FICTION: CHOICES

I looked forward to dinner with anticipation and the enthusiasm of a child on Christmas morning. For the first time in as long as I can remember, we were going to be sharing a meal as a family. I had just returned home a couple of days ago after my convocation upon completion of my First Degree program.

Dad was also around, after a four-month offshore tour. If it is a mere coincidence or if he arranged it to happen this way, I couldn’t tell, but I was sure he wasn’t going to miss it for anything in the world. It had always been his dream to see all his children graduate from higher institutions and I so happened to be the first to achieve that despite being the third child.

My twin older siblings have had issues in their studies that kept them back. Philip was knocked down by a hit-and-run driver in their fourth year in school and had to spend the better part of that year in hospital and another three months at home undergoing physiotherapy before he could make use of his legs again. Thus he lost a whole academic year. Philippa on the other hand experienced a decline in performance and even managed to fail a course for the very first time in the second semester of that session. 

Everyone was somewhat disappointed but then we all knew the sudden dip was not unconnected to her brother’s condition. She spent a lot of time by his bed side and only went to school because he insisted. The two were so attached to each other; 90% of the time, wherever you saw one, you are almost sure the other would be around somewhere. At a younger age, whenever any of them fell sick, mum would buy drugs for two because she knew it was only a matter of time before the other joined. The failed course and lost year earned them both an extra session in school which meant they had to spend six years for a five course. 

The twins though were happy for me. Philip even made the cake for my convocation which dad conspicuously missed due to his job. It had always been about the job, nothing came in between. We saw very little of him while growing up so we got used to his absence. Which made me wonder why I was so enthused about this dinner, I just knew I was.

Everyone was busy putting things in place; Philippa was helping Philip out with his special cake and cookies after mum and I were done with the rice and pepper soup, dad was still upstairs resting after the long journey. Meanwhile Raphael, the baby of the house who came along several years later and overthrew me as the last born, was busy running around and annoying everybody in a way only he could. I couldn’t wait for the occasion to get started already.

“Your dad is so proud of you”. Mum told me as we prepared the table.

“So you are not proud of me”. I replied.

“You know that’s not what I mean. I am always proud of you. Always”.

I smiled. She was right, she always boasted to whoever cared to listen that her daughter was a graduate at age 22. But then it came to me; maybe that’s the reason for the enthusiasm, I couldn’t wait to rub it in dad’s face. He had always picked on me, called me the unserious one, told me I might end up a dropout if I wasn’t careful. Well I’ve made it, against his prediction and now I have my chance to do my victory dance. My happiness knew no bounds. Little did I know that it was going to be a short-lived one.

Later that evening we were all seated around the table; the twins sat across from each other, so did Ralphy and I. We talked and laughed while waiting for dad and mum to join us. The eight sitter diner was never occupied to capacity. In fact, this dinner was going to be the first time it would have up to six people since we moved in to the current house.

Ralphy stretched his hands and grabbed one cookie but his hand was caught mid-way to his mouth by Philippa.

“But I’m hungry”. He protested.

“So are we all. Wait for mum and dad”.

“Are you a glutton?” I asked him jokingly. “You had almost a full bowl of rice while I was cooking”.

“Don’t mind him. Can’t you see how fat he has gotten?” That was Philip. “His belly will burst one of these days”.

“It’s mum that’s spoiling him”. Philippa added.

“What do you expect?”  All four of us turned simultaneously and looked in the direction the voice was coming from. “He is my last card, allow me to spoil him”.

Mum was a pretty woman. At 62 she looked at least 10 years younger and radiated so much glee and grace. She was a tall, standing at 5’7’’, she wasn’t fat but had enough flesh covering her bones. I wished I looked more like her. How I managed to carry more of dad’s features, I don’t understand. Just then he appeared, closely behind mum. ‘Speak of the devil’. He wasn’t bad looking either, as a matter of fact, he was a fine man. But he was skinny, I wouldn’t care less about that if not that I had inherited the gene. Add that to the fact he was short, or at least shorter than mum. Insentiently, I looked myself over then at Philippa, there she was so beautiful, looking like a proper lady. I always envied her.

