Musing; Who Raised These Devils?
Parents! Where you at? Pull your chairs close and form a circle, intervention style, we need to have a discussion.
It has been on my mind to do a piece on parenting. I planned to title it Children’s Way to Parenting. I knew that was going to cause sniggers and upturned noses, but I care less, infact, I do not care at all. If the message will be put out there, if a change can still be effected, if only one child’s life will be better for it, I am utterly satisfied. I have spoken with a number of children, teenagers and young adults and a thread that runs through some of their narratives is that parents are getting it wrong. I have also had to tell some of these people I’ve spoken with that their parents are doing the best they know how to. I thought I needed to speak to some more, gather more examples, before that piece will get done. I read something some minutes ago that broke my heart, drove me to tears, unsettled my tummy, brought me to hot anger and demanded this be put out without further delay.
Parents, are we all seated now? Good. That preamble was to get us to settle down. Let’s go. For some of us born after the 1990, it may be difficult to relate with what I’m about to say, but just follow. I say after 1990 because by then, things became considerably better, rules were more relaxed. If you have a very imaginative mind, you will get a perfect picture. Parenting before this era was predominantly done by creating space. Let me pause here and say that I’m not using absolute verbs or adjectives because I know that there are exceptions to every rule. If you fall in the exception category, have a peep into what the other side of the spectrum experienced.
African parents are big on respect. I’m all for respect, there’s nothing wrong with it. Where respect and affection are bundled together, I have a problem with it. For an African parent, in the period under review, you dared not look your parent, particularly your father, in the eye. You spoke when you were asked a question, not necessarily when you were spoken to. In some homes, there were ‘daddy’s chair’ and ‘mummy’s chair’ which were shown the same respect as those that occupied them - daddy and mummy alone. A lady told me that in her home, growing up, they only had daddy’s chair, because it was a polygamous setting. If all the mummies had to have their chairs, they would have a mini conference room in their living room. She said whenever her dad was away, he travelled a lot, his chair would be covered with a velvet cloth, and every time they passed by that chair, they curtsied. I laughed so hard, trying to picture an entire household curtseying to a wooden piece of furniture.
In that household, they knew their father loved them all. He always came back from his trips with gifts for every member of the family, no one was ever left out. But this lady can never remember being hugged by her father. Yes, there were occasional pats on the head for something they did right, but that was as close as it got. Actually, they all maintained a respectable distance from him. My naughty mind wondered how he came about so many children. Anyway, an arrangement obviously worked between him and his women. The lady said she remembered some occasions when her mum hugged her, but those were few and well spaced. The closest body contact she constantly made with her mum were the hair plaiting sessions every weekend and times her mum bathed her before she was old enough to do it herself.
There are so many examples I cannot enumerate here. The point is, parenting, in Africa, was done by ‘long distance’, and this has been passed down generations. But every human being requires some amount of other human body contact for a full and healthy development, you see. Hugs, touch on the hand, a peck, a kiss on the forehead, a soft pat of the cheek. I see you rolling your eyes thinking that is foreign mentality. I have an opinion on that, but it isn’t for now. Many young and not so young adults these days, I’m referring to people between the age bracket of 25 – let’s stop at 80, I know you get the drift, did not have a very close relationship with their parents. Knowing they’re loved, yes, close, no. Things are changing now, thankfully, though some of us are still transferring our experiences to our children. Once this foundation of a close and loving relationship does not exist between parents and their children, the children are already disadvantaged. They cannot freely discuss with their parents. They seek answers from their peers, who also know next to nothing on the subject matter, learn by experimenting, which could be negatively life changing or turn to other non-stellar sources.
What did I read? An account of a secondary school girl in the boarding house. She actually called it hell. Initially, I didn’t attach much meaning to the word, it is so flippantly used these days that the real impact is lost on us. She caught my attention when she said she was made to eat faeces by her seniors and when she vomited from that activity, was made to eat up her vomit. I’m retching all over again. Her head was dipped into their dormitory toilet and anytime she came up without some faeces in her hair, she was made to do it again. I screamed to myself “who raised these devils?!” Bear in mind these are children between the ages of 14 and 17, depending on the age they got into the secondary school. This is supposed to be the age of innocence. How did they conceptualize such evil? What raped them of the sweet childhood a child should have? A ‘senior girl’ told a ‘junior girl’ she hates her for bearing the same name with her, simply because in her opinion, ‘junior girl’ is not pretty and to her, sharing first name with someone not pretty is an insult on her person. For once, I was grateful I never went to the boarding house. That is not to say students that went to school from home on a daily basis did not have their share of bullying or peer brutality, but I have always held the opinion boarding students had it worse.
