Since we are from a Christian background, my parents have always taught us to lead a life of good example. They are always dishing out instructions on things we must do and things we must not do. “Demola, how many times have I told you I don’t want to see you with that boy again?” My mom would lash out at me.
That’s the kind of life my siblings and I were living. My parents want the best for us, and they always want to show us off to other kids' parents as good children. One thing my parents detest the most is “fighting.” I was a child who loved to see people fight, so I grew up with a passion for it. I would spar with friends or older boys at the field where my mom's eyes couldn’t reach.
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One cool evening, I was with the boys at the field. We were just having fun like we used to before Godswill asked me to fight with him, more like a duel.
“What could go wrong?” I thought to myself. I knew I could beat God'swill because he was looking frail. Although I haven’t had a fight with him before, I was so confident that I would win. Samuel walked over to me with a frown on his face. He was the oldest boy among all of us who were there. He lives in the same compound as me, so he always watches out for me. “Demola, don’t get into a fight with God's will. He is always using tricks on anyone he fights,” Samuel said to me, but I wasn’t ready to listen because I was young, naïve, and full of energy. “Don’t worry about that small boy; I will beat him in no time, and then we will go home.”
We all gathered at the field; both the young and old boys were ready to watch the fight. The boys formed a ring around us; some of the boys were cheering for God'swill while the others were cheering for me. The way the boys cheering for me called my name gave me more morale to want to fight “Demola, Demola, Demola.” I could hear my name from all corners of the field. I took off my polo top because I didn’t want to leave any evidence for my mom.
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Godswill and I stood close to each other when Samuel said the word “begin.” In that instant, I felt a sharp pain in my eyes caused by sand. Godswill had picked up some sand and immediately poured it into my eyes as the fight began. I felt some jabs on my face, then my stomach. I kneeled down due to the pain. I tried getting up, but my strength was nowhere to be found. Godswill started laughing. I couldn’t see him, but I knew where he was standing because his voice was so loud. I dove in that direction, held him, and we started struggling to get on top of each other.
As we were fighting, I noticed the cheering started getting lower and lower. I couldn’t tell what was going on because I couldn’t see well. I was still struggling with God'swill on the floor when I felt a hot slap on my back. “So you are here fighting when you should be helping your mother at home.” At that moment, I did not know what to do because the person who made those statements sounded like my dad. “Where are his clothes? Ok, bring them for me.” My dad's voice said again, “You will get the beating of your life today.”
I wanted to make a run for it, but he caught me by the ear and pulled me, with my ear, home. I couldn’t fight back because he was much stronger than me. “See your son; I found him fighting on the field. A child of God fighting, ehnnn,” my dad said to my mom. “Ahhh, Demola. You are fighting. Don’t worry; you will tell me what made you fight this night. Now go to the room and kneel down,” my mom said.
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Well, the rest is now history, and I don’t like fighting anymore. Not because of what my parents said, but because I want peace of mind.
Thanks for reading. Here is my entry for the inkwell creative nonfiction prompt.