She had once teased that dad probably wanted a baby boy while mum wanted a girl, so God answered them both by giving them a balanced equation in me. ‘Snap out of this’. I told myself. This is not the time. I can’t be like her, she has always been the perfect daughter, unlike me. Well at least I now have my own moment of victory. 

After everyone was seated, dad apologized once again for being away too long. We had heard that so many times we could almost recite the lines alongside. Even Ralphy didn’t feel his absence anymore. Right now we cared less about what he had to say, although we all gladly accepted the gifts he brought, but more important to us at the moment was the food waiting patiently for us to devour it. 

The feast began. We talked about so many things, as the home theater sound system dished some good tunes in the backgroung, we talked about politics, segued into sports, relatives, lifestyle and so on. Dad told us tales of live at sea. Then we came to education; Yes, now I have my chance to taunt him. As the twins talked about their experiences dad looked at me and noticed the smirk on my face as I waited for my turn. Suddenly he stood up, picked up his glass of wine and raised it to make a toast. My countenance changed instantly. The man’s oratory prowess was next to none other, immediately I knew he would end up ruining my moment. He actually did. I can’t believe this. He is always doing this.

After the long speech; 2-thirds of which was used to grovel and ingratiate with everyone, he had managed to win the others over. But not me. I refused to fall for his tricks, not this time. When he came to my turn he said; “…….and last but certainly not the least, to my darling baby and beloved daughter, for making me and the entire family proud. For becoming the first graduate of the family. Words cannot describe the joy I feel right now to finally become the father of a graduate...” 

He went on and on pouring accolades but all I heard was ‘bla bla bla’, couldn’t wait for it to be over. At the end of it all they toasted, clinked glasses and drank happily while I merely went through the motions. As we all settled back down to continue with the meal I prepared to make a speech of my own. Even though he had succeeded in dousing whatever effect my speech would make, I was still determined to make my voice heard.

Sometimes I think dad is somehow clairvoyant. Because what he said next caught me totally off guard. How does he manage to read my mind and just do or say things to draw my attention away?

“Now this phase is over, the next thing would be to go for in for Master’s immediately”. He said.

The entire table fell silent. The Philippa looked at me expectantly, mum simply looked away because she knew my stance on the issue.

He went on and on about the importance of obtaining a Master’s degree and even a Doctorate. ‘Oh! How nice it would be to have a PhD holder in the family’. Mum raised her face and met my gaze. ‘Keep it calm’. She pleaded with her eyes. That seemed to work, it defused the anger welling up inside of me.

“I am not interested in furthering beyond first degree”. I said calmly but with an air of defiance. That sentence was a punch right in dad’s gut. His smile quickly changed to a frown. 

“What nonsense are you saying?” He asked.

“I don’t want to continue”. I repeated.

He dropped his glass of wine and fixed his gaze on me. Those piercing eyes. I couldn’t withstand them even in my state of defiance. I quickly looked away. “No child of mine will be a dropout”. According to him First Degree has become as common as Ordinary Level certificate, for anybody to be considered educated, he has to have a Master’s Degree at least. 

He wasn’t the only one in this school of thought, Philippa agreed with him too. “The labor market has become crowded with millions of graduate being turned out by various institutions yearly and the competition has also doubled. So if you want to stand a chance to compete, you need to have an edge, that’s what a higher degree offers you”.

“Exactly”. Dad concurred as he picked up from where she stopped and continued preaching the long sermon. I saw reasons with them, but I had other plans. Besides I wasn’t going to allow him force his will on me anymore. 

“But dad I don’t want to do Masters. I intend to. …”

“You intend to do what”? He exploded. “Tell me what you intend to do. You’re not happy you have someone to sponsor you, all you have to do is go to school, study and pass. How difficult is that? I see, your plan is to run to one man and get married right? Well that isn’t going to happen while I still draw breath. Do you have any idea how people wish they had someone to see them through secondary school? You have the opportunity to study to whatever level you want, here you are telling what you intend to do. You are going to do that masters, and that’s final”.

