I also want you to know that I will buy houses, cars, bonds, businesses and other things I consider assets; and in my name too! Don’t fret. I expect you to do the same. When we have children, the onus of raising
Dear Future Family: Letter to My Husband 2
Man Proposing with a diamond ringCulled from: SALON Dear future husband, Here are a few things you need to know if you want to be my one and only all my life. Hey Meghan Trainor, get out of my head! First off, I am a whole, complete and full human being. You do not ‘complete’ me, or make me ‘whole’. I am not half a human being who needs to be completed. I hope you also know that you are a whole, complete and a full human being too. I am not in your life to complete you either. I was created for a purpose for which I have taken time to search and understand. Guess what? That purpose is not marriage! Marriage to you will be a part of my life and not the entire essence of it. This means that whether I marry you or remain single, my life will still be fulfilled as long as I live my purpose. So if I decide to marry you, it will not be because marriage will make my life more fulfilling or meaningful. No. And if you haven’t found the ‘why’ of your life, you better keep that ring to yourself. Be assured that I will not marry someone whom I have to help find his way. Find the reason for your existence and then talk to me. Society doesn’t think my identity matters. They either want me to bare my father’s name or yours. It is like the concept of my identity threatens the faux power society wields. Well, I have decided to give my middle finger to society. Taking your name is not compulsory. I love my name! I love my identity! So forgive me darling for wanting to hold on to my name. I mean, it doesn’t change the fact that I am your wife whether I take your name or not. Chimamanda Adichie isn’t less married because she didn’t take her husband’s name. Same with Beyoncé. I hope you understand. The best qualities I bring to you are not my virginity, ability to cook or how long I can pray. The best quality I am bringing to the table is the quality of my mind. I am not an ornament. I have a fully functional brain with my own thoughts, views, ideas and ideologies. I say what I think, whenever I feel. While I admire the quality of your mind, I will not shelve my ideas or views for yours. Your ideas are not better than mine because you are a man. They should be better on merit. And when they are better, I will admit it and respect yours but I will not accept the premise that the quality of an idea is based on which side of the gender divide one falls in. I do not believe you are the head of our home. We are partners in a relationship that is equality. Having said that, I understand that equality is also about sacrifice and compromise and I am willing to be reasonable for the greater good of our partnership. There are days when you should lead and there are days when I should. We need to play to our strengths and capabilities. So let me put this out there; I will not do all the house chores! That house is our home; so we either work together to keep it or we don’t even bother walking down that road. If you want a wife to take care of all the home chores, that woman is not me. I will have no option but to bid you farewell and send out my best wishes to you. Let’s talk about sex baby. (Salt-N-Pepa, it is 2016. A new track won’t hurt!) Sex is a beautiful expression of a lot of things and could mean anything at any given time. I know about sex; a lot! Knowing about sex doesn’t make me a ‘whore’ as popular belief says. Hey society, how come when a woman knows about sex she is a whore but when a man does, he isn’t? We will break you, society! Mark our words! I am not going to act naïve to feed your ego. I will actively partake in the pleasure giving and taking that is sex. There will be role playing games and oh-so-crazy adventurous things we will do in the bedroom (and on the couch, on the table, on the bar, on the floor. You can meet me in the bathr…wait Young Jeezy! Let me finish this!). If this doesn’t go well with your ego, you can go to moon and rest. You will not be missed; at least, not by me. My love, you know I like me some adventure. There are times I would want us to eat out, stay in a hotel, travel around the globe, try new things and basically be as much fun as possible. Even when we get older and can’t be jumping up and down, I still want us to find small pleasures that make memories worth keeping. I can honestly take care of myself. I believe in working hard for everything I need and then working some more for the things I want. I won’t marry you for financial security. My brain is capable of making me as wealthy as I want to be and all of that is independent of you. Don’t think you are doing me a favor by telling me about the money you are making. You may be Jay but you better believe that I am Bey. You can expect that I will bring in my own slice of the bacon which should be a Naira for Naira match of what you are bringing in. While I expect us to gift each other things over the course of our lives, don’t worry about my clothes, underwear, skin products, hair and makeup. I’ve got this. I also want you to know that I will buy houses, cars, bonds, businesses and other things I
