Olanrewaju Odesomi: Fathers and sons (#ShortStory)

by Olanrewaju Odesomi

father_and_son

                                                             

    Segun just informed her to pass across the message to his father. She told him he was asleep, and that she would inform him first thing tomorrow morning. She thanked him, saying God has answered her prayers. He could picture her, bouncing, and smiling gleefully.

                                 I

“Our fathers are our gods, and we have no angels, but our mothers” Segun’s Grandfather once told him one starry night, as the sky rankled above. It seems Sango, the famed Yoruba god of thunder agreed too. He remembered he also said, that a child can only reach, and feel closest to the stars from the shoulders of her father, and no child can connect to the essence of true love, except if done, through the bosom of his mom.

Segun was on holidays to the village, from Lagos, and they were seated under a cocoa tree, in front of the mud house his Grandfather built some fifty odd years ago, and both watched the tree shed leafs that danced with the wind, as it cascaded to the ground.

It was like the old man knew something – that Segun despised his dad. He couldn’t understand his father’s conservative rigidity, or the internal insecurities, that overrides even his love for his children, which all collided, in Segun’s opinion, to make him somewhat unreasonable. His father, a worrier by nature, took out his limitations, insults of daily existence and necessity on the children.

If their mom came home late, the childrens rear bore the brunt of his anger, and a bad day at work, would mostly, sing on the childrens puffy cheeks. He wore his mis-happenings and in capabilities on his face, and outlook like a make up, and never failed to remind the children they were not up to par. His back lashes, were done as much as to shut dissent, but also, it seems to Segun, to relieve his own ego of soreness. The children it looked, were the easy pick.

Segun, and his brother Shola were scared around him, and his tantrums left them shivering. They became rats when he was at home – hiding, and tiptoeing about, trying not to draw attention, and possibly his irk. They whispered when he was around, fearing their voices might echo against the silence, or bounce off things in the room, and get to him.

It got worse when they started high school. Even though he was rarely around, he demanded they stay at home, always, and to make things worse, friends were not allowed to visit. He kept a barrage of canes, belts, and tree branches under his bed that he never fails to use after slight, or at times little provocations. There was a day Segun mistakingly dropped a glass cup he sent him to get, and it shattered into pieces on the floor. He called him, and slapped him so hard, the sheer force of it threw him hard against the wall. His head, and lips came out worse from the impact. Yet, with bloody lips, and swollen head, he was still made to knee down for hours. At that point, he decided he hated his father. He just couldn’t wait to get admission into the university, and leave home.

And when he finally did get admission, there was little succour, as he still had to succumb to his father’s crevices, as he threatened to stop payment of his school fees if he failed to listen, or heed his wants. They included staying in the hostel, and accounting for every money sent to him. He also had to leave school the day after his last paper, or heaven would weep for him, as his father liked to say.

And once home again, the solitary confinement resumed. His father’s controlling tendencies never stopped. He needed it it seemed. He controlled everything – when he went to school, what he bought, when he came back home, and even who visited him. He demanded he bring back all textbooks, so he could account for money spent, and once, he forgot to do so, he shouted at him, calling him unserious, and stupid. A bastards even.

He did not send him money for textbooks the next semester, saying he was sure he never bought any the last time he did. He insisted he was sure Segun had spent  the money on girls, and alcohol. He persevered, as he had no choice. His mother was a calming influence though, reminding him it would end one day. He thought once he graduated, it would stop. All that was needed was his independence, and unreliance on the old man. A year after service, he got a job. Now, the old man can’t tell him anything. How wrong he was

 

II

Sitting back on his reclining chair, and chewing kola, his grandfather continued, this time singing the praise of children. “Mortals becoming immortal is a story of births, as the only way of leaving an indelible mark on world proceedings is through passing on of a bloodline. Not making money. You can have the money in the world, and buy all the clothes, but without a child, my son, you’re naked.” He caught a falling leaf. “This cocoa tree is not living its creed if it doesn’t produce. It can provide shade, and shed enough leaf to carpet the ground, but if it doesn’t produce, it’s living a wasted life.” He starred at Segun, his wiry neck twitching slightly. He adjusted his bent back, and smiled, knowing he already passed a message.

