Should children be exposed to know the problems in the family?
I'm going to use my home and what I experienced at an early age as an example here, which informs my opinion on this question.
My parents, dad and mom, weren't the most financially stable team, which is one of the biggest problem solvers in any home. They struggled a lot, and I knew it even at that age, though they tried to hide many things from us. You see, the home setting wasn’t big enough; it was just two rooms and a parlour, and most times, the parlour served as the converging point for everyone. Sometimes, we would catch mom and dad talking in deep, slow tones, and at other times, quarrelling. But the moment they noticed any of us around or entering the house, they would put on a dramatic display, like those in the movies, to pretend that all was well.
That’s just one example of talking, quarrelling, and getting caught unaware. There were many things they did to cover up and make us smile, trying to convince us that everything was fine, even as they struggled behind the scenes.
There was a particular period when two of my siblings and I didn’t pay our school fees on time. We were warned repeatedly in school to remind our parents about the fees. We usually paid our fees on time, but that particular season was tough for my parents. We would tell my dad, and he would promise to pay tomorrow or the next day. Oftentimes, when it got to Thursday and we still hadn’t received the money, we knew it would definitely extend to the following week because Fridays weren’t considered a big deal in school.
One day, a Friday, during those bouts of procrastination, we were flogged severely in school to send a strong message to our parents. I still wonder where local schools adopted this method and how they thought flogging could generate school fees.
When we got home that day and told my dad, he pleaded and promised to get the money ready by the following Monday. We didn’t take him seriously; we saw it as one of his usual promises, especially with the familiar intonation that accompanied the words, “on Monday.” We had heard it so often during that period that it had almost lost its meaning.
Well, Monday came. Early that morning, while we were sluggishly bathing for school, he returned on his bike from wherever he had gone and handed the school fees to us. We were teenagers at the time and capable of handling money, so he didn’t escort us to school. We were happy and didn’t bother to find out how he had suddenly gotten the money.
However, much later, during one of those deep, lamenting talks with my mom, I found out that he had borrowed the money from his Meeting Group(A group of friends that saves money in pulse, not the coperative society thing) to pay our school fees. I felt terrible when I learned this because for him to go as far as borrowing money just to pay our fees meant that things were really tough at home. They had been trying so hard to push through and make things look fine.
Even during those times, feeding was never an issue for us. We still ate like there was no tomorrow.
As time went on and we grew older, my dad began to let us in on things bit by bit. For instance, he would ask us to skip school so we could all go together to the farm and harvest produce to sell in order to settle some financial issues. During those times, we often frowned, especially because we didn’t like farm work, but we considered his requests and helped out. My younger siblings were spared from this knowledge and involvement because they hadn’t reached that stage yet.
Now, everyone at home is an adult and fully aware of what was happening back then things happening now.
Thanks.
I wrote this in response to Hive Naija prompt, the first option.