I was that very hyperactive child who loved to put into practice what I'd recently learned, yea, I was also fond of asking lots of questions, my inquisitive mind could not stop them from coming, the world was as intriguing as it seemed.
But this inquisitive nature of mine always troubled my mum, so sometimes instead of giving me the real answers for example which store she bought me from or why isn't the sky yellow like the sun, her answers always never satisfied my curiosity.
Thankfully, we had schools that opened my eyes to more learning and fun, filling the gaps in some of the questions I had.
Then in the '90s, there was nothing like overhead bridges like we have today, my favorite place to go was the church apart from school, not like I had any other places I visited as I lived a triangle life, from home to school during the weekdays and church on Sundays.
Our Sunday routine was pretty straightforward, Mummy woke up early and prepared me for church, even though she doesn't eat before going, she makes sure I have a light breakfast of tea and bread and adorned a fancy Sunday dress, but all of these were not my favorite part of our Sunday morning routine, it was the part where we crossed the busy express road to the other side where our local church was located, somehow I always looked forward to this, it was magical, digging the moving vehicles.
As I grew to about 6 or 7 years old, I wondered why mum still always held my hands before we crossed, especially after we were taught in school about the traffic lights, and how we should cross the express road, always look left, right and left again, that was it? So easy! I thought. I had it all planned in my little head, I would cross the busy express road one day and make my mum proud of me that I had learned something.
But she never gave me the chance to not until this day, we were on our way to church like every other Sunday but this day we met a fellow church member on our way to church, mummy Brian, she had little Brian wrapped tightly on her back as they talked, they must have been so engrossed in their discussion that mum did not notice when I slipped my hands off hers as we approached the express road. Without giving it a second thought, this was the chance I had been looking forward to I ran ahead of them and did exactly as my teacher had thought, I looked left, right, then looked left again and dashed into the busy road.
Gbam! That was the only sound I heard, I must have passed out for a few seconds or maybe minutes, I opened my eyes and saw I had been covered by a crowd as an unfamiliar face carried me in his hands, I searched for my mum as I called out to her, there she was crying her eyes out, as they rushed me to the nearest pharmacy not even a clinic, I guess that was the closest place I could get a fast aid treatment.
My nose felt hot, and that was when I realized I had a bleeding nose and the blood had even soiled my fancy Sunday dress, and then the pain followed, I had bruised some parts of my body. It was later I found out that I was hit by a motorcycle, they kept blaming my mum for leaving me to cross the busy road myself. But there I was thinking it wasn't her fault neither mine but my teacher's fault for teaching me wrongly how to cross the road because I followed her instructions to the letters by looking left, right, and left again. How was I supposed to know that it wasn't by looking alone but by making sure there was no vehicle coming before making a move?
Because of that incident, mum became more strict, she never allowed me to go to any place alone even into my teens I was always accompanied by an older aunty or uncle, when my age mates at this point had some sort of freedom, I didn't. But that experience also left a lasting impact on me, and I became more cautious in my approach to following instructions, till date, I make sure to take my time and understand before making a move, and it has somehow been helpful to me in the way handle things, I always see beyond what others see and take my time before acting or taking a decision. It's funny how childhood experiences can shape us in profound ways.
All images used in this post are mine