Forty Days and Forty Writes
By: Chinedu Oluwayomi Iroche
Tags: Help, Support, Growing Up, Forty, Growth

Day 11: Support System

Happy to guide PHOTO: Vincent Delegge on Unsplash

“It takes a village to raise a child.” — African Proverb

The African tradition really is about community and taking care of one another. While there definitely is a ‘busybody’ element to it, traditionally, it does come from a place of love and sense of belonging. “You are me and we are you,” as once sung by Maxwell.

Growing up, most households — that I was familiar with, at least — had several people living in them from extended family to friends and domestic help. It really took a village to raise us as everyone chipped in to help, one way or another. I am truly grateful for them.

But this one goes out to the unsung heroes. The custodians charged with our care, as their life’s work. Total strangers, turned workers, turned family, turned key players in our stories. So, so many have come in and out of my life, but some stood out and made a lasting impact on my life, no matter how small. This one’s for you.

Alhaji Yusuf was a driver assigned to my mother at work either late 80s or early 90s and was a fixture till I wanna say 1998. He was the coolest dude. Had the worst dad jokes but they cracked us up. One day, he told us he was a Chief and insisted we called him that, which has been his moniker to this day.

He was a pretty big guy, very dark skinned with tribal marks on his face and what seemed a permanent scowl, but he was the nicest guy ever. I was always jealous that he got to drive my brother, Lanre to school and not Ik and I. Chief would say that he’s ready to drive you anywhere, even the moon, as long as there was a cold stout awaiting him at the destination. In hindsight, maybe not the best compromise when driving kids. Ha ha.

He was a great guy, loved and respected by all our family and friends that knew him. He was everyone’s guy and I’m grateful that he came into our lives and was a solid, loyal calming influence. I know I’m writing in past tense but please, he’s alive and well. We talked a few times a year when I was still in Nigeria and I remember his oldest daughter coming to visit just before we left. His signature greeting, “Hit Bub!” is always a pleasure to hear on the other side of the phone. That’s my guy for life.

Gift was indeed a gift to our family. When my wife and I were dating, she was her older brother’s kids’ nanny. When he got transferred to Qatar for work, the family actually tried to take her along, but the process was no cakewalk, so they had to abandon that plan. As it turned out, the girlfriend’s flat mate, Carol, had just had a baby and needed a nanny, so Gift took the job and pretty much stayed in the family.

When Carol decided her Nigerian adventure was done and it was time to move back to Kenya, it coincided with the birth of my now wife and I’s son, so she just moved in with us. From 2011 to 2018, she helped us raise our two kids and we had no worries. If they were with Gift, they were fine. Nannies in Nigeria characteristically go home for the Christmas holidays and don’t return in the New Year, throwing routines out of whack. This was alien to us as we never had to worry.

Her departure was bittersweet as she gave us short notice that she would be returning to Ghana for a funeral and not returning. In fact, it was actually bitter, ha ha but I’ve chosen to not let that one incident taint all the love and service shown over a decade within the extended family. Her presence truly was a present.

Gift and Bestie circa 2014 PHOTO: Chinedu Oluwayomi Iroche

Aunty Toyin was my cousin Anu’s nanny and pretty much transitioned into a family member as she was around beyond the point of Anu needing a nanny. I remember her being very sweet but firm and took no nonsense. She was reliable and a good cook — well, I know she made me a mean dodo. Aunty Toyin took god care of all of us, even though Anu was her primary concern but everyone got love. Yes, I had a crush on Aunty Toyin, ha ha. She was cute too.

My grandma and Aunty Toyin, after she passed a catering class, I believe PHOTO: Iroche Files

Ngozi was my cousin’s maid who had a voice and demeanor of a wise old lady. She was a tall and strong lady but the calmest soul, a gentle giant. Extremely slow to anger. She took excellent care of us from our pre to late teens and was very dependable and helpful. Hella smart too.

Alhaji Musa was our driver before Chief. Another calm and great guy, while he was nice and playful with us, he cut more of a father figure than big brother or uncle vibe with Chief. I don’t remember him ever raising his voice. He was a great guy.

Ifeanyi is the caretaker at my uncle’s house where I stayed for a while, who was very dependable and always eager to help. A fiercely loyal, intelligent chap who helped make sure we were alright at all times.