Good Christian People II
Add caption Tolulope has been facing abuse from her family and boyfriend because of a mistake she made. She is about to be pounced on by her brother in-law and her sister. Would she escape the beating she is sure to get? Will her life get better? Find out by continuing the story. Remember, all the events of this story are based on true events. Only the names have been changed. If you haven’t seen Part 1, start off here. *** For 2 days they beat Tolulope, punctuating each slap or kick or punch with the Bible thrust into her face, reminding her that she could be free when she swore to give up her boyfriend and their child. She lost consciousness several times and as soon as she came to, the threats and subsequent beatings continued. By the third day, she couldn’t take it anymore. She went to them while they breakfasted and knelt down. ‘Uncle, Aunty, I have come here to apologize. I have been a fool. I have been a disobedient child and I have been sinful. Today, I want to swear before you and God that I have repented and I will never see Femi or Ayo again. I will obey you with the whole of my heart and do anything you want. If you still want me to swear with the Bible, I will do so.’ Aderopo smiled. ‘You have done well. If you had agreed since, you wouldn’t have suffered all these things. But you know that God told me to do that. Anyway, go and eat.’ For a week, Tolulope was the picture of the perfect niece; waking up early, cleaning the house, bathing the kids, prepping them for school, cooking the household meals and doing the dishes and laundry. For one week Tolulope didn’t speak to Femi or her daughter or anyone else for that matter. She was not allowed to go out of the gate by the express instruction of Aderopo but she didn’t even attempt to. Until her opportunity came. Friday, the gate man, left the house every day at 1pm and 4pm to play draft at the top of the street. He would return after 30 minutes and continue his work; like clockwork. He usually locked the door from outside with a piece of stick instead of the padlock. Her sister had gone to the market and Tolulope knew she had time. Her uncle was not due back until 6pm. This had to happen today or no other day. As soon as it was 1pm, Friday set off for his game. Tolulope gave him 5 minutes. She ran out to the gate and started shaking it. Gently, gently she did to see if she could dislodge the stick. She continued on for 15 minutes and with each push-and-tug, she despaired at getting caught. Finally the stick fell! She opened the gate and looked out. There was no one on the street. She got out of the house, put the stick back in place and walked away. The street was a typical upscale street in Abuja. There were no hiding places and getting a bike or taxi was hard. She had to walk long distances to get one. She walked as calmly as she could because she didn’t want to arouse attention. She nearly died when she saw a car coming her way. Was it her uncle? His wife? Was she about to be caught? Her heart was beating faster than was healthy. Her legs couldn’t carry her further and she just stood there. The car inched closer…and closer… …and then it passed. Phew! It wasn’t her family! That was her cue. Damn any attention she would draw to herself. She had to run! And run she did! When she got to the top of the street, she saw a bike and used all her desperation to flag him down. When he stopped, Tolulope saw, from the corner of her eye, the unmistakable red of her uncle’s car and before she could tell the bike man where, she jumped on, and shouted ‘Go! Go! Go!’ The bike man roared with speed and passed Aderopo who wondered at the rough rider and continued home. There were two car parks close to the estate and Tolulope asked the driver to take her to the farthest. Her heart was still racing and she knew she was not out of the loop yet. When they got to the park, she saw a vehicle going to Kaduna and they needed just one person to fill it. She jumped into it and the driver collected her money. As he went about looking for change, Tolulope kept praying she would escape. She just wanted to leave; she just wanted to live. When they finally got on their way, they got caught in traffic. Maybe God wasn’t going to help her after all. She knew that her uncle would come after her and he would not stop at anything. She kept praying and praying until the red jaguar rolled up and stopped right by their side; by Tolulope’s side. It was her uncle. She was in the back seat but if he looked, he would see her in the rearview mirror. Tolulope ducked, hitting the Muslim woman beside her. The woman asked what the fuss was about. ‘That man in that car is my uncle. He has been raping me for years and beating me. I just escaped today. Please, help me.’ The woman looked at him and looked at her. She looked at him again. She made up her mind, took off her veil, covered Tolulope and put her hand on her. The man in the car looked at her and she could almost feel his malevolence. He looked away and inched closer in the traffic lane. After 15 minutes, the gridlock opened and they were on their way. Smooth sailing to Kaduna. And all through, the girl she had just helped cried and cried. *** When Tolulope
Good Christian People
Based on true events. Girl crying.Image: Women’s Net Tolulope Brainard sat in front of Dr. Kikelomo with bated breaths. Everything seemed to be going in slow motion. She was sure that the result in that envelope would change her life forever, yet she dreaded what it would say. She wanted to pray but knew that whatever prayer she sent now was too late anyway. It was either positive or negative. ‘You are pregnant Tolulope.’ Dr. Kikelomo said. She didn’t just say it with finality; that would have been nice. Dr. Kikelomo said that with cynicism, seemingly mocking her predicament. Tolulope got up to leave. Dr. Kikelomo stopped her in her tracks. ‘I must say that I am ashamed of you. How could you have been fornicating all this while? What a shame you are to the church! You do know I am sending the report to the pastor so you can be disciplined right?’ Tolulope looked back at her and turned the door knob. She walked out of the consulting room and out of the hospital. As she wandered the streets in a state of confusion, her life’s choices began to flash before her. *** Tolulope was born into a strong Christian family. She was the youngest girl of four siblings; one brother and three sisters. Her father died when she was five and her mother took up the responsibility of taking care of them. They were poor; not piss poor, but poor still. Her mother, if anything, became more religious. She spent all her time reading her Bible, attending church services and doing evangelism. Tolulope grew up on nothing but the Bible, its edicts and its teachings. Her mother drummed morality into all her children, chief of which was staying away from fornication. Tolulope knew by heart all the Bible verses about sexual sins. Her oldest sister – Shayo – was married off to the church choirmaster, Aderopo Bolaji, when she was 17. He was a middle class man who worked in the government. He took the load off Tolulope’s mother by paying most of her bills. As he got promoted, his burden increased; he became the chief financier of Tolulope’s family. He trained Tolulope’s siblings until only Tolulope was left. When Tolulope got into the university, she maintained her Christian life. She studied hard, prayed a lot, never missed campus fellowships and completely stayed off boys. She did all that until she met Femi. Femi was handsome, intelligent and dedicated to the things of God. He was, in her definition, the perfect man. No one taught her to understand her body and its urges so when she started feeling things for Femi, she chucked it up to being ‘sinful’. She prayed to God to deliver her from her feelings and when that didn’t happen, blamed Him for them. She found out later that Femi also shared same feelings and they started dating…or more appropriately, courting. They never spent any time alone together. They always had a chaperone or a friend. They didn’t want to tempt the devil to cause them to sin. When they had dated for 2 years, Femi proposed and Tolulope said yes. She was elated! She couldn’t wait to share the happy news. She called her mother and sister Shayo and they seemed genuinely pleased. God had sent them a good man. When Shayo told Aderopo, he flew into a rage. How dare Tolulope date someone? Who gave her the right to date anyone he had not