Reflecting on my childhood experiences and what has shaped who I am today, it's nothing short of God's grace and the parents and guardians He placed to watch over me. During that moment, I thought everything being told to do was their way of punishing me, but looking back now, I could only thank them for moulding me into the person I am.
African parents can sometimes be mean, at least the way we see them to be, because of how they'd burden us with a load of chores, especially if you are the first child among your younger siblings. When our big sister was taken away to our grandparents at age three, I became the senior sister to my 3 younger siblings.
I was always blamed for their nonchalant attitudes because they expected me to control them, but what do I do when I have such stubborn younger ones that wouldn't listen to me, but to run behind our parents, and what you'd hear from them would be, "What's wrong with you sef? Don't you know you are their mother? How are you not ashamed of yourself! Agbaya!" 😃
"Agbaya" is a Yoruba slang that means, as a senior, you aren't ashamed of yourself for bringing yourself low to their level.
I was always pained when I heard such a word, and that would make me behave as a big sister I ought to be.
Every time, I would be the one to pay for my siblings' wrongdoings, except on days when our parents would want to scold them to do what they needed to do. This was why I didn't hesitate to beat the hell out of them first if they didn't heed my instructions, and even if I was scolded back, at least I had done something to please me.
It was always annoying to wash plates and clothes, sweep the floor, literally do everything, because my siblings were there running around. Since they knew they wouldn't be beaten, it gave them the freedom to misbehave.
It became more like a suffering to me when I was taken to live with my aunt. I didn't want to go at first, but for my dad, who had to bundle me inside the bus that day from Mowe to Ibadan (like an over 3-hour journey), where she stayed. I have heard a lot about my aunt, that was why I didn't want to go.
She was a dry cleaner who was and still is a workaholic. Even at age sixty now, when I call her, it's either she's in church or behind her house from morning till evening working. I have never seen someone working that way like her. I don't know who to give the award to between her and a wall clock 😃 like, this woman doesn't rest. Even at night, she's up praying.
When I lived with her, omg, I thought she didn't like me. It became more like a truth because she isn't my parent, and using me to become like her was nothing but wickedness to me. There are times I wish to curse her, but I couldn't because it won't affect her, though. There was a time I called my parents to come and take me away from her because she was maltreating me, but their response was for me to endure.
I never knew her rigorous training on me would pay off, but as a young girl who doesn't like to be stressed, I never liked her way of making me work for hours and even when I needed to sleep at night, she would just come to wake me up suddenly and when I check the time, it would be around 1 am. Hahaha. What kind of life is this? I would grudgingly whisper.
As a dry cleaner, she needed electricity more than anyone else in that area, and so, any opportunity of Nepa bringing the light, she would be awake to iron clothes. Many times, I have prayed and wished the light wouldn't come in at midnight because this woman would wickedly come to wake me up, and not minding how tired I was from the previous day, and if you check, she was the one who used me.
The only time I was free would be when there were no clothes to wash or iron (I used to feel happy during those times), but I was also being careful not to wish business didn't come since that was where she was feeding me.
Another time would be when she would just find one job hidden secretly, but because she doesn't like sitting idly, she would invite me, too. On days there were no clothes to wash, it was either we were outside weeding grass that didn't concern us or filling up the road that had potholes with sand.
Like, who sent her work to do? This was a job meant for the landlords or youth in the area to do; why make me suffer unnecessarily like this? I knew that was wickedness of a higher level, and there was nothing anyone would tell me to believe otherwise.
But look at me today. I can work for hours and not feel tired unless I need to rest. I love being neat and my room staying clean. What I thought was wickedness and punishment from my aunt turned out to be something I am enjoying today, and every time I remember those moments, it makes me whisper a word of prayer to God for taking me to her place. It made sense to me today.
