My Nigerian Upbringing

Back home in Nigeria its never unusual to 'spank' a child when he is wrong. The culture truly speaks of sparing the rod and spoiling the child. My younger brother and I never experienced any form of beating from our Mother as my older siblings claimed. Our father was the cool parent always there to make you happy. They always said "you two were born when Mummy was Old". They always had interesting stories of sneaking out the house to play with friends and how they were caught. They were not allowed to be out of the house. They were had forced afternoon nap after school and compulsory reading. But that doesn't mean that we didn't have more interesting things to say.

It sounds funny in my head as I smile to write this story. Having a Mother that didn't spank me didn't mean that She was old. My never gets old. Her strength is being renewed everyday. I actually see it as she gets younger everyday. The reason for her not spanking us was because she worked till late and came hem just in time for the dinner and family daily night devotion. Now that doesn't mean that I wasn't spanked. Oh! No!!. There is more to the story. Which Nigerian cultured child wasn't? LOL. Everyday after school I was home with these set of people which I termed to be evil. Their common name was 'Aunties'. To me they wee just wicked. They always said "Thats how Mummy trained us too, we have to train you too". I felt they were exaggerating the way my mother treated them. The only harm my mother could cause was to shout. And when I say shout I mean it was loud enough to wake everybody up in the house or call your name from few houses away. That was a super power.

My Aunts forced us t study, Spell, read and write. By the time I was in Primary 5 I could comfortably calligragh with both hand while taking notes in school. Their reaction to indiscipline was so fast we taught we were being beaten ahead of a crime to be committed. Her best weapon was Slippers and 'Sheku' (Kilba word for wooden spoon used to stir tuwo). The way and manner those items appeared in their hands was unbelievable. Before you could imaging the scene the movie was over. The closest comparison I have is the movie THOR when he stretches his hand to grab his hammer.

Before going t secondary school, I saw the significance of all thisThe first time I was top in class I ran to my Aunt first to show her the result. She smiled and said "thats why we are always hard on you". I was so happy that day. Her smile showed fulfilment. There was joy in her eyes. She was married then with a daughter who just started kindergarten. You can't just imagine the pressure that was upon her daughter to read. LOL. Her daughter was unbeaten all her days in Primary school. Today she is in JSS3 and still keeps a high standard in her education. I know that impacting the right discipline in a child based on example and leadership is the best investment anybody can give. You also train generations to train you own generations. My Mum didn't have to pay for a private lesson teacher to achieve that. It was all for free. For me it wasn't for free because it was a horror at that time. 11 years later I'm still seating down to do the same things I was forced to learn.

 I know my parents are proud of me. Even if they didn't directly give the training they wanted for me. They gave it indirectly and It gave a perfect result. I know a lot of people around the world can relate to my story. If you think investing in a child is too much work. Read my story again

Parry Hedima
parryhedima.blogspot.com

An Old man's anonymous poem.....

When an old man died in the geriatric ward of a nursing home in an Australian country town, it was believed that he had nothing left of any value.
Later, when the nurses were going through his meager possessions, They found this poem. Its quality and content so impressed the staff that copies were made and distributed to every nurse in the hospital.

One nurse took her copy to Melbourne. The old man's sole bequest to posterity has since appeared in the Christmas editions of magazines around the country and appearing in mags for Mental Health. A slide presentation has also been made based on his simple, but eloquent, poem.

And this old man, with nothing left to give to the world, is now the author of this 'anonymous' poem winging across the Internet.

Cranky Old Man

What do you see nurses? . . .. . .What do you see?
What are you thinking .. . when you're looking at me?
A cranky old man, . . . . . .not very wise,
Uncertain of habit .. . . . . . . .. with faraway eyes?
Who dribbles his food .. . ... . . and makes no reply.
When you say in a loud voice . .'I do wish you'd try!'
Who seems not to notice . . .the things that you do.
And forever is losing . . . . . .. . . A sock or shoe?
Who, resisting or not . . . ... lets you do as you will,
With bathing and feeding . . . .The long day to fill?
Is that what you're thinking?. .Is that what you see?
Then open your eyes, nurse .you're not looking at me.
I'll tell you who I am . . . . .. As I sit here so still,
As I do at your bidding, .. . . . as I eat at your will.
I'm a small child of Ten . .with a father and mother,
Brothers and sisters .. . . .. . who love one another
A young boy of Sixteen . . . .. with wings on his feet
Dreaming that soon now . . .. . . a lover he'll meet.
A groom soon at Twenty . . . ..my heart gives a leap.
Remembering, the vows .. .. .that I promised to keep.
At Twenty-Five, now . . . . .I have young of my own.
Who need me to guide . . . And a secure happy home.
A man of Thirty . .. . . . . My young now grown fast,
Bound to each other . . .. With ties that should last.
At Forty, my young sons .. .have grown and are gone,
But my woman is beside me . . to see I don't mourn.
At Fifty, once more, .. ...Babies play 'round my knee,
Again, we know children . . . . My loved one and me.
Dark days are upon me . . . . My wife is now dead.
I look at the future ... . . . . I shudder with dread.
For my young are all rearing .. . . young of their own.
And I think of the years . . . And the love that I've known.
I'm now an old man . . . . . . .. and nature is cruel.
It's jest to make old age . . . . . . . look like a fool.
The body, it crumbles .. .. . grace and vigor, depart.
There is now a stone . . . where I once had a heart.
But inside this old carcass . A young man still dwells,
And now and again . . . . . my battered heart swells
I remember the joys . . . . .. . I remember the pain.
And I'm loving and living . . . . . . . life over again.
I think of the years, all too few . . .. gone too fast.
And accept the stark fact . . . that nothing can last.
So open your eyes, people .. . . . .. . . open and see.
Not a cranky old man .
Look closer . . . . see .. .. . .. .... . ME!!

Remember this poem when you next meet an older person who you might brush aside without looking at the young soul within. We will all, one day, be there, too!

PLEASE SHARE THIS POEM (originally by Phyllis McCormack; adapted by Dave Griffith)

The best and most beautiful things of this world can't be seen or touched. They must be felt by the heart!

#BringBackOurGirls

234 Girls have been kidnapped in Nigeria. Does that mean that the ones who are free should act like they are in bondage? All I see on my timeline is people now criticising girls for posting pictures on Facebook because their mates are kidnapped. Does that mean that the free girls can't go on with their everyday lives? They can't be happy to socialise or smile or enjoy? Somethings need to be said. As painful as this may sound to some ears, is that a lot of people still deserve to be happy even in the midst of chaos, destruction and confusion.

Now don't get me wrong, I wouldn't want my mother crying over a missing sibling with no attention, or my sister being taken into captivity by abstract people. I wouldn't want to be the father of an abducted child that would be begging for help from people who were actually careless with lives. Its a bad feeling and worst of it is that no parent knows whats happened to those girls. I believe everybody deserves to know the where about of family and not just make illusions based on press reports.

But the truth be told. Nobody should be criticised for being free because of others in captivity. And because you are free doesn't give you an excuse not to pray for those in captivity or offer any form of support. Your support could be praying, supporting in the campaigns (online and on air), making a peace movement. The purpose of your freedom is to make people free, its not just about you alone. Always remember," How you use your freedom now, determines whether you'll be free in future.

Finally, I would urge everybody to pray, give support, It counts. Always remember," How you use your freedom now, determines whether you'll be free in future. 

Parry Hedima