Although it is inevitable, as growth is the most constant thing in life and cannot be ignored, taking responsibility for oneself is what Tunde ventured into at a young age, prompted by a significant death that led him to leave home and stay with his uncle.
That day, the rain had not stopped falling since morning and the muddy compound behind the small carpenter’s workshop, where his uncle worked smelled of wet wood and sawdust.
Inside his tiny room beside the workshop, seventeen-year-old Tunde sat quietly on a wooden stool, staring into an abyss of his thoughts observing the photograph of his late parents on the wall which was not there.
Ever since the accident that took their lives, the world had become heavy like a goiter on his neck.
His uncle, Baba Seyi, was the only family member who accepted him without hesitation although he was a hardworking carpenter who lived a simple life in a crowded neighborhood.
His leaving condition is what prompted Tunde to work harder. The house was old, cramped, and uncomfortable while the roof leaked whenever it rained, and the electricity disappeared more often than it came.
Yet, Baba Seyi did his best.
“Tunde,” his uncle would often say, “life is not about comfort first. It is about survival.”
But Tunde was young, ambitious, tired of struggling and folding himself on the small couch that he sleeps every night, and was too anxious about staying alone to make decisions and be free as a bird.
Every morning before sunrise, he helped his uncle cut planks and polish furniture before going out to hustle to carry goods at the market, wash buses at a garage, and sometimes worked as a waiter at any local events and soon he began to save money.
After a year, he rent a room apartment without informing his uncle, and told him two weeks after renting the apartment.
“ Why don't you let me know before you make such a decision?” Baba Seyi said, looking up from the chair he was repairing.
“Your own apartment?” he concluded.
“Yes. I am growing up. I cannot keep living like this forever.” Tunde replied and his uncle sighed deeply.
“Being in a hurry to become a man can push someone into mistakes.” his uncle answered but Tunde had already made up his mind.
He saw the disappointment on his uncle's face but there was nothing he could do about it at that time because the payment was non-refundable.
After two months, he packed up and moved out of his uncle's apartment and moved to his own.
He was so happy because it allowed him to do whatever he wanted at any time without knowing that adulting is much more than that.
The apartment was not luxurious, but to him, it felt like freedom. He bought a mattress, a fan, a television, and some basic furniture with the little money he had struggled to gather and for the first time since his parents died, he felt in control of his life.
Not long after moving in, he met two friendly undergraduates named Kola and Femi. They approached him one evening outside a nearby shop.
“Bro,” Kola said politely, “we are students and we have nowhere to stay for now. We heard you stay alone. Please help us.”
“We will support you with bills,” Femi added. “We just need somewhere temporary.”
Tunde hesitated at first, but their humble appearance and respectful attitude softened his heart.
“Alright,” he finally agreed. “You can stay.”
At first, the arrangement seemed like a blessing.
Kola was an accounting student while Femi was a computer science student.
Although they were younger than him, he considered them as brothers and friends.
The boys swept the house, cooked meals, washed clothes, and treated Tunde with respect. Whenever he returned tired from work, food was usually ready. They called him “brother” and laughed together late into the night.
For the first time in years, Tunde felt like he belonged somewhere.
Gradually, he stopped visiting his uncle.
“Did I offend you, you rarely visit me anymore” Baba Sheyi called on a day and Tunde responded carelessly.
“Uncle you did not, I’m just fine. I’m an adult now and I can handle myself whereas work won't let me.” Tunde concluded.
Although, working as an attendant made him busy, it was the freedom that was intoxicating him.
The old carpenter remained silent for a moment before replying softly, “A grown man still needs wisdom.”
But Tunde no longer listened.
Months later, good news arrived.
Tunde gained admission into a higher institution far away from the city and he danced with excitement as he shared the news with Kola and Femi.
“You are going to become a graduate!” they shouted happily.
Since the school was far away, Tunde rented another apartment close to the campus but managing two apartments became difficult, so he called his friends together.
“Please continue staying in the former house,” he said.
“Just help me keep paying the rent and take care of my things until I finish the semester,” he concluded.
“No problem,” Kola assured him with laughter that echoed like a gong on the phone.
“You are our brother,” Femi added and Tunde trusted them completely then continued with his studies.
School life soon became overwhelming as transportation, textbooks, feeding, and rent drained him physically, mentally, and financially. Sometimes he skipped meals to meet up with his daily budget and comforted himself with the thought that his belongings back at home were safe with people he trusted.
After months of stress, examinations, and the semester finally ended.
Tunde was tired but excited and boarded a bus back home. Throughout the journey, he kept the imagination of reuniting with his friends and resting in his old apartment but the moment he arrived at the compound, something felt wrong as the front door was wide open and the curtains were gone.
Walking into the room, it was as clean as a tabula rasa. The television stand was empty; the mattress, fan, chairs, and even cooking pots had also disappeared.
Tunde froze.
His heartbeat pounded violently in his chest and he had an adrenaline rush of anxiety.
“No… no… no…” rang in his brain as if the thought was not his.
He rushed outside and called the landlord immediately.
“Sir! Where are Kola and Femi?”
The question surprised the landlord.
“Ah, they said you asked them to move your properties to your new apartment near school,” he answered.
Tunde’s knees weakened and he sat on the floor.
“They lied…” he lamented.
He dialed their numbers repeatedly, but both lines were switched off.
That night, he sat alone outside the empty room, staring into the darkness and lost in thought. The people he had called brothers had vanished with everything he owned and the pain was deeper than the stolen property. It was betrayal.
Broken and ashamed, Tunde returned to his uncle’s house the next morning with his head dropped.
The old carpenter was outside, sanding a wooden table when he saw Tunde carrying only a small bag and he understood immediately.
Without saying a word, he brought out a stool and Tunde sat down quietly while tears were burning in his eyes.
“I was foolish, Uncle,” he whispered and Baba Seyi nodded slowly and uttered,
“Pain is also a teacher.”
Hearing this, Tunde lowered his head. “I thought adulting meant handling my responsibilities alone,” he said,
His uncle placed the sandpaper aside and looked directly at him.
“No, my son. Adulting is not only about paying your bills or living alone.”
He paused with a deep breath before continuing,
“It is also about knowing who deserves your trust and who does not” and for the first time in a long while, Tunde truly understood what growing up meant.
He resumed after the semester’s holiday ended, not as a full-grown adult that he believed himself to be but knowing that adulting is also about working on discernment and not giving trust to the wrong people.
