"You can't do that!" Papa yelled at me, he had just returned from work. I looked up from the drawing board, holding onto my drawings of a landscape beautifully sketched on a plain sheet of paper. "I can't train you in the best school for you to tell me being an artist is the path you chose", he continued. There was fury in his eyes.
To mum who was seated there in the room with me. "And you allowed him?" His voice was loud. I could see the tiny veins protruding on his forehead, a sign he was truly angry.
"But Papa.." I tried talking but he shut me up.
"Shut up! Take those things away and go and pick up your books. There are other career paths to choose than to be an artist"
I quickly stood up and got rid of my drawing materials. And just as Papa had commanded I picked up my school books and dug my eyes in them. Even though I knew I wasn't understanding a thing because the shouts from Papa earlier kept replaying in my head.
For weeks I didn't touch my drawing books again or go near the drawing board. I didn't want to be in Papa's bad books.
As a kid, I always wanted to do what was right before Papa. To me, he was my God, and I adored him just as a son should adore his father. So whatever he said to me or the decisions he took at that time were the best.
But incidents like this kept occurring with Papa not being happy with my career path as a kid. He wanted his kids to be Doctors, Lawyers or Engineers and I never understood why. Apart from two of my siblings,
I knew I wasn't interested in that line of study, so as I grew, I let him see reasons why he should let me decide. But no matter how I tried he didn't bulge.
Several times, I tried to understand why he wanted me in a particular direction. I realized that people of his generation see those careers as the ideal ones, and that was exactly why he wanted me on that path.
I tried letting him see the reasons why he had to let me choose my path, but no matter how I tried or how he seemed to understand. I knew he wasn't okay with it.
One day, just a few weeks before I applied for college, Papa called me to the sitting room alone. I remember walking down scared to the sitting from my room, counting each of my steps. I prayed it wasn't another sermon about my career path, but if it was, I had prepared for it before making my choice.
Getting to the sitting room, I sat down on the couch expecting Papa to say something, but when no words were forthcoming from him, I said. "You asked for me, Papa"
"Yes, I did", he replied, clearing his throat. "Have you chosen what you wish to study in school?" he asked, his voice calm.
"Yes, Papa", I replied with a shaky voice.
"Okay," he paused. "I wouldn't ask you what your choice is. I just want you to know that whatever career path you choose to follow, I'm in support of it."
I sat there surprised. I was expecting Papa to ask me what my choice was, and when I told him, he would yell and rage. I had prepared for it, but shockingly, Papa wasn't about to do all that.
"Papa?" I called him like he wasn't there with me.
"Yes, I'm done. You can go"
Overwhelmed, I got up and left the sitting room happy. I couldn't tell what changed his mind but whatever it was, I was happy it did.
A few days later, Mama told me of how Mr Ellis's son had run away from home because his father, Mr Ellis, wasn't in support of his career path.
Mr Ellis was Papa's best friend.