Memories are like encrypted codes within our minds. They never seem to fade, just like history can't be forgotten. It feels like yesterday, the moment I regretted ever having a Mum. But that was about ten years ago.
I can vividly remember that day as clear as ever. I was just an innocent little kid with no worries. I always got picked up by my Mum. I never for once went by the school bus and yeah! I was a mummy's boy or wait, should I say: a Daddy's boy?
Nope! My Dad was the not-so-playful type.
If there was one thing about her, it was that she never went late for any occasion or event — That's an attribute I'd love to have.
On that certain day, school time was over and I was given the job of cleaning up the classroom — putting the seats where they were meant to be, and sweeping the floors. I know one would wonder why a little kid would be assigned the job of cleaning a classroom after school hours. Come on, there should be janitors for that, right?
But welcome to Africa, a continent quite unique and different from the the normal happenings in the western part of the world. Well, I don't know if I should say culture but these are things that have been done right from time onset. So we perceive it to be normal.
Well, because of the task assigned to me, I couldn't station myself at the waiting hall where my mum would usually pick me up. I was so engrossed in the clean-up, too engrossed in it that I forgot my mum was eagerly waiting for me but just as soon as I was done with the cleaning and was about leaving, something else happened — I got my fingers stuck in-between the door hinge and unfortunately I broke two of my nails. That was one of the most excruciating pain I ever encountered in my short-lived walk through this Earth.
Some students who were around witnessed me grunting and whimpering in pain so they rushed in and took me back into the class room where they assisted in cleaning up the wound and consoling me at the same time. This further caused a delay, prompting my mum to wait longer than she already did. While in the classroom, my mind travelled for a moment. I thought of how my mum might have been pissed off that I didn't keep to time. She would never and had never for once come late for anything so she expected the same for me in return.
Well, it's nothing much! a simple explanation should make her understand — I said to myself.
After the pain subsided, I walked gently to the waiting hall where lots of students were waiting for their guardians to pick them up. Upon arrival, I saw my mum standing right in front of the waiting room staring blankly at me. Her face was cold, her eyeballs stood still as though she were a zombie. I reduced my pace as fear slowly crept in. I knew I owed her an explanation. But before I could utter the first word, I found myself struggling to maintain balance. I staggered backwards like a confused drunkard.
After I regained stamina, I then realised I was given a hard smack on the face. You know that moment when you get hit on the face so hard that you literally lose both your stamina and senses for the first few seconds?
Yeah! that was me.
But to make things worse, I became the centre of attraction. Everyone awkwardly stared at me amidst the sudden silence with suddenly enclosed the atmosphere. I felt so embarrassed and to make things worse, I was the shy type.
My Mum angrily walked back to her vehicle while I slowly followed in shame. It felt as though I suddenly lost control of my lower limbs. walking became difficult — I guess that's what the power of anxiety can do.
I became the talk of the school for a while and I mean... a really long while. Every Nigerian can relate to the incident which I experienced. I mean, stuffs like this do happen but I never expected it to happen to me and never expected it come from my Mum.
Well, just like I said earlier, memories are part of those things that makes us look back and put on a smile.