Well, I had made my own decision which was final too. Mom saw my expression and knew my composure had reached its limits, I was about to burst out. She is the one person that understands me so much. We could complete a whole conversation without speaking a single word, just facial expressions and glances. She immediately stepped in and spoke because she knew I was most likely going to spew some venom that would hurt everyone.

“Oko mi”. She started. “Don’t you think you’re being too hasty in your decision? I mean, she just finished first degree, you should allow her rest a bit before all the talks about furthering”. “Besides she might have other plans of her own, after all it is her life, she should have a say”.

“Oh! I see. ‘It is her life’. He tried to mimic mum. “She has suddenly grown so big that she now makes her own decision under my roof”. 

“But daddy, why don’t you hear me out”. I pleaded. The initial steam had blown over, I realized being angry and raising my voice at him would only cause more problems for me. He was a typical Nigerian parent and won’t stand his child exchanging words with him or challenging his authority to his face. So I behaved myself and hid all the things I’ve seen in foreign movies deep inside my back pocket knowing they wouldn’t work here.

“Now you listen to me”. He cut me off again. “I had always wanted to be an academic doctor. But I was orphaned while I was in secondary school and only barely managed to see myself through to University level. After my first degree I dropped out and started working to save up enough money to go back and continue. Then I met your mum and love happened, shortly after you guys came along. I couldn’t bear the responsibility of raising a family and furthering my education, so I made the decision to jettison academic pursuit and concentrate on giving you the best of everything”. He took a deep sigh then concluded; “That was when I vowed that none of my children would stop where I stopped”.

All the while Philip had not contributed one word to the argument. He too, just like me, wanted to stop at Bachelor’s and then chase a career or go into other ventures. But he had been convinced otherwise by his twin who was the bookish one. Now I am left alone in the struggle. Raphy was busy all the while helping himself to the meal, he couldn’t care less about whatever was going on.

Now dad was a little calmer, he listened, without cutting me off, as I spoke about plans. I wasn’t going to abandon academics altogether. My intentions were to get professional diplomas in my field after which I would secure a good relevant job that would give me first hand on-the-job training. Then after working for a while, I would set up my own company where I would take up contracts for provision of alternative power supply to homes and factories. “I am a hand-on person. I said. “I love to do things with my hands not just sit somewhere and read books while others did the real jobs”.

There was a moment of silence after I finished. Four pairs of eyes trained on dad as we all held our breath, awaiting his response. With his elbows on the table and his fingers interlocked, he leaned forward and brought the indexes close to his mouth and tapped them together as he mused on what I just said. After 30 long seconds he spoke. “So that is tremendous plan you have”? All our hearts sank. He wasn’t done. “You mean I spent my hard earned money to send you to the best schools affordable only for you to become some menial laborer?”. “I just don’t understand why you have sworn to always defy me and bring disgrace to my name”.

I knew it was going to come to this. Dad and I have always had it rough. He considers me a rebel ever since I chose to study engineering instead of accountancy that he wanted. It took the intervention of mum and some influential close relatives to make him agree but with the condition that I would do computer engineering because according to him it was less masculine and had a little more prestige than other engineering disciplines. “I can’t have a daughter who is a road side mechanic or carries blocks to build houses or climbs up and down poles fixing lights in people’s houses”. He had said.

Of course I accepted his condition but in my second year I transferred from computer to electrical engineering which had always been my aspiration. Dad never got to know until my fourth year. 

“Listen young woman”. He said coldly. “Until you get over this madness that has befallen you and regain your senses, don’t come to me for anything”. He stood up slowly as the seat made a long creak, scraping against the tiled floor. As he made his way out of the room, he turned back. “And I mean it”. I gaped after him in disbelief as he walked out. Then turned to look at mum. There was this look of resignation on her face. 

The next five minutes that followed saw Philippa and I continuing the argument from where dad left off. She wanted me to reconsider my stance and did what dad asked at least to make him happy. “What about my own happiness”? I asked her. It doesn’t always have to be about him. I told her to endeavour to study for both of us since she was the nerd of the house and the perfect daughter; daddy’s girl. “As for me I’m done”.

