Time. What an unstable and fickle thing time is! It is always ticking; it never stops, and we can never turn it back. I would like to turn it back, though. Maybe I would have loved my father more, guarded my heart, or been young and free without the added responsibility of adulthood. Alas! My wish to turn back the hands of time never came true.
I remember one afternoon after school. I was twelve years old. My sisters and I got back home from school at 3p.m., and then we proceeded to get comfortable and do our assignments and house chores. And after that, we snuck out to play with our neighbours. The compound we lived in was large enough to house six three-bedroom flats and three mini-flats with six garages, and there were still about two extra empty plots of land left to play in.
We played ball, switching from football to volleyball while listening to the honk of the car horn. Usually, if we heard a particular honk and figured that it was our parents’, we would run inside because playing during school days was prohibited. On this particular evening, though, my parents didn't honk this time; they drove right into the compound because the gate was left unlocked and wide open. They caught us! Still, we ran inside the house, though, like they never saw us. We then ran back out to welcome them.
‘Welcome, sir. Welcome, ma’, we greeted.
‘Hmm-hmm’, my dad groaned in response.
‘Oh-oh. Okun’, my mom said to us in our native language, which means well done. We helped gather their bags from the car and took them into the house along with my mother while Dad locked the car. It was 7 p.m., and everyone went into the kitchen to prepare dinner except dad, who changed into comfortable clothing, sat in the sitting room, and switched the TV on to NTA, channel 9.
My sisters and I expected our parents to talk about seeing us play outside, but they didn’t. Not until dinner was cooking and we were all asked to go to the sitting room to kneel down and raise our hands in the air. Mom joined my dad in the sitting room and asked us to state what we had done wrong. We were on our knees for thirty minutes to ponder what we had done—breaking a rule. For some reason, no harsh words were issued at us, and so my sisters were told to go into their bedroom and stay there while I remained on my knees.
‘Seyi’, my mom called me by my native name.
‘Ma?’, I answered, wondering while I was still on my knees with my hands raised to the air. She called me by my name twice more, and I answered her.
‘How many times did I call you?’, she asked.
‘Three times, ma’, I replied.
‘Do you know what you did wrong?’, she asked. I took a look at my dad sitting in one corner of the sitting room, observing what was happening in silence. I looked at her and said, ‘I broke the rule of playing outside on a school day'.
‘Well, that is true. But that is not the only thing you did wrong. I am giving you another chance to think again. She paused for a few minutes, and after seeing my puzzled expression, she asked, ‘Do you know your position in this family?’
'I am the eldest child’, I said.
‘As the eldest, do you know that your sisters are looking up to you and that whatever you do, they will copy?’.
I was silent, as I could think of no response.
‘It is your duty to care for your siblings and guide them, especially if we, your parents, are not there. You, as the eldest, shouldn’t be found breaking rules without regard for the consequences. You are hardworking and honest, and you never steal, but respect for our rules and instructions is something you must work on. And if you do, your sisters will too’, she admonished.
I could only look down at the floor sullenly.
‘There is time for everything, Seyi. A time to play and a time to rest. We did not make those rules to cage you in, but we made those rules for you to understand how important time is, how to use it, and how to manage it. You are my firstborn child. I want you to be the best, and I want the best for you’, she added.
‘Go to your room and think about it. I will call all of you when dinner is ready’. She said this, smiling at me.
I went into my room, and my sisters were waiting there for me. I got there, and my sisters tried to play with me, but I felt too unhappy to play with them. I tried to think about what she told me. I thought long and hard. I couldn’t understand the time thing, as I believed I should get to play every day after a long day of work. I also wanted to be someone my sisters looked up to in a good way.
‘Food is ready!’, my mom called out, breaking me away from my thoughtful state.
‘Yeah!’, my sisters and I screamed in excitement until we got to the kitchen to line up with our plates, and as usual, dad’s food gets served first, and I am the one to take it to him on the dining table along with drinking water and cutlery. Our food that night was a local dish of ‘amala’ and ‘ewedu soup’, made from cassava and spinach, respectively.
I loved every bit of serving my dad's food while I was young. There are things I still miss and want to do sometimes, but this isn’t the time for them. I am an adult now, and I need to chart my life and create my own family as time goes on.
Parents are a blessing, even the harsh disciples are a show of affection
Always😊
Thank you 😁 @jjmusa2004
Being someone your sister would look up to is the best as being the best sister is what we all longed for.
Ya, serving your dad is a great peioriy
😊😊😊😊
May God help me.
Thank you for reading and commenting😊 @abigail04
I was thinking you'd be flogged but it appeared that your parents know better. Sometimes, it's not always about the beating but talking sense into the child
Lol... Actually, they started to talk more to me from age 12.
Thank you for reading and commenting😊 @cypher09
At 12 years old, like it or not, you are still learning. Some countries/cultures have a 12-year-old closer to being an adult than a child. Whichever country you are from at only 12 you still have lots to learn. The lesson you mother was trying to teach you is a good one. I am the oldest in my family, but I am less than 1 year older than my sister and she is less than 1 year older than my brother. Still, I tried to teach them things, although I know I wish I would have done a better job.
I know and I can imagine how tough it must be. You can only do what you can @ninong7 and not everything goes the way you want it to. Learning and adapting is important.
Thank you friend 😊
Your parents were strict, but they seemed to have a very mature method of chastisement—pushing you to understand your actions rather than making you, simply, apologise. You writing does a good job of illuminating the incident, visually, for the reader. Nicely done!
😊 Thank you for your kind words @inkwell
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The way your parents disciplined you - firm yet very kind. And it is true they want the best for you. You must have enjoyed your childhood yeah?
Yes I did. I wouldn't have had it any other way as everything that happened has contributed to who I am today.
Thank you 😊 @deraaa
Your parents raised you in a disciplined and strict manner. I see a lot of children who are educated strictly by their parents will be successful later in life.
That's the hope. We keep doing all we can.
Thank you @randenkusumo666
you're welcome