I ask, are these ‘seniors’ unleashing the pain, anguish and lovelessness they experienced at home on the defenseless younger ones in school? Were they brought up to be that evil? In which case I’ll ask if they were raised by demons. Or, are they possessed? That’s a general African consensus for unexplainable (mis)behavior. Do they exhibit same character at home? If they do, have their parents simply given up on them or they just look away and expect the education institutions they have paid, to deal with them? What of children who are subjected to these treatments? How do they fare? What is the long term effect on them? One thing that I have noticed cuts across these victims is that they usually cannot speak up. The senior students either threaten them so much and put so much fear in them, or they think the adults that should be able to intervene will not believe them or worse still will punish them for peddling falsehoods. Only a handful are bold enough to report these cases. Then I ask again, what of the adults assigned to take care of these children in school? Where are they when these things happen? Why are they unapproachable? Unfortunately, I have also heard of children who died from extreme bullying in secondary schools. I know bullying happens outside the secondary/high school settings also, but for the purpose of discuss, let’s stick with this setting.
Parents, do I still have your attention? Can I ask you to appraise yourself? Can your child(ren) approach you with any and every topic or issue they need clarification on? Can your son, attaining the age of puberty tell you when he first experiences night emission or what is more commonly called wet dream? I know of a young man who had this experience and thought he was ill. Is your daughter aware of what menstruation is before she sees her first spot of blood? Some of you are snickering? You think it isn’t possible not to tell your daughter about her periods before or when she gets them? Ask that lady whose mom made a huge drama of her first period. As a secondary school student myself, I came across a girl, walking towards the female convenience, crying, blood flowing down her legs and other students staring at her. I walked up to her and asked what the problem was, she could not explain. She just knew she was bleeding ‘from under’ and was very certain she had not hurt herself. I was just in the third form myself. I took her into the toilet, helped her clean up and explained to her as much as I could, what she was experiencing. I later took her to the school nurse for a sanitary pad. I cannot even remember now who that girl is, but I hope her mother took over from there and properly explained things to her.
In all our career progress, in all the money we amass and stow for our children, are we attending to their emotional needs? Are we raising well rounded adults? I know of an adult, who has no relationship with his father, save the biological tie. The father so talked down at him, ridiculed him publicly and emotionally tortured him, all the while thinking he was pushing him to be a better man, to aim high and achieve more. Today, that man has a living, breathing father, but that’s as far as it goes. He does not know if he loves his father or not, he just knows the man is there. I want to believe such a father is not enjoying that situation either. I want to believe parents want the closeness of their children, their friendship. But, you see, they won’t just jump into this kind of relationship with you, you have to nurture it.
Do you consider your tone of voice with them? Do you consider their feeling when you make certain decisions and take a rigid and final stand on it? Do you know the impact comparing them with others have on them? Do you know how deeply it hurts them when you tell them how disappointed you are in them? I think you should know. Why? Because some of you experienced the same thing growing up. Some adults have no self esteem today because their parent(s) always talked down on them. You think calling a child an olodo (empty head) will make them sit up in class? No, it won’t. Let me tell you what it will do. You’re supposed to be the number one cheerleader of your child. When you drop the pompom and talk at or to them not with them, they believe they cannot do better. They become and feel defeated. Ever wondered why teams have cheerleaders? Find out. Even when they are underperforming, encourage them in love. This is not limited to children below the legal age alone. With the biting economic situation, we have adult children still living with their parents. You think they’re enjoying it? Instead of dangling it in their faces every day that they should have been out of your house, silence is a better response to their situation. You don’t have to say it sometimes, acting it out is as bad as saying it. Give them a comfortable environment to process their situation and chart a way forward. Don’t think for them, you did that when they were younger. Don’t take their experience from them and make it your own, it isn’t yours, it’s theirs, allow them own it.