The space between my dad and I widened. We hardly spoke to each other until he returned to the rig after two weeks at home. And true to his word he never gave me anything despite mum’s efforts to speak him on my behalf, trying to get him to see things from a different perspective. Even when I got my National Youth Service Corp call-up later, he refused to give me any money to purchase the things I needed and for transportation. I had to make do with what mum could afford. That was the toughest period of my life. But I wasn’t ready to budge, dad was a dictator, always forcing his will on others. Now he wants to use us to fulfill the dreams he couldn’t achieve. What about our own dreams, our happiness? I was never book-intelligent. 

I am better of as a craftsman or woman as is the case. I loved to build things as a child. While other girls my age were playing with dolls and cooking, I would be running around with the boys playing football, building toy cars and houses. As I grew older I discovered my love for electronics, they fascinated me; the simplicity in their complexity. How tiny little pieces and parts come together to make the entire system work.

At age 10 I could dismantle almost any electronic device in the house and still manage to couple them. Although I ended up damaging so many. At a time, I was banned from touching any device in the house. A ban that had very little effect.

While I was in secondary school, I became the electrician of the house. I could fix little electrical fittings like lamp holders, sockets and light fittings much to the disapproval of my dad. All I wanted and I felt I needed was proper training so I could start off something on my own. When I mentioned it to my family it sounded like anathema; an abomination, sacrilege. “Olorun ma je”. Mum screamed. “God forbid it that my child would be an illiterate”. Dad didn’t say much but that was the last time I mentioned the issue because he promised to check me into a mental home if I as much as breathed it again. That was how I found myself in the University where I had to struggle to pass exams but excelled in field works. Well now I’ve gotten the knowledge I need, dad can keep the certificate. All I need now is the practical experience not some more classroom theory. And nothing would make me go back to those boring lecturers who nothing about actual practical work.

The feud with dad continued throughout my service year. We never saw neither did we speak to each other. I had to manage whatever mum sent to supplement the meager money NYSC paid us. Mum had to resort to different means of squeezing a little more money from dad every opportunity she had. The whole thing was beginning to tell negatively on her small business so one day she called me and we spent over an hour on the phone.

“Mummy if it’s about the money, don’t bother. You’ve done so much already; I think I’ll be able to survive on my own. I don’t need his money and I don’t want any man forcing me against my will because he is providing for me”. I had said with a resolute defiance.

But mum tried to convince me that she wasn’t asking me to do it because of dad nor because of the financial constraints on her part. But because she felt it would be to my own advantage. I could get more opportunities and better exposure. Besides it’s just one-year thing, I’d be out before I knew it.

After listening to her I was sure even the devil would have been moved and I wasn’t anything close to the devil. I was moved.

“No mummy”. I said suddenly like someone awakening from a dream. “We cannot continue to allow him dictate everything that happens in our lives. We have our own lives to live, he should let us make our decisions”.

“Oh God”! She exclaimed. “You are just like him; strong-willed and stiff necked”. “But for peace to reign one has to concede to the other, and you know your dad would never do that, his ego won’t let him”. Please baby, let it go. You’re still young and have all the time to do whatever you want. Just let dad have this victory”.

“He has always the victory. When was the last time we did anything meaningful that wasn’t what he wanted”? “Look at you mummy, you had a career once, he made you give you give that up just because…...”

“Don’t go there”. She said. I could hear the strain in her voice. That was one topic she hated being brought up, so I apologized and dropped it. After a long hour of discussion and persuasion, the call ended in a stalement. If anything, I was more resolute than ever. I felt for mum though because I knew the entire thing was affecting her relationship with her husband of almost 3 decades. But then I wasn’t going to give in. Her calls never ended without her saying prayers for me. The last 5 minutes of the call was spent with me responding ‘amen’. “You should consider starting a Church or at least the more common one- a ministry”. We both laughed at my tease which eased the tension as she clicked off.

