My Dad Married the Wrong Woman

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My dad married the wrong woman. Na the cause of hin problem be that. No be say my mama no be good person, but if you know, good is different from right. Momma was a primary six certificate holder who had no vision or future ambition but papa marry am so. Love is said to be blind; I believe am for their own case. My mama is as beautiful as the goddess but in terms of brains, a jellyfish could have been better off.

Dad was the last of six children. And of course, he got all he wanted including a degree in those days. My dad was fondly called eyinju mi(apple of my eye) by mom. Eyinju is over 70 now, so you know what I mean by those days now. It takes four weeks to get to school by water transport. It took longer periods before he could get goodies that have been sent from home. This made Eyinju work in the library to get some extra cash for food and other necessities.

It was quite surprising that a young man that schooled with children of dignitaries went back to his village to continue his life. He longed for home, to meet his most loved being in the world (his mother). He would do everything to ensure that the nest did not miss a bird. Every son and daughter of his village grew up there. The degree could have done a liberation to his senses but unfortunately it was otherwise. How on earth could a man who was the first graduate in his village go back there in the first place?

Papa dey tell me say him dey always tell them tales of university for village. Him go sleep and chop for morning and tell tales for night. All the opekes for the village wan make papa marry dem before he chose my mama. A fit break hin head as he dey yarn me so.

Benefits of the oza room no come allow papa reason. He bought his first landed property in a marsh area. He even turned down a job at the university because mama’s skirt was enticing enough. He lived in mediocrity throughout his life as the aftermath of very silly mistakes vis-a-vis errors.

As for me, Oluwafemi the son of Eyinju, pledge to the nation of myself not to commit the atrocities of my father, make my existence memorable to offspring, be loyal and faithful to thyself, uphold and restore the common sense needed in our family, so help me baba God.

Femi has read a thousand stories of how men shot themselves in the leg. The ones that affected him and others most especially the costly wrongs of his father. But he swore to eternity that he would keep telling the story to everyone that cares to listen. No man deserves to be foolish again, he said.