Nothing but ..The Truth

My mother’s sister called me on my sidekick - my mobile palasa phone - Thursday this week. My Aunt has been out of the country and just came back, so she went to see her sister. She told me when I picked her phone call that my mom keeps mentioning my name in their conversations worried. She didn’t let my aunt rest even when she told her I was okay. “So please tell her yourself that you are okay,” my Aunty said and handed the phone to my mother. It is incredible how my mother does this every time when I am not okay but as usual, I will put up my best show and tell her “Mummy, I am fine”. She will ask "are you sure?” And my epic response will be “Yes”...  Lies! Lies! Lies! Sigh

When I said this story was my story, I lied...  This story will be nothing without the one who carried me for nine months in her womb...Trust me; it is not as easy as women make it look.

To put it in a nutshell, I have been lying about my emotions for a long time but I see them as constructive lies not destructive. There are white lies and terrible lies but in moral justifications; a lie is a lie. So the truth and nothing but the truth is; I am not fine...Oh, not that truth, the real truth and nothing but the truth is; this story will be nothing without telling the story of my mother. She was the one who sacrificed everything so I can be here today. She is a fighter, strong headed... Not stubborn but strong-willed and holding on to what she believes in... These attributes remind me of me tho... lol

It is important to note that she had it tough and wanted me to be better, to get better, to have better and live better. She wanted me to have what she never fully accomplished; Education. Her life’s journey begins when she gains admission into the University of Lagos as a diploma student in mass communications. She is a young Muslim, hot chocolate, beautiful, who had a dazzling future behind her that most men adored... if you know what I am saying; winks!

She was the first child ever of her mother and had a brother but she lost her father when she was 12years old and her mother remarried and had 2more children afterwards.

She had to grow up fast, helping her mother raise her stepsisters, so she didn’t get to be a child for too long. The responsibility was so massive on her that by the time she is 18, my mummy was with a pressing need for her to start her own family but she enrols into the university stead then meets a Muslim man who liked what he saw behind her very much....he hehe...Her backside, like her daughters, was glorious to behold. In no time, my mother was pregnant, and he was telling her to drop out and become his 3^rd wife. “Wait... What?” My mother must have said.

To add to it, my mother’s father was a Muslim but he loved every religion so he found nothing wrong with enrolling my mother in a Catholic boarding school. My mother often went home during the holidays when her father died so the Muslim ways of a man having 4wives and loving them equally were not what she was raised to know. She would not be a third wife so she and her baby daddy fought a lot. He wanted her married before she showed and my mother would not have any of it. My mom said the fights got so serious that one fateful day, the man beat her to stupor and she lost the babies. My mother said it was so much of a traumatic experience for her she became withdrawn. My mother broke off the relationship and turned to partying and drinking. Well, it was when she was out clubbing one day months after her ordeal she met my father. 

One day, I found a black-and-white picture of my mother in her youth. She was wearing a mono strap white top - One hand strap - and a pair of tight jeans with stilettos, holding a cigarette in her left hand with her friends. God knows I couldn’t ask my churchgoing, cover your whole body with clothing, holy ghost fire spitting mother at the time about the picture I found but I can just imagine it was something close to what she was wearing in the picture she had on the day she met my father.

She was out hanging out with friends in a party when her female friend introduced her to a tall slim, handsome, witty Yoruba demon who will later become my father. My dad was taken over by my mother and he couldn’t get his eyes off her behind.

She liked the attention too and didn’t mind getting more of it so when my dad asked her on a date she said “Hell Yes”.

He was in her department, the same program. There had been so many students in the class so they had not met each other until that day at the party.

My dad was a sleek, royalty from Ekiti State who left attending lectures to those who needed it. The cool kid, so smooth and intelligent passed without wearing glasses or showing up for lectures. Women loved him and my mother was no different; my dad brought a new swag to her life and in no time she was pregnant with his baby... lol

He had a girlfriend at the time and things went Ludacris from there.  My dad wanted to be a Lawyer and hoped that after his diploma he will enrol for a degree program in law but all that became mere wishes when he realised he would be a daddy. He broke up with his girlfriend and found a job. 

There was an opening at the National Television Authority (NTA) and my daddy applied and was accepted into the organization.

He made money and had enough to rent an apartment and have a small but cute wedding ceremony. My dad’s dream of becoming a lawyer had to take a backseat and when he graduated with a diploma certificate in hand, he went in full time into working at NTA and that will be where he will retire 30years later.

To be continued...

The Best Mistake Ever!!

Sipping on chocolate milkshake thinking Fridays has never been so good for blogging, sigh. I remember going on and on how I want to write on my past, so let me take you through memory lane.

I shared this story with a guy recently and he argued with me that there were loopholes in my story. 

At first, I didn’t care because I was having so much fun just talking to him but after I got home and recapped the day’s event; I saw the loopholes myself. So if you find it, just smile at it, no need to buttress your point of discovery because, this story is my story and I can tell it the way I consider fit; I can say I fell out of the sky if I want to and you will just have to take my word for it. lol

Moving on, my journey began many decades ago. My mother had two children; a girl and a boy and my Father content he had finished the burden of childbearing but wasn’t finished with the process if you know what I mean. Winks!

So on a fateful Yuletide season when everyone was merry and happy, my parents took their happiness to another level way above normal for family planning specifications and they conceived me.

The boy asked if I was a mistake. First, no child is a mistake. Even if I wasn’t planned; I am not admitting that I wasn’t planned. I am just stating facts. It qualifies no child being called a mistake. Call me spontaneous or not adventitious but not a mistake, never call me a mistake.

Then why does my title say "Best Mistake Ever??" Well, only I can call myself a mistake and not get lynched... he he he

You can roll your eyes, it's your eyes not mine...But don't just forget never to call me a mistake because God never makes mistakes. 

To make the long story short, in medical terms my mother had cryptic pregnancy; she didn't know she was pregnant until she was more than 8moths gone. Then, one day at work she slumps and they rush her to the hospital. My mother sits at the reception thinking she had stomach flu only to hear “Madam, you need to get something to eat so that your baby doesn’t starve”

“Baby?” My mother must have asked the doctor.

“Yes, you are 8months pregnant," The Doctor must have replied

“No, Doctor I can’t be pregnant. Even if I am pregnant, how do I tell my husband I am due next month with a child he didn’t even know exists?” My mummy must have asked again... She was a journalist so asking questions is her forte and I know the doctor was put under my mother’s award-winning microscopic string of questioning.

What I don’t know till date is how, when and where she told my daddy she was pregnant. Nobody wants to give me the details, but I am guessing my daddy didn’t take it well because I spent my 1^st year living alone with my mother who was camping at my uncle’s place.

To be continued...