After that day I went through the remainder of my service year without asking a dime for mum again although sometimes I received bank credit alerts from anonymous sources. I knew she was the one even though she denied it each time. I did little installation jobs and fixed some domestic appliances for fellow Corp members and a few residents in the remote area where I was deployed. Whatever I got from it, I made do with.

I just couldn’t wait to be done with service. Since the whole feud with dad began, I’ve had to rearrange my priorities. My number one priority after NYSC was to secure a good job that would pay well enough so I can save up money to the diplomas I wanted to do. Every other plans, however, remained the same. Thankfully I wouldn’t have to worry about getting a job. A number of jobs were already waiting for me. Well, that was according to the promises from uncles and other relatives. “You don’t have to worry, just get your discharge certificate, then rest assured there’s something waiting for you”. Mum’s elder brother had said. There were also many others like that. So I was confident securing a job wouldn’t be a problem. Once again I was wrong.

End of the service year was exciting, I headed home with a lots of sashay in my gait only to be humbled by reality. All those who made promises suddenly had a change in tone. “You know what”. They would say. “Send me your C.V. let me see what I can do”. After submitting countless copies of C.V and resume and waiting forever to get a call, a gave up. I decided to get out there and find something for myself. So I hit the streets, joined a number online groups where vacancies are advertised and sent tons of emails. My phone with me as I waited patiently expecting a call or an email anytime. Nothing happen until after three months.

When the call finally came it was from the most unlikely of sources. I had to double check the name displaying on my screen. Dad. “Must be a mistake”. I told myself, ignoring the call. I haven’t from him since after the dinner over one year ago although he had sent me a message with airtime recharge pin on my birthday. I was certain he intended to call someone and mistakenly dialed my number. The rang again, I checked, dad. Now this is getting serious. Why is he calling me? Could it be that there was an emergency? If so, he’d call mum or the twins. Not me. Anyway I allowed curiosity get the better of me as I picked after the fourth ring but didn’t know what to say, I just held the phone to my ear. 

“Hello”. He said.

A sudden chill of relieve rushed down my spine. I was actually happy to hear his voice. I was surprised at the strange feeling. ‘Well at least he sounds fine, there is no emergency’. I told myself, trying to justify the odd happiness.

“Good morning sir”. I responded, trying to sound indifferent.

“Go to the office tomorrow before 10”. He said. “Carry all your credentials with you ”.

Next second he clicked off. It took me some time to process what had just happened. He just called; no pleasantries, no salutations.

He gave orders and off he went. So characteristic of him. Always the dictator. I was angry with myself for feeling happy that he called. What does he want my credentials for? Maybe he has gone ahead to purchase Master’s form for me. Well that is his business. I am not going back to school, at least not now, and I am not going to any office tomorrow. Later that day I told mum about it and somehow she managed to convince me.

When I got to the office, I met dad’s friend, Mr. Gabriel Aremu, who was the Human Resource Manager. “Last time I saw you, you were this little”. He said. Depicting my height with his hand just above his round protruding belly. This is why I don’t like family weddings and other ceremonies.

There are always relatives who would remind how small you used to be and how big you’ve grown, as if they expected one to remain the same forever. I managed to smile as I got up to greet him. My meeting with Mr. Aremu was a brief one. Dad was still away at sea but the company was recruiting people into their graduate internship program so he asked Mr. Aremu to collect the document and help me fill out all necessary applications. I didn’t know how to react. I was so happy the long wait was over. But this meant I would be working in the same company with dad. I just hoped we don’t get to work together. I don’t think I stand working under a dictatorial boss. I quickly dismissed the thought. With a wide smile plastered across my face I followed Mr. Aremu’s instructions and did everything I needed to do.

Everything that happened after that was a blur to me. All I remembered was that I left the office almost sprinting. When I got home and broke news to mum she didn’t seem too surprised but she was very excited nonetheless.

“Woman so you knew about this and didn’t tell me?”

She laughed heartily and told me dad had called her some days ago and asked her to tell me to send my credentials to the office but she refused and insisted he called me himself. It had taken some effort on her part to get him to soften up enough to do it. We both laughed. Immediately I called the twins who were in school preparing for their final exams, and told them the good news. Everyone was happy for me and more especially for the fact that the tension seemed to have eased a bit with dad. I had to end the call with them because another call was coming in. I was dad. This time I didn’t waste time to pick it. I quickly greeted him and continued thanking him.