first approved off? Shayo was surprised at the anger but since the Bible urged her to submit to her husband, she soon began to see things in his light. Aderopo began to make life harder for Tolulope. He told her to choose between Femi and continuing her education. When she didn’t listen, he threatened to stop sending money to their sick mother. Tolulope told Femi everything and they decided to keep their relationship secret until Shayo’s husband was more cooperative. Well, she couldn’t hide it any more. *** Carrying the pregnancy was the hardest thing Tolulope had to do. Aderopo beat her every day, maybe hoping she would lose the pregnancy. Shayo joined her husband in the beatings. When they weren’t beating her, they were piling house chores on her. They prevented her from going to church because she was, in their words, a disgrace to their family. The only time Tolulope was happy was when she returned to school but even that was a drag. Her course mates gave her that how-can-you-be-born-again-and-pregnant look. She couldn’t explain that she had had sex with Femi in a moment of weakness and the result had been the baby. She couldn’t explain that she had prayed to God, begged for His forgiveness and felt that she deserved the suffering she was facing at the moment. Femi’s mother, who had been so loving when they were introduced, suddenly became a monster when Femi told her about the pregnancy. She swore that Tolulope was the corrupting influence on her very Christian son. She swore that when Tolulope gave birth, she would take ‘their baby’ and be done with her. Tolulope was afraid she would lose her child. So every day, she prayed, hoped and begged God to let the child be okay and to be able to keep it. Maybe God finally took pity on her. *** Tolulope had not seen her sister’s family in two years. Since that day when she took out the IV line from her hand, took her baby and walked out of the hospital, she had not even thought of them. She was happy with her beautiful child and even though she had to hide the effects of Femi’s physical abuse from the inquisitive eyes (and hands) of her daughter, she was happy. Oh! She didn’t tell you? Femi was abusive too. From the moment she turned up at his door, he took every opportunity to beat her. And he had many excuses; she was a temptress, she
Goodbye Yola! Thanks for the Hard Knocks
The first time I visited Yola, Adamawa state, was when I went for my National Youth Service Corps (NYSC) in October, 2012. It was the first time in my life that I went far from home…and for me, it was my final escape from all I knew. I was crowned the #MissNYSC for my batch even though I protested my involvement in the beauty pageant. In camp, I met my homie of life, Dr. Hameed Olawale, who is such a good man and an awesome friend! Yola is a simple town in comparison to towns like Kaduna, Kano and Abuja; the only other towns I had been to at that time. Though simple, I fell in love with the town. I had so many activities that defined my stay; I was teaching at Government Girls Secondary School, Yola, I attended almost every House of Refuge church activity and I spent time playing basketball. Don’t hate! I know I suck at it. On the 7th day of February, 2013, my Head of Department in church, Frama Ambrose, told me to get dressed as he was coming to pick me up. He told me I was to be on radio and though I was nervous, I hurriedly dressed up. That was the day I started #Campus360 (airing on FM GOTEL, 91.1). I met the man behind the #Campus360 idea – Stanley Innocent – and I grew to respect him and jump on many other projects with him. Few weeks later, the state coordinator of NYSC sent word to me that I would be crowning the Batch ‘A’ #MissNYSC. I went to the NYSC variety night and that was where I met my bestie and darling, Oluwashadeayo Opeyemi. As fate would have it, she was posted to the same school where I served and our friendship stuck! Shade is the reason I learned to bake cakes and till tomorrow, she is one of my best friends! Soon enough, we were both hosting #Campus360. In March of 2013, Frama married his heartthrob, Aesha Yanuti and he couldn’t have married a better woman! She became our mama and she loved us like we were her family; which we are! Together, they showed us that marriage can be awesome and beautiful and fulfilling; in spite of its many challenges. In May, the supervisor of the FM unit, Madam Chika Ngalome, called me and Shade and asked us to start a program on fashion and lifestyle. We started #Standout in the third week of May. From that moment, Madam Chika fought for me like I was her daughter. Many