“….My
name is Lara Adelaja and I believe that our mothers of tomorrow can
only be made today and our fathers of tomorrow will learn to decide
today. What role would you have played looking back, (in future), in
laying these foundations for our nation’s future homes?”...
The crowd cheers! Applauds resounding
though every corner of the hall accommodating over a thousand guests
which in its majority were; intellectuals, entrepreneurs, working class
individuals and those of great affluence. The audience was marveled at
the aptness and commitment of Lara’s speech. The appreciation felt by
the majority of guests in attendance was one that engulfed the
atmosphere; you could almost taste the emotion. The three-day seminar on
“The Nigerian future; parenting, family and the home” was just
concluded and Lara the youngest and last guest speaker for the event
gave a commendable closing speech!
Lara smiles with satisfaction and in
humility; a shy adjustment of her lips in an upward motion that clearly
gave away the fact that she was happy and in that moment fulfilled. She
knew what she said was accepted not because it was a fancy speech or was
knitted perfectly with all the right figures of speech or laced with
the perfect elements of communication but on the contrary, she knew all
that aside, her audience welcomed her speech because this was her
reality (even if they were unaware of it), her life’s experience, HER
TRUTH! and she approved herself.
“Omolara wa” a soft and
bothered voice beckons as Lara attempts to climb the stairs to her room.
(They had now arrived at their home in Lekki, Lagos Nigeria).
She pauses and looks back at her mum who
is about some inches away from the stairway. She sees her mum is
serious about her returning down to the parlor where she was but more
than that she sees questions and can tell something’s up.
“Is everything alright mum?” There is no reply.
“Okay… mummy can it wait then? It was
quite a night you know… let’s just do this tomorrow morning. I PROMISE!
You’ll be fine and I’ll be all ears tomorrow”.
(Now Lara is a 28 year old – only
child, who is single, a lawyer cum writer, doing pretty well for herself
professionally and financially, was born privileged but lost her dad in
her early 20’s, still lives with her mum but is basically the epitome
of independence regardless.)
“No love, it cannot wait. Ejo, wa seh”.
Lara’s mum replies and sits carefully on the brown three seater leather
sofa. As she replies her daughter, she evens out the further end of the
sofa presumably; showing that this was no careless conversation they
were about to have and she wants her close while they were at it.
Lara although tired, didn’t need to be
hit in the head to understand her mum was not going to postpone this.
She steps down, almost grudgingly but understandably too, takes a sit at
the ‘imposed’ side of the leather sofa, places her palm on her mum’s
lap (in which a lovely print silk dress flowed on) and gently pats it.
“Is everything alright mum?” she asks again, but this time meaningfully.
Lara’s mum gauges Lara’s palm on her lap
with one hand and adjusts lara’s slightly leaned face with her other
palm, gently. She smiles.
“Omolara mi, I am so proud of you! I am
blessed by you and blessed to have you and I am thankful everyday for
you. Today, I couldn’t have been more proud, I wept in my chair, from
pride but honestly, more from the painful knowledge that, omo mi so ooto lati inu okan o! That was just your heart you poured out”.
She continues.
“I know we did not do right by you; I
did not do right by you as a parent, a mother. It is me, I, all of it is
me”. She shakes her head regretfully and tears slide down. “Now it has
taken almost 28 years, your father’s passing away and seeing you become a
respectful, strong and independent woman; the complete opposite of my
early life as your mother, to realise that I could have ruined your
life, your already promising future… I could have lost!”.
She is now crying.
Lara is so emotional too, she wants to
tell her mum that it is okay and she should please stop weeping, that
she was just being intelligent and merely attaching her emotion to the
speech for emphasis, but she knew that was a lie. She knew it was every
bit relative. She was thankful within for the opportunity that allowed
this conversation, she knew this was truce and she knew what needed to
be said had to be and the opportunity must be grabbed by the horns. Lara
wanted to feel peace for them both after this night but she wanted one
that was transparent and not just comforting, just coz.
“Mummy, I am sorry and you are right.
You are right to say you could have ruined my life. You are right to say
it was all you. Mummy you were not there, you almost never were and if
not for the angel God brought to our home in the person of a nanny –
Mummy Joe, this might have been a different story”. She straightens
herself, away from her mum’s side and now facing the opposite two seater
sofa, staring in the wide, her chin supported by her palm formed into a
fist. She continues.
“If not for Mummy Joe coming to my room
every time I was back home from boarding school for the holiday, to
check my things and caution me when she saw a property she had a hint
wasn’t mine; I would have made it a habit to collect things and bring
them home with no concern because, you were too busy with other peoples
events to check on your daughter returning from the dangerous nest of a
secondary school”.
“If not for the diligent eyes and
motherly concern mummy Joe had to call me, comfort me and speak to me so
kindly yet with such stern, about guys and how it was not time yet to
open myself up to love, when my first boyfriend in secondary school
cheated and broke up with me; I would never have held my head up high
and deliberately learnt to choose right, chose becoming a better me as
opposed the cliche of being a better option for a guy”.
“Mummy, I know daddy was always on one
trip or the other, you? One event, function, meeting, program or the
other, you both worked so hard and made life comfortable for me and I
will always be grateful for that, but at what cost? Attention? One time,
you were on a business call for hours, I ran to your office in the
house to tell you I was bleeding and felt so cramped in my tummy area
but you were so engrossed in your business call, you didn’t see the
confusion and fear in my face when you told me you will meet me in 30
minutes. I walked out of your office and it only took a glance for mummy
Joe to know something serious was happening. That afternoon, she put me
through the “menstrual cycle class” and reminded me what I already had a
hint on from jist. Mummy, your 30 minutes never came!”.
“What about cooking, cleaning,
domestication? Yes, we had mummy Joe and Banji the laundry man who were
very diligent at their jobs but because now hanging with mummy Joe was
more fun and relieving, even without knowing it, I got interested in
being the one to put the cubes of maggi into the cooking pot, doing first to finish washing
dishes or daring mummy Joe to cleaning the rooms in the house best and
all that. I’m very sure mummy Joe wouldn’t have imposed because it was
her job and she was paid pretty well to do it, but seeing the joy I had
from just hanging with her and knowing that in the end, the tricks I
picked up – domestication, would be good for me, she never stopped until
it became a part of me. I even had to be discreet too because, I
didn’t want you thinking I was taking over the nanny turned helps job. Oh no! You wouldn’t have had it and that would have cost her daily bread”.
“Mummy you did a lot! There’s so much
more but there is no point now, I love you so much and I am thankful
that along the line you realized that you really didn’t do so much in
terms of contributing to the better woman I am, but I know you love me,
always did too and putting your money were you couldn’t be, brought in
someone that could do that job, but here is the thing though”
She now faces her mum and holds here palms tight, with intent and care still.
“Mummy, what if it was not mummy Joe?
What if I was rude and disrespectful and couldn’t learn from anyone that
wasn’t blood related? What if she could care less about my ignorance
and only cared about her pay? What kind of woman would you have been
looking at today? What kind of mother, wife, would I prepare to be?”.
She hugs her mum who is broken now but
grateful to God, for being ever so faithful despite her unfaithfulness.
Lara’s mum holds Lara’s head in her palms and promises…
“My baby, I am so sorry, I love you and WO ! As long as I am alive on this earth, I will be the mother you wished you had, to your children – my grand children”.
Lara’s mum hugs her again and asks rhetorically…
“What kind of home did I build”?
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