WHO IS MY FATHER

It was a cold rainy evening and I had dashed into the kitchen apartment which was separate from the main building of the family house, I needed help to remove what I wanted from the fire. I had to shout at the top of my voice if I wanted someone in the main building to hear me. I shouted daddy, daddy with every effort I could muster. There was just not a single sign of anyone in sight. So, I screamed all the more at the top of my voice. Then suddenly I heared a clearing of voice at a corner of the kitchen. I was scared, I had not not noticed that there was someone in the dimly light kitchen room. It was my uncle’s wife, and this is what she said the moment I turned to see the voice I heared; ‘hey you this boy, stop calling my husband your father. He is not your father. You see this, this and this, calling out the names of her children, they are his children and you are not one of them. Go and ask your mother who your father is. Cleared?’.

I just stood there not knowing what to say or how to react. I thought, what was she doing in the kitchen? Didn’t she see me when I came in and struggling with the fire? why did she wait untill I was screaming for help before she got my attention? Why is she telling me all these?

In a moment, I rushed into the main building to my mothers room, I knew she wasn’t back anyway. I sat on the bed and hot spring of tears gushed down my face. I must have asked myself the question , who is my father a thousand times. I stood up paced round the room with no definite intentions. I tried to lay down on the bed, but there was no comfort there. I sat up on the bed, tapping my feet on the flour. It dawn on me that even though I had learnt about father in my social studies, I had not taken adequate thought about who my father was. Why didn’t I think about that? I was a big boy at 10. Well, the man she talked about was my uncle, my mothers elder brother, at least I knew that even though I still called him father.  Why haven’t I asked of my father.

Now, am faced with that question,  who is my father? I have never met him, and he is never talked about. What does he look like? Why is he not staying with us? All these and many more questions went through my head with excruciating pains as I waited the only person who had the answers to all of them, my mother.

Well, this was not the first time I was to face that question of who my father is. At 7 when I was to enroll into class 1, during the registration I was asked for my surname I responded with my mothers maiden name which she has retained. But my mother quickly objected suggesting a different name. When I asked whose name that was, she said it was my grandfather’s name, my fathers father. I didn’t want to go by that name because I did not like the way it sounded. So I asked, don’t my father have a name? She mentioned my fathers name and I decided to go with it. That’s still my name today. But for the first time at 10, the question jumped into my face, who is that man called my father.

The monent my mother stepped into the house, the only thing that was on my mind just came out; who is my father? She tried to wave it off, but when she saw the intensity and firmness in my voice, she knew something was wrong and asked what it was.

I brokedown and again streams began to flow as I narrated the whole drama. She comforted me and assured me that I had a father and that I will certainly meet with him. But all I wanted was to meet him right away. The next day and the day after that were quite uncomfortable for the two of us untill she decieded to take me to my father. What a relief on the third day as we set off in search of my father.

Finally, she announced that is your fathers house. We moved in through the front door straight into the living room, opened another door opening into a corridor and stopped at the last door on the corridor. My mum tapped on the door and was asked to come in by a pleasant sweet elderly voice. She went in first, my daughter, the fair beautiful old woman sitting on the bed said, welcoming her into her arms with delight. Her attention quickly turned to me as she notice my presence. Oh my God, thank goodness. She called my name and beckoned on me to come. You have grown my son she said as she wrapped me in her arms kissing and inspecting every part of me. That’s your grandmother my mother announced. I had nothing to say so, I just observed.

In a moment, I soon discovered that the quite house was full of people even children as they all began to come out from where ever they were to welcome me.  It done on me that my father had other children as they all came to greet their brother. Worst still, they all knew about me and knew my name but it was the first time I was getting to know about them. My head was full and I didn’t know how to react except that they were happy to see me and I was happy to see them too.

Shortly after we all settled down, someone shouted, daddy is back. All the children ran out to meet him and I followed behind them. When he notice me coming behind, he dropped the child he was carrying, walked towards me, touched my head, drew me closer to him, called out my name and said, son. I felt a great relief, this is my father. But it was difficult for me to connect. I just didn’t feel like it but I managed to respond, father and we all went inside.

A few hours past, and my mother was ready to go but everyone wanted me to stay. Because of her insistent to go with me, I was made to choose what I wanted. Off course, this was different from the place I have known as home so I chose to go with my mother with a promise to always come back.