people thought I was; her daughter. And just as she would fight for me, she would chastise me from here to England if I did wrong. She is a true definition of a mother! By September, Peter Cheman Koti or the #RadioCaptain as he is fondly referred to, asked me to join the #Lunchbox team. He gave me a day and I made it fun! LOL! After some time again, Peter asked me to join the #MorningSplash team and I jumped at the opportunity. Madam Chika got us to do something centered on women and children and YOU KNOW I WILL LITERALLY GIVE MYSELF FOR THAT! That was how the ladies edition of #MorningSplash was born. I met Charles Emuze or as many call him, DaVinci. We actually became friends after Charles gave me an IQ test and the result was above average. LOL! Many would think that is condescending but for me, it was thrilling! I loved that he was confident enough to surround himself with people who shared his intelligence and while many men walked on egg shells around me, he was cocky and confident! If you still feel some type of way, I am sure you wouldn’t understand why I love Sheldon Cooper. And if you don’t know who Sheldon is, then I cannot help you. Charles was the one who urged me to start my blog and aspire for more with my writing. Now to my darling Abdullahi Ahmed! What started out as us being colleagues became the creation of a friendship that will stand the test of time! We were a dynamic team because we truly enjoyed each other’s company and listened to each other about improving our craft. Stanley told me once that I was beginning to sound like Abdul and I laughed! Of course! Abdul is one of the finest presenters I know! He is witty, intelligent, well-spoken and a master of his craft! If you know me, you know that I am sapiosexual and a person’s IQ is my biggest attraction! Abdul would force me to read articles out loud to help with my breathing and news presentation skills and for that, I would always remain grateful. Plus, I saw a side to him most people didn’t know! LOL. I got to meet other really great people like my baby Ololade Hassanat Abdul Kareem who had been my partner on #Lunchbox and #Standout for almost two years, the most elegantly dressed lawyer North of the Niger, Barrister Tochukwu Eziukwu, who is about to launch his book, Ibrahim Gwalem who is my ever pragmatic friend and Kaliat Innocent, my darling of life! By February 2015, I was invited by the Head of Programmes, TV GOTEL, Mr. Victor, to a meeting. In that meeting, Yetunde Oshunbiyi (Aunty Yetty) and Aaron Isaac (Uncle Aaron) were in attendance and the agenda? They wanted me on #Safiya #BreakfastShow. I was flattered but worried as hell! I knew I had the talent but I get VERY worried when people look at me. Abdul convinced me to do it and I did! I guess I was good at it, if the viewers’ comments were anything to go by. And because I ain’t no backside kisser, one particular episode got the Governor of Adamawa state so mad, I got kicked off the show. LOL! That is a story for another day! I ran a cake business and
Dad, Mum…You Failed Us!
Mrs. Jatau saw the light on her phone before it began to ring. She was almost sure it was her first daughter calling. She was not wrong. ‘I am just putting the last touches to my makeup. I will soon be there’, she rushed before her daughter could say anything. ‘Okay Mum. We are waiting for you.’ Annabel responded as she dropped the call. Mrs. Jatau sighed. She could not put it off anymore. She took her keys and purse, sent a prayer to heaven and left her house. She was going to her daughter’s wedding introduction. *** ‘Daddy, come out of your room now! Ha ahn! Do you want the guests to come in and wait for you?‘ Sandra all but shouted. She was the last child of the Jataus’ and had grown up when their parents had gone soft. She could say anything to them; which was slightly different from her four elder ones. ‘I said I am coming now! Go away and leave me alone.’ he responded in his rich tone. ‘Daddy, if you are not out in two minutes. I will break your door oh!’ She returned, pouting her lips and stamping her feet. She may be 20 years but she was all child. ‘If you like, burn the house sef. I will only come out when I deem fit. And I can see that mouth that you are pushing up. I have always told you that it makes you look like fish…a Tilapia.’ Sandra laughed and walked away. Mr. Jatau sighed. He could not hide in his room anymore. He admitted he was scared. But if he remained in his room, that would be awfully rude to the guests he was expecting. Though he had never had a good relationship with his oldest daughter, this was not the time to completely ruin what was left of it. He sucked in air into his large tummy and opened the door. The sooner he got over this, the quicker he could go to the club house and share some laughs with his cronies. He walked down the stairs to his living room. *** This was the first time in 18 years that the entire Jatau family was seated in one room. Oliver, the first child, was reclining in one of the sofas. Tall, buff and selfish, he managed to look like a king. The three daughters sat together on the sofa, with Robert, their adopted brother, sitting in between Annabel and Elizabeth while Sandra sat on the floor. The sitting arrangement was such that both their parents sat opposite them. Mr. and Mrs. Jatau managed to sit as far apart as possible without looking like they were trying to do. Annabel sighed. She cleared her throat and began. ‘Dad, Mum…before our guests turn up, we have some things to tell you. I will start and my siblings will join in.’ She looked from one parent to the other and then her sisters. Her parents were trying all they could not to squirm but it was not working. It was as uncomfortable for them as it was for her. She sucked in her breath, stared at the floor, and started talking. ‘Today is exactly 18 years since you got divorced.’ The finality in her voice had a ring of judgment to it and it got the desired effect on her parents; guilt and shame. Even though they had been divorced that long, Mrs. Jatau maintained his name because in Africa, you are better off with a ‘Mrs.’ attached to your name. ‘I will start with you, Daddy.’ This time she looked straight at her dad. He dropped his head and put his arms between his thighs; the classic pose he took when he was insecure, sad or contemplative. Annabel knew she had to get the edge off her voice. ‘Daddy, you were never nice to Mummy…well, not never. But in most cases, you weren’t. I grew up seeing Mummy pick up the slack when you should have been taking care of us. You were more a man-about-town, spending for other people, than you were in catering to your family’s needs. Mummy never let us go hungry, even if you never brought in any money’. That was Elizabeth’s cue. ‘Daddy, all through our stay in school, you never paid school fees on time; sometimes paying the first term fees in second term. We got to be known as one family that alwaysdefaulted in fees. It was so bad that one teacher came into the class to drive students who had not paid school fees and as soon as he entered, he said “Elizabeth Jatau, I don’t need to look at the list to know your name is on it. So pack your books and go home.” I wanted to die Daddy! Everyone in class laughed. I acted like I was okay but my spirit broke’. ‘Even when Mummy paid our school fees, you beat up Annabel for daring to accept the money’, Sandra said. There was a catch in her voice and that pricked her father and mother. She was their baby, and they were all fiercely protective of her. Mrs. Jatau started crying. She didn’t plan to but her eyes couldn’t hold back anymore. Mr. Jatau maintained his stoic expression. He still had his head down. Annabel continued. ‘When the divorce finally pulled through, you banned us from seeing our mother. When, after less than three months, you married again, and our lives became a living hell. Your wife would maltreat us…’ Annabel’s voice wavered. The tears were about to drop, but she controlled it. She sniffed just as Robert rubbed her back. She smiled at him and faced her father again. ‘I remember when Mummy bought us school scandals. You came home, went straight to our room like you knew Mum had brought us things. You rounded up the scandals and poured kerosene on them. With one strike, they went up in flames. We watched them burn, knowing you were not going to
Dad, Mum…You Failed Us! (2)
Family Praying in a Church.Image: The Catholic Sun To get acquainted with the Jatau family, flip to the beginning; ‘DAD, MUM…YOU FAILED US!’ She returned with chilled glasses of orange juice for everybody. ‘I diluted yours Dad, Mum. Y’all are too old for such sweetness.’ No one but Oliver seemed ready to take their drinks. Oliver gulped his and reached out to take Annabel’s. The look she gave him would have quelled a more sensitive man. He shrugged and reclined further into his seat. Elizabeth felt she could continue. ‘Mum, as much as you love us, you do not want us to have a mind of our own. You want us to look like you and act like you do. My personality is similar to yours but even at that, we are very different. The more different we are to you, the less tolerant you are of our views. You may have taught us to be strong women, but you only want us to be strong as long as we are not going against you. That is not fair mummy.’ ‘You asked me for my view before you divorced dad and that was the only moment I felt connected to you.’ Annabel continued immediately. ‘You spoke to me like an adult and when I told you I would rather have you alive than dead, I meant it. I am also glad that you did not wage a custody battle for us. You knew that, with the messed up constitution we have, you would not have stood a chance’. Annabel gave a sign and her sisters came to her. They were now facing their parents again. ‘There are so many issues that we can mention but we will let them slide for now. This is the summary. Dad, you were not a good father to us. You were selfish, unbothered and inappropriate with us. Gosh! You used to bring your girlfriends to the house for sleepovers! You disrespected us and treated us no better than strangers. Mum, you took your anger out at us and sometimes beat us to the point of abuse. We understand that you grew up in a different generation with different values and different ways of life but we have friends whose parents were in your generation and are completely different from you!’ After a quick breath, Annabel continued. ‘Dad, Mum…’ her sisters rallied closely around her. Robert stiffened. Something major seemed about to happen. Mr. Jatau looked up and looked at each of his daughters. For the first time that night, he also looked at his ex-wife. They shared a look and quickly looked away. Somehow, they knew that the next words out of Annabel’s mouth would shatter them…probably more than they could bear. The tears started flowing again from Annabel’s eyes. ‘…I am not getting married. There is no one coming in for any introduction. This was just a ruse to get both of you in one room to talk about this family.’ It was Oliver who reacted first. ‘What?! WHAT?! ARE YOU MAD?! ALL THE HUGE PREPARATIONS AND NOTHING IS HAPPENING?!’ ‘Shut up Oliver!’ both parents shouted. It was a sync that was long coming! Oliver shut up faster than a hat could drop. He mumbled a bit to himself and finally became quiet. Mr. Jatau looked sharply at his children and sat up straighter. A shiver of fear ran down their spines; all of them. They might all be grown up but they knew that no one messed with their father. ‘Can you say that again?’ His voice was quiet yet menacing. Annabel couldn’t find her voice. She was shivering and fidgeting. She looked at her sisters and Robert. Robert looked away. Sandra squeezed her hand and Elizabeth coughed. No one seemed willing to be the one who would dare respond. As Annabel fidgeted, Elizabeth cleared her throat and continued. ‘You know how in Africa, you don’t just marry the girl/boy, you marry the family? Well, you raised us poorly and worse, you put your business out there for everyone to see so, if we were to go by your history and African values, we are not a family that anyone would like to marry into.’ Drawing courage from Elizabeth, Annabel found her voice. ‘You messed up our lives. You refused to think of our future. Many men have come for my hand and turned away because their family didn’t want such a dysfunctional family as in-laws. So I only dated men who were as broken as I was so that I wouldn’t have to face the pain of rejection again. Our family is too warped to be good enough for any other African family. And that is why we are here today.’ She paused to fill her lungs. After exhaling slowly, she continued. ‘We grew up hating you; most especially me. I hated you dad, as much as I hated mum. I couldn’t stand you. As soon as I got an opportunity to leave the house, I left for good. I wouldn’t have come back home if Sandra hadn’t spoken to us’. She looked up at Sandra and smiled. She ruffled her hair and faced their parents again. ‘She might be the youngest, but she is the wisest of us all. She has been praying for the restoration of this family and when she came to live with me a year ago, she got me talking about this family. Soon, we invited Elizabeth and Robert and we started having family sessions to iron things out.’ ‘You might have hurt us but it turned out for good. We are all intelligent, independent girls who have learned to be the best to ourselves and to the world. While we suffered lack in the house, we never resorted to selling our values for our needs. We learned to make do with what we had and have. Most other girls would have thrown them self at any Tom, Dick or Harry to make ends meet. Not us! Our situation made us develop self-esteem that was far above what
