Growing up, one way the older ones around me used to get me to do what they wanted was to scare me with Ojuju Calabar! I'm sure many Nigerians know what I'm talking about.😏
If they wanted me inside and I was refusing, all they had to do was say, “Ojuju will come and carry you ooo!” And then, you'll see me with my two little legs run inside the house. It was like a trick for parents at the time, and it got kids to do everything. Including chores.
Of course, the older we grew, the wiser we became, and we realized that Ojuju Calabar was only a myth, and its purpose was to make children more obedient. And it worked. As an adult now, I can only laugh about it because in the end, it's all good for me.
Now, as an adult in my twenties, something happened that sent me down this memory lane! Yesterday, I was walking down this road, taking a stroll while also trying to get something to eat, when I saw a little boy playing on the street. It was late, way past seven thirty at night. And as I walked by, I heard the boy's mother say: “See police! See police! Oya come inside now!”
At once, the little boy dropped the container he was playing with and ran into the house. The smiling mother locked her door. But for a long time afterwards, I couldn't stop thinking of that event. It was in direct contrast to what happened in my childhood.
My elders had to use made-up characters to scare me, but this woman was using a real one to scare her child into obedience. The police are real. And being someone who has been on the receiving end of their brutality, it's well… brutal!
I realised that this little boy would never get what I had. He wouldn't grow up to realize that the police are a myth; instead, he would find out that his mother had unknowingly been training him for the one thing: when you see them, you run! That's the life of the average young Nigerian… seeing the police doesn't instill peace or calm; whether you're a criminal or not, you know that your freedom is hanging in the balance. Just like that.
Sadly, this is not just a Nigerian thing; it seems to be a curse that follows the young black man. You can't afford to be young, black, and even worse, successful. If you even look like you've got your life figured out, then you're as good as having a target on your back. It's crazy, but then it's also our reality.
So, is there a moral to this piece? I don't think so. A thought just crossed my mind, and I decided to share it. There are so many things that the coming generations will miss out on, things that we enjoyed. And it's just tragic that they will never enjoy the blissful ignorance that came with running from Ojuju Calabar!
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