DONE ME WELL, WELL DONE.....

I was away in the US when time came for her to go to secondary school. 

My mind was set on ISI but this child had heard from a senior cousin of a school and wanted that school. Upon my return, I ran to pay for ISI where she had scored enough to be placed in JS1, a feat she had achieved the year before in Pry 4 but which I had ignored as I knew she was neither ready physically or in any other way for that matter. I had gone in to collect her admission letter and when asked if she would be coming to resume, I told the staff who asked me that she was just 8 and that would be pushing it. She tried to persuade me, as did a few others but I knew it would be counterproductive. I didn’t want that for her. So, I refused to budge and when I felt she was ready (even though she was only in Pry 5, and barely just turned 10) I had put measures in place to ensure she was ready and she was! 

Plus, Morenike was born mature. I usually made jokes that she tricked me into wanting other children by being so good; I had no idea that either pregnancies or babies could be stressful until her sister was born. She was always happy as a baby and even when she cried, it was with such decorum that I knew she was such a good child. But Mobolade?!?……story for another day!

So, I paid for her to attend ISI and the story came up about this other school and how a family member had facilitated her getting in if she passed the supplementary exam. Okay, let’s go and see the school, do the exam and we’ll take it from there. By this time, I had investigated the school and wanted to see it very badly. We went to the exam with trepidation and luckily, she passed! We were interviewed and offered a place. We managed to raise the fees and soon, she was on her way.

The distance wasn’t too much of a problem but this child who wanted this very badly started hating it. Not because the school was bad but cos it was so different from home. I remember once I went to visit her and she wept like she had lost her best friend and I tried and tried to find out what the matter was. Imagine my consternation when I discovered another girl had called her stupid was the matter?! She found it very traumatic and I wondered if I had not done wrong and over sheltered her. 

Like when she changed primary school from African American Christian School to All Saints’ Church school and would hyperventilate on the way to school, and I discovered it was becos of  some of the boys who were so rough. My solution then had been to teach her to make a fist and make them smell it and tell them in her meanest voice that it’s called ‘one blow, seven die’…..The hyperventilating stopped right after that and she blossomed and stabilized.

She took a crash course in sticking up for herself as I ensured that she should respond in kind to every meanness and soon, the issues stopped.

The trips to see her were initially as tough on me as they were on her but we both soon settled down. Not long after, we suffered another trauma and with this one, I blamed myself far more than necessary. I agonized over how she coped but I was marvelously helped in the sense that I was very open about sharing all that was happening. 

Factuallly, dispassionately, and with a high sense of responsibility, I shared what was going on and ensured she understood how we the adults were responsible and none of it was her fault. And I tried (and failed) to let her see we would try to do the very best for her. I  could not shield her from all of the nastiness try as I did. So, I did the next best thing. I taught her to assess situations and choose the best response to it. She started to do this and even help some of her mates who had different challenges and we would compare notes as to how they were doing with her help.

The turning point came when we got a new lease of life and she started to blossom! 

And blossom!! 

And blossom!!! 

That singular response to our challenges gave me the confidence I needed to free myself from the weight of guilt I felt and helped us, all three of us to begin to heal.

I remember reading a note she had written to herself (a habit I bequeathed her) and she went on and on about why she didn’t want to be in the school and how angry she was about what was going on at home. I was gutted. I felt like a failure all over again. 

Then the school asked us to bring pictures of the family. The graduation ceremony that year featured pictures of different families. There were traditional families with Dad, Mum and the children, there were others with grandparents and some with Uncles and Aunts. There were families where only the Mother and child were featured and only the Father and children too. 

It was a haha moment for me. Families were of different types, shapes and sizes and we thus blended and became a family and soldiered on.

I remember with amusement being refused entry into a vehicle to take my child to school and the threats to life that were delivered to me through her. If only the worm knew what it truly is, it would not dare to imagine it is a snake.

We enjoyed an easy time of it, carried on the wings of grace by my guardian Angel Jamiu on BigG’s assignations. We went easily, returned same way. Several times, we had help when FST started to misbehave and we needed a carriage. My Dean at the time was very gracious, several times, friends stepped in. Too many of you to mention who took on roles for which you are maligned or despised but which showed you are human and humane.

This is a thanksgiving of sorts, the gratitude I feel is beyond normal and my exhibitionist self won’t let this go without saying something.

God has done me well.