And so, he took a girl home. They had talked about it, and both decided it was the right time. Before then, he made it an habit of staying away from his father as much as he could. He just couldn’t stand the drama the man’s personality inspires. Bimbo though insisted she wanted to see his family, and get to know them. Things went well for the first hour, or so he thought, as his mother, and father seemed the perfect host. They all made small talk over a meal of amala, and egusi, with bush meat. After the meal, his parents asked questions, and his mom seemed especially happy, considering she hardly saw him at all. But, at that time, his dad seemed reserved, but hee took no exception to the fact – his father was notoriously moody.

After the pleasantaries, his dad called him inside. He obliged, leaving his mom, and Bimbo in the living room.

“You’ve not found yourself a wife” He blurted out without preamble immediately they entered a room. Seun, too surprised for an instant reply could only watch.

“Yes, and I don’t want you seeing her again”

“Why” He finally found his voice.

“Why? Because am telling you to. Am your father, and what I can see sitting down, you can’t see jumping” He was raising his voice already.

Begun was getting annoyed. Who does he think he was. Telling him who to marry? Will this man ever understand he can’t control every aspect of his life? Why he whispered instead, voice shaking slightly.

“Because am your father, and I know what’s best for you. Is that enough?” He stood up, and tried to make his way to the door. That has always been his way of settling issues – he orders, then leaves the room, leaving no room for argument, or objections.

Segun in a fit of uncontrolled anger, shouted “It won’t work this time. You can’t walk out, and shut the door, and with it, all objections. It’s my life, and I should have a say.”

“Really? I gave birth to you, and I can, and will tell you what to do” He screamed back.

Segun laughed, bitterly. “You don’t get it, do you? I no longer stay with you. You can’t use my school fees to blackmail me anymore. I am my own man”

“Really?” His father almost sounded sad.

“Yes”

“And if that’s the case, you’re disowned.” He seemed desperate now. “If you won’t heed my advice, but want to continue with the girl, you’re no longer my child.” He still had the last say as Segun, too stunned to react, just watch him storm out of the room.

………………………………………………………..

 

Segun first met Bimbo during service year, when the local government where he served brought her batch from camp. He was among the organising committee that prepared drinks, and snacks for them. At around three pm, a wild applause from the waiting coup members signalled their arrival. He went outside to welcome them, and immediately squinted, as the sun rays blinded him momentarily.

He stood still, and covered his eyes, waiting. Others were by now helping them with their bags, and were moving towards him. They eventually got close enough to block the sun rays, and the first sight his retina focused on was her. She literally walked out of the sun. He almost believed that, as the smile she was wearing could brighten grey skies, and her face was the kind that stopped traffic, and race hearts in its wake. Socially awkward, he smiled back, and turned, his own heart thumping.

He fell in love with her the day he saw her walk into the sunset. It was on a thursday, and he was out taking his routine walk in the evening when he saw her ahead, walking the deserted road, alone. It was a road reaching skywards, until it kissed the emerging sunset, surrounded by spiralling hills that defiled gravity. A moment in the right place sometimes can pierce your heart. Seeing her against the sunset, was the solitary validation of such a moment for him. He jogged ahead, and fell into steps with her. A month later, he asked her out. Two months after that, they started dating.

He finished service before her, and left for home, leaving her there. And when she would be done too, he was still at home, jobless. It was she, through the contacts of her rich family, that eventually got him get a job.

Before taking her home, they were already dating for more than two years, and supposedly, in love.     He wasn’t sure if she heard them that day, and he never asked. He believed she had already done more for him than most people he knew, and he was in love with her too. He would not leave her, irrespective of his fathers wishes – the man had no reason, except control. He would not allow him that. He would rather not go back. Every now, and then, he called his mom, and she always brought up the fact he needed to mend fences with his dad, and he, without sounding rude, always changed the subject. At this point, he hated the man, almost with passion, and all his childhood memories of him were of aggression, and tantrums. He was done with him. He moved on, without his fathers blessings. His mother’s was enough, he thought.

 

………………………………………………………….

 

III

      “This life is not usually what it seems. Friends can turn foes, and those that currently seem to have your best interest can just be masquerading, and dancing for their own interest. So, anything you do, never forget, blood is thicker than water, and family is forever.” His grandfather and himself were seated indoors now, rain having chased them inside.