Monday was my friend, Dennis’ driver. He was one of the guys and would crack us up with his random tales of his escapades and he also had the filthiest jokes. He was a very cool and reliable chap that we were all loyal to. If he got into trouble with Dennis’ folks, we’d go to bat for him. And he dressed pretty fly too. Real standup guy, Monday.

Emeka is the driver in my Uncle’s house where a bunch of us kids lived in our 20s and 30s. He is an unintentionally funny guy that always has stories to tell. He is a good, loyal dude.

Before Driving Miss Daisy, there was Baba Lanu. He was my great-aunt’s driver and I swear he was older than her. He had those thick glasses that you could probably see Pluto from and sat with his chest pretty much glued to the steering wheel when he drove. They were such a pair, with their old people talk while we kids sat in the car and just marveled at this old man still driving. He was a wise sage but was retired much later than he should have been. Thankfully, this story doesn’t end tragically with an accident or anything. He died peacefully in his ripe old age.

Brother Ahmed is Baba Lanu 2.0. Not that he’s old but he drives my Aunty Ronke, my great-aunt’s first daughter. He’s a cheerful character that looks out for everyone and is someone dependable. A great asset to the family.

Mr. Samuel drove my guardians, the Ahmeds. He was another fatherly figure, a really cool guy. I must tell this hilarious story, though. There was a meningitis (I believe) scare/outbreak in Abuja one year, so my mother, being in the government, hooked us up to get vaccinated i.e. myself and my guardians. My Aunty Halima had a friend who had recently had a baby girl, so wanted her and the nannies to get jabbed too. One of the nannies was a scared mess over the whole thing. She was fretting in Yoruba, so I broke into vernacular to calm her down and told her everything would be fine. Thankfully, we all got out of it with little incident.

The next morning, I got a call from my friend in America, Shola, a very pleasant surprise. I got on the phone, but she didn’t sound like herself. It turned out that this Shola I thought it was, was actually Shola the nanny. Her arm was still hurting but I had promised her it would stop. Stifling my bafflement, I reassured her again and then she went into, “How are you? What are you doing? Are we going to see you again?” Phone call terminated. I was bemused and the house was in hysterics.

Anyway, it blew over and life went on. Saw Mr. Sam later that evening and he’s like, “Oh, did that girl Shola, call you?” My eyes widen as I say a slow, “Yes” and he says, yeah, he gave her the house number because he figured I’d just been holed up in the house doing nothing, so reckoned I could do with some, ahem, ‘excitement.’ I think I was 19 at the time. I just shook my head and thanked him for his concern as I waved him goodbye. Cracks me up every time I remember it.

Mr. Monday also drove the Ahmeds but he was Lagos branch. He was a bit of a loony with a temper but an overall, nice and hilarious guy. There’s a lasting memory of him insulting a guy in traffic with the classic, “You’re a bungalow!” We laughed at him, hard, for he had a way of just hearing words and using them randomly. A while later, it dawned on me. He was basically calling the guy an airhead, for with a bungalow, there is nothing upstairs. I love it to this day. Ha ha.

Mr. Mufu was an unintentional comedian. Scrawny ill-tempered dude but he was my peoples. He drove a 14-seater van, which we dubbed the school bus and we used to fill it up after school and drop people off. Depending on his mood, he would drop you at your gate or at the top of your street and screech at you to get out and walk home. He was annoying but hella funny. I think he was just a frustrated man and driving some spoiled children just rubbed him the wrong way. But I’m thankful for his contribution to my upbringing, get me to and from school safely. Only just. Ha ha.

Mr. Christian drove my sister from another Mister (and Mrs, too), Oare, and we used to attend after school lessons together. Also, when there was a party at the weekend and Oare’s mom needed a ‘responsible’ male chaperone, we’d roll. Mr. Christian was a moody guy that muttered to himself a lot, but he did his job, even if not with a smile.

Throughout my brief life, I have had the pleasure and privilege of meeting so many people whose contributions may not be heralded or recognized but I truly appreciate their sacrifice, efforts and support in my life and that of so many of my people.

None of them may ever get to read this but I will be eternally grateful for them and thank our parents for finding and holding on to some gems.

A part of me is lost if these people are lost from my life. They may have been referred to as domestic help, but their impact meant the world!