It has been on my mind to do a piece on parenting. I planned to title it Children’s Way to Parenting. I knew that was going to cause sniggers and upturned noses, but I care less, infact, I do not care at all. If the message will be put out there, if a change can still be effected, if only one child’s life will be better for it, I am utterly satisfied. I have spoken with a number of children, teenagers and young adults and a thread that runs through some of their narratives is that parents are getting it wrong. I have also had to tell some of these people I’ve spoken with that their parents are doing the best they know how to. I thought I needed to speak to some more, gather more examples, before that piece will get done. I read something some minutes ago that broke my heart, drove me to tears, unsettled my tummy, brought me to hot anger and demanded this be put out without further delay.
Parents, are we all seated now? Good. That preamble was to get us to settle down. Let’s go. For some of us born after the 1990, it may be difficult to relate with what I’m about to say, but just follow. I say after 1990 because by then, things became considerably better, rules were more relaxed. If you have a very imaginative mind, you will get a perfect picture. Parenting before this era was predominantly done by creating space. Let me pause here and say that I’m not using absolute verbs or adjectives because I know that there are exceptions to every rule. If you fall in the exception category, have a peep into what the other side of the spectrum experienced.
African parents are big on respect. I’m all for respect, there’s nothing wrong with it. Where respect and affection are bundled together, I have a problem with it. For an African parent, in the period under review, you dared not look your parent, particularly your father, in the eye. You spoke when you were asked a question, not necessarily when you were spoken to. In some homes, there were ‘daddy’s chair’ and ‘mummy’s chair’ which were shown the same respect as those that occupied them - daddy and mummy alone. A lady told me that in her home, growing up, they only had daddy’s chair, because it was a polygamous setting. If all the mummies had to have their chairs, they would have a mini conference room in their living room. She said whenever her dad was away, he travelled a lot, his chair would be covered with a velvet cloth, and every time they passed by that chair, they curtsied. I laughed so hard, trying to picture an entire household curtseying to a wooden piece of furniture.
In that household, they knew their father loved them all. He always came back from his trips with gifts for every member of the family, no one was ever left out. But this lady can never remember being hugged by her father. Yes, there were occasional pats on the head for something they did right, but that was as close as it got. Actually, they all maintained a respectable distance from him. My naughty mind wondered how he came about so many children. Anyway, an arrangement obviously worked between him and his women. The lady said she remembered some occasions when her mum hugged her, but those were few and well spaced. The closest body contact she constantly made with her mum were the hair plaiting sessions every weekend and times her mum bathed her before she was old enough to do it herself.
There are so many examples I cannot enumerate here. The point is, parenting, in Africa, was done by ‘long distance’, and this has been passed down generations. But every human being requires some amount of other human body contact for a full and healthy development, you see. Hugs, touch on the hand, a peck, a kiss on the forehead, a soft pat of the cheek. I see you rolling your eyes thinking that is foreign mentality. I have an opinion on that, but it isn’t for now. Many young and not so young adults these days, I’m referring to people between the age bracket of 25 – let’s stop at 80, I know you get the drift, did not have a very close relationship with their parents. Knowing they’re loved, yes, close, no. Things are changing now, thankfully, though some of us are still transferring our experiences to our children. Once this foundation of a close and loving relationship does not exist between parents and their children, the children are already disadvantaged. They cannot freely discuss with their parents. They seek answers from their peers, who also know next to nothing on the subject matter, learn by experimenting, which could be negatively life changing or turn to other non-stellar sources.
What did I read? An account of a secondary school girl in the boarding house. She actually called it hell. Initially, I didn’t attach much meaning to the word, it is so flippantly used these days that the real impact is lost on us. She caught my attention when she said she was made to eat faeces by her seniors and when she vomited from that activity, was made to eat up her vomit. I’m retching all over again. Her head was dipped into their dormitory toilet and anytime she came up without some faeces in her hair, she was made to do it again. I screamed to myself “who raised these devils?!” Bear in mind these are children between the ages of 14 and 17, depending on the age they got into the secondary school. This is supposed to be the age of innocence. How did they conceptualize such evil? What raped them of the sweet childhood a child should have? A ‘senior girl’ told a ‘junior girl’ she hates her for bearing the same name with her, simply because in her opinion, ‘junior girl’ is not pretty and to her, sharing first name with someone not pretty is an insult on her person. For once, I was grateful I never went to the boarding house. That is not to say students that went to school from home on a daily basis did not have their share of bullying or peer brutality, but I have always held the opinion boarding students had it worse.
