Fraught Relationships: My Mom and I Part I

“A life is not saved just by letting it be born”

Manuel Soto Jr.

There's a thing common to African mothers, if you are lucky you might never hear them say it in its varying degrees: "I could have been anything I wanted but I chose to be 'your mum’. I am lucky. Forcing down a sense of responsibility to them because of the 'favor' granted by gifting life. Not considering that maybe you were better off staying in heaven, singing hallelujah, and whatever else heavenly people do. Some never say it but you can almost feel it. 

Parents certainly seem to put their children through it; from forcing chores on them, forcing them to do school works, forcing them to write... wow! Children are even forced to speak; say "da-da": what?!

Have you ever had a dream that felt almost too real to be true? That's a child's reality. It's like a dream, too real to be true, except the dream isn't even the child's own to begin with. Sometimes, it's an extension of the parents’ dream or a mistake on their part.

There is a psychology expected from being the responsible African child- a certain path caved even before the child sees the first light; predestined by God, written by parents and if lucky enough you get to add your own twist to the story.

The word 'responsibility' is so weighty and with it comes expectations. Growing up, one thing was certain; I did not want to be the "responsible child". Adulthood dawns on everyone but I do not think it ever dawns on anyone as it grips an average African child (especially a female- like me) living in Africa- A Nigerian living in Nigeria.

Being responsible meant a lot of things I just couldn't grasp when I was younger. At times, I wondered if I was even a child of the house or the maid. It's funny how the young mind would process thoughts. Reminiscing, I have to concede that as the first child, I didn't necessarily do more than my other siblings, albeit how I was asked to do these chores, errands and whatnot was the problem. My situation is somewhat similar to that of the average first child in every home, and more precisely African home, but also different because it's my story and our 'actions processing' differs.

There's no adequate method for parenting. Everyone is either learning on the go, consciously making efforts to be; or not to be the kind of parents they were parented by, trying to weave what they were taught with the world's evolution or all of the above.

‘Ma’ must have grown in the last few good days of the actual uncivilized third world. She would go on and on whether she’s indulged or not about how things used to be so much better in the past. She praised Nigeria for the giant of Africa she believed her to be. She speaks of the days of Abiola and Awolowo as if it were just yesterday. She speaks of the ‘original’ condensed peak milk insisting “we” did not meet the good life. Ma speaks of functional trains and good roads, a government not without her ups and downs but a happy one regardless. Ma is an old soul; I have concluded several times but never had the courage to boldly blurt out. Ma appears strict but has a soft manipulative core. If you ask me, she is a drama queen who acts her part crossed to the 't'. One minute she is admonishing and the next she is in tears because the impact of her words appears to be lost on you, and she does not see you dancing to her tune. Ma is in the wrong century.

“In those days we had plenty. We lived like kings.”

“We may not have had much, but we had food and plenty of that.”

These contradictory statements were some of Ma’s favorite. Even Asa, the France based Nigerian singer and songwriter supports her claims in one of her songs titled Ilu, making it hard to doubt her, if at all. The song used to be an all-time favorite of mine. She ranted on how the Naira used to be greater than its Dollar counterpart, how food was now expensive, and how she had not been subjected to discrimination because of her race whenever she travelled outside the country. I should introduce the song to my mom, it would become her favorite in no time. Asa’s song further proved my mother’s claim of a land that was, the ruins of which we; her children, now have to deal with.

As weird as it might seem, it's always easier for a child to man up in an adults' position (despite still growing), than an adult putting himself in a child's shoes (despite having been one). No matter how you want it twisted, the result is the same, a child giving excuse for an adult behavior- uncle lied because he didn't want to hurt me, a child giving excuse for a father's pedophiliac acts- dad didn't mean to, he was drunk, a child explaining a mother's emotions- mom is usually antsy whenever dad comes to pick me because she's heartbroken. Always a child...

It's however more difficult as you grow. Growing up in an African environment I daresay I've heard it all, the insinuations and the accusations, seen it too- the varying degrees of confrontations: it's like you like being beaten- I've always had a problem with this statement. Doesn't seem like a question. Rather out of the fact-ly if you ask me, as this is done whilst admonishing and spanking the child in a form or the other (who likes been beaten? Not me - except those who like being dominated for pleasure and even that is acted out).

Sometimes, it's an unexpected slap that tightens the loose hinges of the brain or punishments that makes one beg for death. Maybe, trying a tad to understand if a child was acting out as a result of something, or in reaction to an event or plainly being stubborn as they claim would have help but it was mostly never thought of. 

And being a female made it worse. These responsibilities had to be shouldered with appreciation, after all you got to get the birth right. For me, it was made much worse because I was the first of three girls, so I had to be responsible not just for myself but also for my siblings. 

The first time my literate mother saw vaginal discharge on my panties, she accused me of being promiscuous. It had hurt more than you might ever know. I however think my siblings lucky because she wasn't like that with them. Hence, why I say my parents learnt parenting by me. I seemed to have been the trial and error version of what parenting should be about. I certainly was their demo.

I would come to discover, as it seems to appear that growing up, there were mostly no safe havens to talk about sexuality and sexual awareness. And the ones who did were tagged “children of the world”.

Ma-ma, my mother as I call her did a lot of things while I was growing up, or let me say ‘we’ were growing up. We; my sisters and I. Ma showed us a lot of things but would not say, and said a lot of things which should have been shown. In more ways than one, I do not want to be the woman my mother is. In moments that speaks, I have come to realize a few things.

Culture and tradition almost messed being parented up for me; Esin iwaju ni teyin wo sare (directly translated as "the horses tend to take in the footsteps of the fore horse"- I must have heard this a zillion time). I didn't care much for being a horse or being at the forefront, I just blissfully wanted to be a child.

I have found myself wondering at solemn moments if parents respond to peer pressure through their kids? I mean, what if your whole existence in the actual sense of it all was as a result of peer pressure. This thought wouldn't be far-reaching though as for some strange reasons in this age, having kids is still a supposed prove of a marriage being 'fruitful'. Most parents actually care about how you make them look than how they make you feel.

Co-parenting seems to be a favorite pastime for most fathers. I however, was lucky. The sole burden of parenting is supposedly the mother’s duty. After all, maternal instincts above all as if like a woman’s prominent features like breasts, vagina, womb, and motherhood are somehow embedded in the DNA. God forbids a lady claims not to want children even after marriage, that lie is the devils and prayers will be religiously lifted up on your behalf. Expressing the decision will somehow make you a monster and for an overwhelming religious culture like ours, deliverance is expectedly in tow. Forcing maternal instincts on a woman, insisting on marriage, all in hopes that she will somehow come into agreement with her nature is the most African thing ever.

Across cultures, religious organizations and continents, projecting the force of parenthood has somehow become a norm out of the fear of the populace (dis)continuation or a reward for a fruitful union. Discuss.