As I write this experience now, it reminds me of a story I read sometime ago. It was the story of a certain Mexican Paco who had offended his father and ran away from home. After many years of hoping and waiting for his son to return home, with no sign of his son ever coming back, his father put a notice on a national daily. The notice read, “ Dear Paco, I have forgiven you. Meet me at such a place on such a day and time” and signed it. When Paco’s father got there on the day, he was amazed to see 310 Pacos who were waiting in the hotel lobby for a father’s forgivness. Paco according to the article is a common name in Mexico and the father in the story only indicated Paco.

What I didn’t realize was that like all the Pacos in that hotel lobby, that single statement, ‘Stop calling him father, he is not your father, these are his children and you are not one of them’ had left an emptiness and a feeling of rejection inside me. And that was going to affect my life adversly for a very long time.

I came to realize this in an experience that confronted my inner feeling of self-pity and self-seclusion.

The tape of the story I have just narrated played back to me in just a split of seconds, I came face to face with a reality I didn’t know existed, and I saw the damage I have allowed into my life. Then I had a surge of sudden confident assurance that filled my heart with a knowing that I was significant. Its very difficult for me to explain now what happed, but in the end I was set free and I began to feel great about myself.

It then done on me that there are poeple who have over time become wired by their experiences. Yet they may not even be aware of it. They go about living their lives in codes and if you don’t observe, you will not know that their words, their actions and reactions are a clue to the codes they display.  From the time a child is born society like the wild starts daily to bombarded him with negative feed backs and experiences, denial, refusal, disapproval and lots of difficult situations that lead to hurt, rejection and fear. As a result, people build high walls around themselves. It an attempt to sheild themselves from what they are really afraid of inside. They pass across deep messages by actions and words they don’t really mean. People around them don’t understand these codes, the message is lost and can even be interpreted as arogance. The result; insecurity, inadequacy,negative self image, not open to others, inablity to maximize full potential and many such things.

People need an environment of security and warmth that allows them to incubate and evolve into their full potential. This what every family should provide for their children. But unfortunately many children are left in the wild. When I think of many girls who are already having sex just to fight back and many young lads who are getting involved in many illicit activities just to prove themselves, I think families should do more to help their children.

If you are a young person reading this, I like to bring this quote to your mind, ‘the greatest form of revenge is success’. Rather than involve in activities that will destroy your life, you could prove the society wrong by deciding to be successful and improving your life. Let me quickly share the story of a girl who did.

In 2012, while we were concluding our project G Yes activities for the year in Ogun state, a student of Federal Government Girls College, Sagamu, came to my office with her friends to thank us for how her life has been changed by the project. I had inivited her to one of our workshop about 8 months ealier. She shared a touching story about herself. She came from a background of abuse. Her father is a drunk and a wife beater. His, is that of a cruel one in the sense that after beating them, he would cut their bodies with razor blade. The scares of the cuts were evident all over her body. She said before I started coming for the Project G Yes training I didn’t see any good about life. I didn’t have any friend, I hadly wash my cloths or take my bath and I didn’t read my books. I felt different from every other girl in school and at home, I was shame of who I was.

She then went on to say, but today, am happy with my self. I have picked up new values and everyday I feel better. And thats why I brought my friends to come and say thank you.

It’s a thin membrane separation between success and failure, being negative and being positive, excellence and mediocrity. And that membrane is attitude, disposition, perspective. It’s so thin yet daily makes a great difference in the lives of people.

However, I have come to learn that whatever knock life throws at anyone is not to mar but to make. Negative experiences and difficult situations are not ment to destroy but to build you into who you really are, to bring out the better side of you.

In 2013, I was a facilitator at the Lagos LEARN project, as a volunteer for Empretec Nigeria Foundation, I taught the basic principles of entrepreneurship. One of the projects given to the students was to make a research on any entrepreneur of their choice and one of my student did a comprehensive research on a notable African businessman Alhaji Aliko Dangote. Her findings were very inspiring, he had times when the future looked bleak and uncertain. But today, against all odds, he has risen above his difficulties.

Its amazing how lives can change so tremendously when people realize that negative experiences are designed to help then develop sturdy character for success. Really, its much easier to become successful and happy than to become a failure, when we simply see negative and diffclt situsation from the right perspective. If you are rejected, accept yourself. If the situation is very difficult, then develop tough skin. There is always a positive side. You are designed to be happy.

This week marks our week of values and we shall  be sharing the stories of our work on this blog. Have fun as you share with us. If you were inspired or touched by  this story, do well to share with someone else, and do stand up for your value this week and all the time.

DANAKY YOUNG PEOPLE ENLIGHTENMENT FOUNDATION...CREATING VALUES