I ask, are these ‘seniors’ unleashing the pain, anguish and lovelessness they experienced at home on the defenseless younger ones in school? Were they brought up to be that evil? In which case I’ll ask if they were raised by demons. Or, are they possessed? That’s a general African consensus for unexplainable (mis)behavior. Do they exhibit same character at home? If they do, have their parents simply given up on them or they just look away and expect the education institutions they have paid, to deal with them? What of children who are subjected to these treatments? How do they fare? What is the long term effect on them? One thing that I have noticed cuts across these victims is that they usually cannot speak up. The senior students either threaten them so much and put so much fear in them, or they think the adults that should be able to intervene will not believe them or worse still will punish them for peddling falsehoods. Only a handful are bold enough to report these cases. Then I ask again, what of the adults assigned to take care of these children in school? Where are they when these things happen? Why are they unapproachable? Unfortunately, I have also heard of children who died from extreme bullying in secondary schools. I know bullying happens outside the secondary/high school settings also, but for the purpose of discuss, let’s stick with this setting.
Parents, do I still have your attention? Can I ask you to appraise yourself? Can your child(ren) approach you with any and every topic or issue they need clarification on? Can your son, attaining the age of puberty tell you when he first experiences night emission or what is more commonly called wet dream? I know of a young man who had this experience and thought he was ill. Is your daughter aware of what menstruation is before she sees her first spot of blood? Some of you are snickering? You think it isn’t possible not to tell your daughter about her periods before or when she gets them? Ask that lady whose mom made a huge drama of her first period. As a secondary school student myself, I came across a girl, walking towards the female convenience, crying, blood flowing down her legs and other students staring at her. I walked up to her and asked what the problem was, she could not explain. She just knew she was bleeding ‘from under’ and was very certain she had not hurt herself. I was just in the third form myself. I took her into the toilet, helped her clean up and explained to her as much as I could, what she was experiencing. I later took her to the school nurse for a sanitary pad. I cannot even remember now who that girl is, but I hope her mother took over from there and properly explained things to her.
In all our career progress, in all the money we amass and stow for our children, are we attending to their emotional needs? Are we raising well rounded adults? I know of an adult, who has no relationship with his father, save the biological tie. The father so talked down at him, ridiculed him publicly and emotionally tortured him, all the while thinking he was pushing him to be a better man, to aim high and achieve more. Today, that man has a living, breathing father, but that’s as far as it goes. He does not know if he loves his father or not, he just knows the man is there. I want to believe such a father is not enjoying that situation either. I want to believe parents want the closeness of their children, their friendship. But, you see, they won’t just jump into this kind of relationship with you, you have to nurture it.
Do you consider your tone of voice with them? Do you consider their feeling when you make certain decisions and take a rigid and final stand on it? Do you know the impact comparing them with others have on them? Do you know how deeply it hurts them when you tell them how disappointed you are in them? I think you should know. Why? Because some of you experienced the same thing growing up. Some adults have no self esteem today because their parent(s) always talked down on them. You think calling a child an olodo (empty head) will make them sit up in class? No, it won’t. Let me tell you what it will do. You’re supposed to be the number one cheerleader of your child. When you drop the pompom and talk at or to them not with them, they believe they cannot do better. They become and feel defeated. Ever wondered why teams have cheerleaders? Find out. Even when they are underperforming, encourage them in love. This is not limited to children below the legal age alone. With the biting economic situation, we have adult children still living with their parents. You think they’re enjoying it? Instead of dangling it in their faces every day that they should have been out of your house, silence is a better response to their situation. You don’t have to say it sometimes, acting it out is as bad as saying it. Give them a comfortable environment to process their situation and chart a way forward. Don’t think for them, you did that when they were younger. Don’t take their experience from them and make it your own, it isn’t yours, it’s theirs, allow them own it.
This discussion will be completed in another post.
Images: Google
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