“I am the one that called, allow me talk”. He said, cutting me off. Again. My countenance fell. Why is he this way?

“Mr. Aremu told me you’ve submitted the application”. He continued. I was silent. “Start preparing, they will likely call you for an aptitude test before the week runs out”.

There was a long silence. The next thing I heard shock me. 

“Baby, I am sorry”.

I looked around to see where the voice was coming from. It was just mum there and it wasn’t her voice I heard. I looked at the phone screen, the line was still active. But it couldn’t have come from dad. I couldn’t remember when he called me that name last. And dad never apologizes. Never. I must be imagining things.

“Hello”. He said.

“He…he...hello daddy”. I stuttered.

He heaved a sigh. “I am sorry for everything that has happened…….”

Oh my God! I was hallucinating. It’s actually dad apologizing. My heart nearly jumped out of my chest with excitement. But wait. Suddenly the events of the past two days started coming back. First dad calls me then asks me to go submit credentials for internship; what happened to compulsory master’s degree? As if that wasn’t bad enough, he is on the line now apologizing.

The thought of my dad and apology in one sentence gave me cold shivers. He was talking. But I could barely hear him, I was lost in my own thoughts. Is everything alright? I asked myself hoping to find an explanation for the sudden turn of events. Maybe dad is sick, doctors have told him he would die soon so he’s trying to make peace. No, can’t be. I quickly put that thought aside. I must be watching too much foreign movies. But if he’s not dying, what else could be responsible for this strange behavior?

“I know my actions have caused so much strain in our relationship”. His deep baritone voice became audible again. He went on for nearly 20 minutes apologizing and trying to explain reasons behind his actions. Mum had since gone up stairs, leaving me alone with dad on the phone. I felt relieved that I was alone. I didn’t want anyone, not even mum, to see the tears forming in my eyes. I tried to hold it back as it stung my eyes. All my efforts were fruitless, the tears began to flow like the tap was damaged.

“All I wanted was what’s best for you and your siblings”. He said. “I wanted to give you the best of everything, everything I never had and more”.

‘And that’s exactly what you’ve been doing daddy’. I thought to myself. I sobbing so hard that words refused to form in my mouth.

“I should have realized earlier that nothing in live is good enough if there is no happiness in it”. “I am so sorry I pushed you so hard and pushed you away”.

I could notice dad’s voice was changing, the deep baritone was becoming lighter and he was pausing in middle of sentences. Now whenever I think of it I laugh hard; dad was actually going to cry. But then I couldn’t stand it. I had to stop him from talking. “I am sorry too daddy”. I managed to say in between sobs. “Terribly sorry. I should not have challenged you the way I did. I know you want the best for me, you’re my father and you know better, but this is what I want. I am sorry I caused you and the family so much pain. But I promise daddy, I will never disappoint you, I will not let you down”.

“I know baby, I’ve always been proud of you”.   “Òmò jó daddy e, Mo nifẹ ọmọ mi”.

“I love you too daddy. But I don’t look like you”. We both laughed. 

The discussion ended yet neither of us was willing to end the call. In the next few seconds I went back down Memory Lane to when I was a baby; dad and I were pals. He’d bathe me, dress me, take me wherever he went. Until I turned 6 or there about and everything change. That was when he got this job.

A tap on the shoulder jolted back to reality. Mum

“How long have you been here”. I asked, surprised. 

“Long enough”. She said with a big smile. The smile of someone who is finally seeing her plenty underground efforts yielding benefits.

“You’re happy now right?” I asked. 

“Of course. Aren’t you?”

I simply shrugged, trying in vain to pretend. 

“You know your dad truly loves you, he just has a strange way of showing it. You can call it tough love”. “I remember when you were….”

“When I was 4 years old”. I completed her sentence. “Yes I remember. You’ve told me the story a hundred and one times.

She laughed and hugged me as we walked hand in hand upstairs.