This is supposed to be about me and my experiences. Well, that’s what it is though. Family is part of an experience. It is a lifetime experience. So I’ll introduce you briefly to my family to build the foundation for later posts.
My dad: He’s an interesting friend, a handsome and loving father that would make you feel at home with his jokes and stories. Despite his tight schedules during the day, he would still make out time to tell my sister and I tales. A strict disciplinarian as well. Parents would at some point or another report their children to him and as usual, he’d discipline them in the way he deemed fit while their parents thanked him. He flogs once in a while and for people like me who gets scared of a whip, I cry for days after being flogged. I hate that nonsense but growing up, this is unavoidable. Just like Solomon Grandy, he died. This is a story for another day.
My mum: She’s the more serious version of my dad. She could flog you hourly, daily or weekly depending on your crime. She didn’t have patience for stubborn children. Not the slightest. In all her arguments with my dad, I’ll always take my dad’s side. Don’t ask why. She’s quite a calm and intelligent woman.
My Brother: He’s too quiet to a fault. Occasionally, my mum would ask if he’s deaf and dumb because dude doesn’t like talking. I remember his first term holiday in the seminary school, while gisting us on events that go on in his school, my cousin asked, “so Chuka, does it mean you’re now a priest?” This one doesn’t have patience cha cha. Ask him one stupid question, gist don end be that. I can’t even speak of his talents because I’ve only seen him dance once and that’s many years back when he was dancing to Michael Jackson’s Billie Jeans. Then, his moves weren’t that bad sha. What I don’t know now is whether he has improved or depreciated. And yes, dude owes me a lot of money. Money that runs into millions…lol.
Me: sometimes stubborn, sometimes loyal. It all depends on context. I do more house chore than kitchen chore. I lied a lot as a child to evade strokes but even at that, it still found its way one way or another. You could get flogged for lying as well as committing an offence and having the effrontery to speak up. You see? It wasn’t easy at all. . Growing up was really fun. I didn’t experience the poverty streak, only my parents did. I was fed, clothed and housed so I didn’t understand what it meant not to have. I only grew up to realize that things changed at some point. Academically, I was sound but my mathematics was poor. My dad is a mathematician and he took out time to teach me maths. For where? E no gree enter. If I had known that it wouldn’t enter, I wouldn’t have stressed the innocent man with those plenty lessons. Worststill, I had to even go to the university to study English…like who Maths help finally?
My sister: Beautiful and intelligent. The family’s chef. My dad says she makes the best fried rice in the world…washy. But she’s good with kitchen matters I must confess. The baby of the house that always acts like the first child. Growing up, we fought every single day! I had always wanted to prove myself as the Ada of the house but she always stood to challenge my Adaship. It got so bad that my mum kept quiet and watched us fight. She would flog the opponent that gives up in the fight. The woman tire for us big time.
PS: We no longer fight, we only argue.
I have a wonderful family, I know you do too. If I may ask, what’s special about your family?
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