Desire and Pain in Nigeria
I’ve learnt over the years that for a healthy living to be achieved, happiness and freedom would have to play a key role in one’s life. Whilst growing up, I’ve been inhibited of freedom, whereas I strive to achieve happiness. I’m the only son in the family of four, brought up in an extended family. I bore the joy of a united home when we lived separately.
I’ve always cherished togetherness or cooperation or unity in a family. I’m a firm believer of oneness, because great success stories and achievements are told when family ties are bonded. As a teenager living in a rented house then, I was repeatedly denied freedom — the gateway to true and healthy living.
Spanning from a little boy that had no room of his own to mal-treatment; nobody cared how you felt — your opinion never counted. I couldn’t hang out like other good kids did. Presumably, because I was the ‘only son’ and they were protecting me. Why was it painful? — The feeling; like when a razor slices through one’s skin. If that was the reason, it was punctured because my sisters encountered litany of denial of freedom too in their own way, and in fact sometimes in the peering eyes of the public, due to one thing they did or they’d insisted on doing.
Due to my passion for oneness, I frequently reminded my guardians the need for us to move to our own house, where my uncles occupied. I wanted ‘one big-family’. I did visit my cousins most a times when we lived separately, and certainly when my guardians weren’t around. Later on, we moved to our house in the same village — a full house: with my two uncles, their children, their wives and my grandmother. There was barely enough space to move around, as there was little space in the compound.
At first, we all got along well, we were happy but in a certain way. Meanwhile, my immediate family are the ‘degenerate offspring’ from my grandmother. In other words, my father and my uncles are step-brothers. Back in my father’s house, I still had no freedom, exacerbated by the lack of happiness that I incurred at intervals — I had no room of my own, and I wasn’t allowed to go out unless I was permitted to do so; reminding me of my days in the primary school.
In addition, to be awake late in the night was a crime for whatever strict reason. Even as my guardians had termed it, ‘for your health’, they always addressed you in ‘80 decibels’, no matter what time it was.
My uncles and their wives always ensured to be a constant reminder of disturbance. Little arguments often erupted to assault. I can recall when my grandmother’s youngest son’s wife assaulted my mother. Heated turn of events would start like how the cock crows in the early morning. It reached a crescendo: a point that we couldn’t talk freely in our room. We’d resorted to whispering in order to avoid the ever-attentive ears of our neighbours (relatives). My parents would retreat to a distant room, and speak in a low, muffled tone whenever they wanted to advice us. I adore their gratifying attitude.
Though there was hardly peace in the house, we supported ourselves; my immediate family nonetheless. In the school, I lost concentration in the class — brilliant boy that developed a geometrical decline in grade. I never got enough of both freedom and happiness, as outlined in my essay entitled, ‘Building Peace in our Hearts and Minds’. Often I’d admired my friends then in high school; how their parents treated them, cared for them, and were always there for them especially during the school visiting days.
However, I found out that staying away from home suited my wits, though I was visibly concerned about my family. I felt free and devoid of hurtful thoughts, and experiences. Yet, it wasn’t enough. I needed a bit of closure — ambience of family. Despite all the hassles, the theatrics; I still wanted a ‘love-bond’ family.
During the period of my stay in my sister’s house, I experienced a new-wave of happiness. On my road to personal indulgence in travelling, I understood what it meant to be really happy. Being surrounded by the people I care about makes it fascinating. The knowledge that my family members are faring well mattered to me.
Staying put on my own, and with the precious ones I care about prided me in family-bond nurture. I cherished: feeling at ease, exercising my true self. The ‘solid-rocked’ support from the people that care about me kept me going.
The love, support, care — to protect our own.
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