Sweetee: A Memoir of a Nigerian Child
By: Blessing Olarewaju
Tags: Childhood, Nigeria, Memoir, Writers Life, Storytelling

It was a windy Sunday afternoon in April 2003.

I stood agitated at our apartment veranda with Arinze, Fejiro, Dare, Ogechi — my playmates, and my little sister, Abigail, in our small compound in Onitsha — the commercial powerhouse of West Africa in southeastern Nigeria where I grew up.

We were playing “Suwe” at the play area inside the compound before the rain began to drizzle and ruined our fun.

The thunderous noise emerging from our flat that afternoon made me sick to my stomach.

Nna Ogechi, Papa Emeka who is popularly known as Onye isi who resides in the next compound and my father converged in our parlour discussing the aftermath of the Nigerian Presidential election which had held the previous day.

My dad in a soothing voice defended, “ Jiri ya nwayọọ, take it easy. We will surely get there and you know this is the first time in 15 years an election is being conducted by a civilian government.”

“Ola, don’t worry. The rain would soon stop so we can resume our play.” Ogechi said to me sympathetically.

I was four years old at that time, an adventurous boy full of life with plenty of energy to waste, jumping and flying around the whole compound like Tarzan — bare-chested, with my favourite oversized brown underwear.

As we argued “who mess the mess”, the drizzle stopped. We jumped excitedly to continue our play.

“Maybe the elephant has finished giving birth. A boy or girl elephant? I pondered.

The sky was cloudless and vibrant as the late afternoon sun descended on the commercial city.

No, No, No… “ we chorused with excitement.

The evening came too quickly.

It was now dusk, time to retire to our various home. But somehow we stayed back because the game “Who stole the meat from the cooking pot?” had reached cloud nine.

“Why did you scratch it? ọla edo m “ my mother quizzed with pity. “I will tell you a story,” she said as she began bathing me.

I remember it was on a particular Eke market day.

My mother took ill, so I had to take the vegetables to the market myself.

I sold all the vegetables in no record time but decided to wait for Ozioma, my friend, so we’d go back home together.

A few minutes later, I observed a group of people hovering around a table in the market.

Chanting and laughing with reckless abandon.

Well, I decided to check out what the amusement was all about.

“Hey! ezigbo nwanyi, fine girl. Come and play a card game and make quick money.”

A man beckoned on me as I arrived at the table. It was a three-card game. All you have to do is pick the “King card” after being shuffled by the handler.

Pretty easy, I said to myself as I dropped three kobos for a bet. Without any hassle, I picked the king card and got double my money.

I continued to play the game and won every market day.

One faithful day, I told to myself.

“Hey! why not play this game with something big and win big and save my parents the stress of selling their properties just to raise my school fees. But where will I get the money?”

On the next market day, I took all of the seventy Naira savings and placed a bet. “I was going to inform my father after the win.”

I was very confident. Astonishingly, I picked the wrong card.

How? I couldn’t believe what had happened because something must have gone wrong.

I wept bitterly as I walked home to inform my parents of my foolishness.

My parents were so disappointed in me.

The gamblers were nowhere to be found.

Two months later, my father died. My mother sent me off to Lagos to stay with my Aunt where I got enlisted as an apprentice in a fashion school.

It was during my training I met your father, a dashing young Captain of the Nigerian Army from Ogun state.

You see my son, life will present you with lots of sweetee, you must be very cautious not to scratch them or else you will end up with blisters.

“All that glitter is not gold.” As you grow to become a man, never make decisions while you are overly excited.

Always analyse situations and make adequate consultations before deciding.

If you must make a mistake, it must be a calculated error. Never gamble with your goals. Stay focused, God will help you.

We joined the rest of the family at the dinner table.

A mountain of pounded yam and Ofe Oha laid helplessly in front of my father. Two separate plates of Spaghetti Jollof for me and my sister.

My father already impatient began to pray “Lord, we thank you for the provision of this food. Bless us and sanctify this food… Amen”

© Olarewaju Blessing

(Lion O.B.O)

#Onitsha #Parenting #Nigeria #Okigwe #UNN #Story

Related