The old man laid on his flattened mattress that Segun took, and layed in the corridor, while Segun sat on a stool. “Put your family first, and never stray too far from them. Most times, even the worst family members would stick with you during your darkest hour, than any of your best friends ever would. Family knows best, believe me, son.”

Last night, Segun called his mother, and informed her he was coming home. It’s been going on a year he last went home. The last time being the debacle with his father. His mother couldn’t contain her happiness, as she screamed out with joy. “So, you will be here? Are you sure you’re coming? What time will you get here? What would you like to eat? Is Amala ok? Will you be sleeping over? The questions were endless.

Segun just informed her to pass across the message to his father. She told him he was asleep, and that she would inform him first thing tomorrow morning. She thanked him, saying God has answered her prayers. He could picture her, bouncing, and smiling gleefully.

Now, he was on his way home, currently negotiating traffic. What he didn’t tell her was that he was beginning to think his dad was right regarding Bimbo. On their third anniversary, he decided to surprise Bimbo at home, only to meet her in the company of another man. It was the compromising pose they were in that alarmed him. They were locked in what seemed an embrace, or at worst, felt like they were kissing.

If she was surprised, she didn’t show it. Infact, the guy seemed more surprised than She was.  She just excused the guy, who fidgeted a bit as he unfolded his tall, broad shouldered frame, and made his way outside. Without any explanation, she too left for the kitchen.

When she came back, he asked who the stranger was, but she kept quiet, ignoring his questions, and instead turned on the television. She wanted to drown out his questions. He stood up, switched off the tv, and stood tall.

“Who was that?”

“I don’t think you want to know”

“Then why am I asking?”

“You really want to know?” She inquired. He didn’t answer this time. His jaws clenched together, as his nose flared.

“Ok. Am going to tell you. He’s my insurance.”

He watched on as she explained, stunned without measure. “Look at me, I’ve done everything for you. Helped you become who you are today, yet, It doesn’t guarantee anything. People like you always find ways to destroy it all.”

“People like me?” He was seated now, facing her. He needed to, as his legs were shaking like that of a baby giraffe.

“Thought you wanted to hear this. Yes, people like you – from the lower echoleons of society. So, in case anything happens, I’ll fall back on him.” Her beautiful face remained neutral, giving nothing away. It was a sucker punch, and it almost knocked him cold.

“If it’s any consolation, I love you, still. But, I won’t leave him.” She said it, without emotion.

“Jesus Christ” He muttered. This was too much for him to take. How stupid he must look. He came here to surprise her, and take her out, yet he was the one surprised, albeit negatively.

“You can be a gold-digger for all I know, only after my family’s wealth. I need to insulate myself.” She crossed her leg, and her bump shot hiked further up her smooth thighs. Even at this seemingly ‘turbulent’ moment, she was cool, dangerously so.

“Now am a gold digger? I fought my father to be with you. What else do you want, tell me.” He was on his feet now, towering above her, screaming.

“That’s why I don’t trust you. I mean, who does that? Who leaves his family for a girl?” She starred back at him, daring him it seem.

“Because I love you.” He whispered.  She sighed deeply.

“Did your father not tell you anything? I know for a fact he told you something about me the last time we were there. And, I don’t understand how you could know that, and still want me, if not for what you can get.” She stood up, and faced him squarely. “What do you want from me? He told you my secret, did he not? On the day, I was surprised when you still took me home. I thought you would, after hearing him out, want me out of your life for good, but you stuck around long enough for me to start doubting your state of mind, and asking what you want from me.” For the first time, she seemed affected as she starred at her feet, and everywhere else, but his face.

“What are you talking about?” He was genuinely confused. She said she didn’t want to talk about it any longer, as she was not in the mood to wash her dirty laundries in the public. Especially considering she knew it was something already privy to him. But, not before telling him she doesn’t trust him any longer, and she would not leave the other guy.

He watched as the trees lined around the road wheezed past, chasing time, as he drove.  He, as much as he wanted answers, also, needed to apologise to his dad.

