So, I had just finished my West African School Certificate Examination, (WASC), in 1975. In my own eyes, the world was my oyster. I was not only 16, I was also a ‘big boy’ with my well manicured Afro. I had a girlfriend who was turning 14. Her birthday was going to be in a few days, and I had to be there.
I needed to come up with a plan for my father to allow me to go out in the evening.
“Papa,” I said, “I would like to go and watch a movie at Regent Cinema.”
“Are you going alone,?” he replied.
“No sir,” I said. “I will be going with my best friend, Kingsley.”
“In that case then, no problem. Here’s money for both of you. Have fun.”
I went off to my girlfriend’s party. Sarah was a very beautiful girl. In fact, in my little world at the time, I thought she was the most beautiful girl I had ever seen. Imagine dreaming of a future with the most beautiful girl in the world when you are a mere 16 years old, but I did.
I was at her house. The party was nowhere near starting. 7pm. 8pm. 9pm. Now, 10pm was my curfew. What was I gonna do? My house was maybe, 20 minutes away—by foot. We walked everywhere in those days, and life was sweet.
The party began to rock from about 11pm, way past my curfew.
Trouble.
How else was I going to prove to my girlfriend that I was a grown man, and unafraid? This was the first time I was ever going to dare my father. What audacity!!!!!
I stayed at the party till the following morning. I had cooked up an excuse in my mind. It was a long shot, but an excuse nevertheless. It might work, it might not work.
I began the short, but ‘very long’ walk home as I knew, and dreaded the certain fate that awaited me—- my father’s judgement and his ever present cane.
At the time, we lived at 69 Igun Street, near Agbado market, Benin City. You could see my house from the junction that led to the house from Akpakpava road. My father was in the compound, pacing back and forth. Now, that I am a father of three children, the youngest of whom turned 28 this February, I can begin to imagine the agony I put my father through that night. The man had granted me permission to go out. On top of that, he gave me money for my friend, and I to enjoy ourselves. Why did I choose to pay him back the way I did? Was it love or stupidity that was propelling me? The man stayed awake all night. There were no phones in those days to search for me. He must have wondered if something terrible had happened to his son. My behavior put him through agony the entire night. He had not slept. One child was missing. Me.
The moment he saw me, he went into the house, and sat on his chair, cane by his side. Every time I think of that moment, it reminds me of the story of the father of the prodigal son. The Bible says: The father lifted up his countenance, and he saw his son from afar.
I stood at the door, wondering whether to go into the firing squad, and face my punishment like a man that I thought I was or just disappear into eternity. That minute has held the record as the longest minute of my life ever. Nothing comes close.
I stood in front of the Judge. He was calm. My carefully crafted excuse had melted away. I was confused. He went through my interaction with him the previous evening as I nodded my head in agreement. “Yes sir,” I replied to every single comment he made. And then, the finality. “Where did I go wrong in granting you permission to go to the cinema?”
“I am sorry sir,” I said. “Please forgive me sir.”
See his classic reply—“I will not sacrifice Justice for Liberty. No sinner must go unpunished.”
I was a dead man. He pronounced judgement on me—48 strokes of the cane. In that moment, my eldest sister came out of her bedroom. She lived in Lagos. She had come on a visit to Benin to inform Papa about her upcoming marriage. She loved me. I was always like her child. She had thrown me an unforgettable birthday party when I turned 12, four years earlier. She went on her knees to beg for a reduction of my death sentence from 48 strokes to 12. The man had great affection for his first child. Papa agreed.
I laid face down on the ground, stiffened my buttocks, ready to take my punishment.
Papa was a good man. He raised 9 children, and many other relatives who came through our home. Even though I am an old man now, my curfew remains 10pm. Indeed, the Bible is correct in saying you must train a child in the way he should go. When he grows up, he will not depart from it. Whenever I go to parties these days, I am always watching the time. It’s hard, almost impossible for midnight to catch me outside my home.
I saw Sarah a few months ago at a funeral party in Benin City.
She is still beautiful. She is a grandmother now.
Life has been kind. God has been gracious.
The End.
O’meekey O. Ovienmhada.
Author, Poet, Playwright, Editor-in-Chief and Publisher—Egogonewshub.com
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The Love of a father. Walking in the Ancient landmarks. Good one.
This piece took me down memory lane, thank you for this brilliant article.
WHAT THE CARING AND LOVING FATHERS GOES THROUGH IN RAISING CHILDREN FOR POSTERITY
THANKS O’ MEEKY