Growing up as an African kid, When I was about nine years old, one Saturday morning, my mom traveled and my siblings weren’t around, it was only me and my Dad that were at home.
I decided to do something great, first to make my Dad happy and second to make my mom ask who did this when she returns. I decided to mop the house. To make the places clean. I took the rubber bucket in the house while my dad was in his room, put some water and was carrying it to clean the room. Suddenly the bucket slipped from my hand and broke. The bucket broke. I was sad. But I felt bad more because I couldn't fulfill my dream of making my Dad say "you are a good boy", that statement that always made me high inside. I had to first clean the spilled water and report my mistake to my Dad. So when my Dad came out and saw the splashed water and broken bucket, I was still explaining how I wanted to mop the house and then... He was getting a whip and he flogged me.
I wept and more so bitterness filled my heart. Oh this is a man I wanted to make happy, did he really see I was trying to be a good child, doing a job without being asked? I went to the back of the building and cried bitterly. As I was crying, I vowed that I will hate back, do evil and even leave that house. Revenge is what I wished.
Though little time cleansed the resolution but the experience is still here even after two decades. Most of our African parents due to poverty, transferred aggression and impatience kill the genius in their kids.
They flog out the problem solver in their kids.
When the child would take one week to figure out how to make an electric car with the woods, how his parents would be called the parents of the one that invented a car…Just as he is about starting the construction, the mother would use whip and format his brain.
“Ís it the expensive firewood that I bought that you are cutting, have you washed all the plates in this house it’s now car you want to build, car builder, do you know how much firewood costs and do expect me to cook the food you and your brothers will eat with my hair?”
Each statement is sandwiched with a slap.
Such kills thinking and morale. It makes the kid very bitter.
The African child has no support to be adventurous.
The African kid’s innovation is killed when he’s still trying to start.
The genius in him gets stupid mockery.
His actions are judged and not his intentions.
Even if you have a mischievous child, causing problems everywhere, be careful with that little child.
Be careful enough to separate when he is being unruly and when he’s being innovative.
Ask him questions, if he starts crying before talking or if he keeps quiet, give him confidence to talk.
When he takes scissors and cut your clothes because the tailor in him is shacking his head, the action may leave you furious at first such you can’t remember his good intentions, you can scold him but the next day, make sure you go to the market and get him/her pieces of clothes to practice with. Tell her/him to sew all he wants.
A dream suppressed in a child may never rise again.
The African child does not have access to the best of schools, he doesn’t have access to the best enabling environment, he lacks the best of teachers and resources. He is naturally disadvantaged to be an innovator, the last thing he needs is for his mind to be shut from exploring that equal advantage of thoughtfulness.
Meanwhile my Dad is a great man, as a teacher just as many African parents who can make decisions catalyzed by poverty, many of our parents are great but we the younger and 21st century generations should be better. We should avoid the mistakes of our parents and let our kids evolve.