 

 

                                    IV

     His grandfather coughed, and his body shook violently from the effect. Segun didn’t know how to help, or what to do, so stood up to get water. He came back, and offered it to him in a bowl. He took it with shaky hands, drank some, and spilled more.  “Thank you. Your own children will take care of you too.” He layed back on the mattress gently as Segun muttered amen. “And may they never mistake your affection for hatred. May they always respect you, and your way of doing things.” Segun bowed his head. “May our ancestors not allow your children forget and despise you in your old age.”

It seems growing up, children saw their parents as the centre of the universe, around which the world revolves, making them seem almost godlike. But, as they grow, other gods, in disguise as sex, peer pressure, money, and other physical pleasures starts to fight for their attention. Suddenly, children begin to see their parents inadequacies, and faults. The wide grin that used to inspire a laughter suddenly becomes crude and the little gait that was of no consequence before, suddenly becomes embarrassing.

When Segun was very young, his father loomed large, like the Egyptian pyramids he saw in books, and his presence had an evocative, deferential air to it, too. He was god-like, and commanded respect. He remembered how his father used to place him on his shoulders, and tickle him until his whole body shook with laughter. He may not have sang them lullabies, but he sang to them Ayinla Omowura, and Sunny Ade, until they fell asleep. He remembered the time he used to sit at his feet, as his father ate bean cake, chewing off a part, and giving him the remains, while he shuffled his thick hair.

Even though their childhood had little in material possession, it made up for it in love, and care. Even when they couldn’t afford a tv, and the closest they got to one was the light of their neighbours tv streaking out intermittently like leons signs through crevices in their door, their father entertained them every night with stories, and fables.

How time fades memories, until it lulls it into a whimper, left in a cold slumber, and lost in the depth of the subconscious. He wasn’t particularly a bad man, just one not of this generation. He was from an era of stern words, and bent rods, not of cuddlings, and “I love you’s.” His father was not educated, yet, he sacrificed his prime to educate Segun, and his brother.

His ways might not have been the best, but in the end, it shaped them into the man they became. He was simply a man who wanted his children to avoid his own ills, and be better than he was, but not overly sure how to accomplish that. He was like – like every father in the world.

Segun was almost home, and he owed his father an apology for all he put him through. He needed his blessings, and he wanted to let him know how much he appreciated all he did for him. He wanted also to let him know, given the circumstances, he raised them right, and maybe he would reveal the secret about Bimbo to him. And, even if he doesn’t want to, he was done with her – family first.

As he maneuvered the car to their street, it was quiet, and seemed deserted. Not a soul in sight.  A car was parked in front of his parents house, and he grinded his to a halt behind it, and got out. Still no sound. Have they forgotten he was coming, and went out, he wondered aloud. He knocked on the gate, but it opened. He went in. The house was a brown painted bungalow, with a front porch. In front of the door were several slippers, and two pairs of shoes.

He took off his own shoes, and entered. The sitting room was over flowing with people, with swollen eyes, and mourning faces. What happened, he asked, in a shaky voice. No one answered. A woman he remembered to be a neighbour, and close friend of the family wailed loudly. His heart was beating fierstly. He left the sitting room, and made his way to his parents room.

He entered without knocking, and laying on the bed, covered in a white cloth was his dad, still as anything. Her mom was on the chair beside the bed, sobbing quietly, while her sister held on to her. He didn’t need confirmation. His dad was dead.  But, seeing his mother cry made the poignancy of it all hit him like a gust of harmattan wind. His legs suddenly gave way, as he fell to the floor.

No one tried to console him, as both women seemed trapped in the well of their own misery, and thoughts. He would have his sour moment, unabashedly, without recourse, without help. He managed to pick himself up, and walked closer to the bed. His fathers face, although peaceful, was unflinching, the hard lines singing of all the hard love he gave, and his mouth, even at the moment of death, formed a pout, as if angry at the world, possibly complaining of all the love he wasn’t shown.

He moved towards his mom, and touched her arms briefly, sharing her misery, and as they both chewed on air, he remembered the last thing his grandfather told him before falling asleep that fateful night. “Make time to always visit your aged ones, no matter what, as they are only old, not immortal” It was the last time he would see the man.

 

—————————-

Olanrewaju Odesomi is an accounting graduate, and a Certified Customer Care Professional. He is a dreamer who dances to his own music, and whose peak is yet to be conquered. Guilty of writing.

 

 

 

 

 

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