I Remember

I remember the days when I stood outside our little hut; looking at the big houses and wondering when I would be able to walk boldy through its doors. I remember the days mama smiled and told us a boldfaced lie – adults did not eat at night because it would make them lighter to protect their kids; just so we could eat the last morsel and be filled.

I remember the days when “rice” was reserved for special occasion and meat was the reward for extremely good behaviour. I remember how papa shouted at mama when she sold all her wrappers. I did not understand then why he shouted; mama told us it was because the wrappers were old and she had money to buy newer, costlier ones. Little did we know it was to pay for our school fees.

I remember the days when our “Ada” the firstborn got accepted into the University. We were all happy as she was the first in the village to get it. Little did we know the rising tertiary education loomed over my parents. But, somehow, she went, succeeded and came out tops in her discipline.

And I remember clearly how things began to turn around for better. Yes, I walked through those tall buildings I never thought was possible. I could eat rice whenever I wanted and not just with meat, I could afford even chicken.

I was important to people. I mattered. I wished Papa was here to see what I had become. His advice would never be forgotten…the very day before he left this world.

On that day, I was bursting with good news: I had been accepted as an intern for a multinational company and I was one of the two Nigerians selected. We were not allowed to do anything but show up, our visas and flight details were being handled by the firm. I met Papa and rushed through the news; it was hard to contain my joy. I remember saying after my fast speech that I would show them; people that never raised a hand to help all through the years. I told him I would build the biggest mansion and have the most expensive car money could buy.

I was a dreamer and like you guessed, I already knew the colour of the car and the interior of the house. And for all my efforts, I got a resounding slap from my father. He used his last effort to give me that slap as I shockingly saw him wince at the pain the sharp movement he made caused to his weak bones.

He said, “Pride goes before a fall and that no condition was ever permanent”. He ended with a question for me: how many persons I had thought to touch their lives and change it for the better?”. I had no ready answer. Fuming with anger, I did the only thing I could think of- I walked away.

Now, I know what he meant. I hold that advice dear to my heart as I make decisions in life. I will not be proud but content with what I have. I am not better than others because I am me. I may not have that car or house I thought I would and that’s okay. It was too big anyway. More importantly, I am alive and because of that, there is a stronger will to fight on and leave my footprint on the sands of time-one that will never die in the lives of those I will be opportune to help and positively impact.