Overall best in Gifts and Curation
When one precious gift I was given was not giving at all
When I was 15 going on 16, I graduated from secondary school (the Nigerian high school equivalent.) As is the custom with many middle-class to high-income earning parents in Nigeria, graduation is a cause for celebrations, souvenirs, lots of rice and partying with loved ones. The thing is, my dad does not like parties but my mom enjoys planning them. You can already imagine what a strained mission this was. In hindsight, I see how much of an ungrateful little brat I was. But teenage me did not know. I just felt like the gift was not giving. C’est finir.
My parents had an interesting practice for us. They asked my siblings and me once we entered SS3 what we wanted for our graduation. Once, someone opted for a laptop. I can’t remember the details clearly but I think we had options between being thrown a party, getting souvenirs or a laptop (I don’t think getting it monetised was an option.)
Let me start from the beginning. I was born and raised in Bauchi, north-eastern Nigeria and it is not the most vibrant and active in terms of ‘city-related’ activities. The city is laid-back and quite normal, not fast-paced in the way most cities in northern Nigeria are. Unhurried and calm, with very few things happening, only a couple of options when it comes to quality services and because there’s little competition, there wasn’t a lot of drive for those service providers to scale. This was the genesis of our exodus. I’ll explain. My mom has really high taste. In everything, if you ask me. I think we got that from her. She’s quite boujee and when she wants something done in a certain way and she’s aware that that kind of quality exists somewhere in the world, she will do everything to find it and she will have it.
Jotters, mugs and gifts were common souvenirs in my school. I love to give gifts — I got that from my mom. I wanted my classmates, favourite teachers and friends to have something from me that reminded them of our relationship. This was how I told my parents I wanted jotters. If you know how Nigerian party souvenirs are done, just one/two picture(s) of the celebrant will be slapped on the front and back cover of the often misaligned jotter. Probably on the inside, you will have 150 lined pages or if you’re lucky, you get an inscription of the occasion at the bottom or at the top of the page. Sometimes, they even come with pictures in black and white. Just the regular jotters and that was what I expected my mother to do.
But guess what? She said ‘no, she was too cool for such’. Instead, my amazing mother went to Oasis Bookshop in Jos to buy some rare, precious journals that cost at least 1,500 each at that time. She ordered about 100 copies and then added some mugs for good measure. Everything came in about four boxes if I remember well. This was not small money. I always love to say my parents are not rich, they’re just sacrificial. I have never seen a pair more willing to deny themselves all kinds of luxuries and comfort for the sake of others. Even if the said others are ungrateful. I hope I become like them in this. In hindsight, I see how much of a sacrifice that was, because they to great lengths to make it real but I’m getting ahead of myself.
Let me start from the very beginning. One day, mid-morning around 10:15 AM, my mom came into my room and said I should get ready we were going to take pictures for my souvenir. Personally, I thought we would do those without pictures but alas, Dr mummy no gree for that method. As with every other teenager, once there is the statement “Let’s go out,” there is an unnamed series of “What will I wear?” But unlike other teenagers, I never squealed in delight at the thought of shopping or trying dresses. I had crippling fear and anxiety because I hated getting ready and dressed up for things (I’m getting better). I had this beautiful black and pink Senegalese-designed dress that I loved so much. It was a long dress shirt with a wrapper, but it made me feel both girly and grown up at the same time so I loved it. I took it and my mother said ina dankwalin ki? where’s your headtie? For context, I was on lowcut and my hair had a nice low fro going on I didn’t think I needed to tie but which northern mother will let me carry my head like a ball? Not mine, that’s who.
When my mom said we were going out, she saw to it that I wore that dress, a very almost invisible pair of stud earrings, my favourite bracelets and two veils to tie, one pink, one black. because I am in Bauchi after all. I hopped into mommy’s blue Toyota Corolla sitting in front with my brother at the back, as she drove in her usual style as though she was featuring in a part of The Fast and Furious franchise. We got to what was the best studio in Bauchi at that time and was eghgh, very underwhelming. The pictures didn’t look good so what did mummy do? She just called my dad and said we were going to Jos. Yes. From one state to the other for a photoshoot. In her defence, the rationale was that the journals were in Jos, they had better photographers and better printing quality.
Yeah, so in less than 90 minutes, we were in a different city, my mother was putting kajal (kohl) in my eyes to brighten them, powder on my face and I was applying lipgloss. Just saying that my mummy dey try. I wasn’t even a cooperative model — I was so nervous and self-conscious. Bending my hand like chickens’ feet sticking out of a Chinese pot.
This gist is long. But just know that my parents spent funds on making this graduation happen. Now here’s the main gist. They set out to travel to Yola for my graduation on the morning of the graduation. My sister and I were already in Yola, she was at my uncle’s, where rice was being cooked. Of course rice had to be made. With my mum commandeering? Definitely.
In my head, quality time with loved ones tops everything, and punctuality is proportional to love. Don’t judge me fa. To me, keeping to plans is a cardinal pointer to love. I don’t know how to explain it. I will try, however. I feel most loved and treasured when people I love keep to time and keep our plans going in a manner that was agreed. I absolutely abhor hurried interactions. Why should we be in a hurry to spend time with those we love? I like to savour it.
What I wanted for my graduation was to be with my family, to have them there as I was called up, to take photos with them and introduce them to my favourite teachers, and for all my friends to meet my mom. I wanted the journals to be given to everyone in my class in exchange, as I was also receiving their gifts. This, ladies and gentlemen, did not happen.
I woke up anxious that morning because my BlackBerry was dying in the heat of Yola and refusing to charge. This made communication difficult. By the time I got to my parents at about 7 am, they were parked in Gombe having breakfast. As my mum rattled off a list of friends and family who followed them, I could feel the tears well up in my eyes when the realisation that they were going to miss the event hit me. It could have been the hormones or cramps or just the overwhelming hurt that they were missing what I considered the most important thing because they chose to travel with extra guests who couldn’t travel like my family does (without food!) But I knew it was all for me so I swallowed my feelings.
I had quite a horrible day oscillating between worry and pain from menstrual cramps. I had made a mess of my chair at the graduation ground, and I had to go to my hostel to clean up. My friend Pwanedo went with me in this chaos. It was about 1 pm whenI got the news that my parents had arrived. I rushed to go meet them and I was so relieved to see them. Guess what? They came with a whole bus! My sister, cousins, and the whole family were there with the rice. It was a full house. I was trying to catch my breath, mentally readjust to this less-than-ideal way I planned to spend my day and hide from registering my displeasure when I was recruited to take pictures with guests I didn’t invite or want at the event. In between this, I heard that my class was already on stage singing our song, and I ran off. I was all over the place. Running to join them on stage, a weirdo with her gown billowing, late for the presentation, and quite embarrassed by the display, I came back, but emotions were high; I was overwhelmed, and I started crying. My dad was annoyed and embarrassed, my mom was confused, and everyone else was well, I don’t know what they were thinking.
To cut a long story short, I cried all the way from Yola to Gombe (about 4 hours trip then), and my cake came home with me, never cut. I didn’t take pictures with my friends; I didn’t get to give the souvenirs to the people I wanted, just whoever I saw around.
Now you might be there judging me for being a brat, but honestly, I didn’t quantify the sacrifices of my parents. I was more hurt that no one was listening to what I wanted but assuming for me. I didn’t want a crowd even though I can be a people person. I just wanted to be with my nuclear family. I didn’t want any drama of cake or rice; just the souvenir on time would have made a world of difference
I keep learning that love is a language and you must learn to listen to love well. It’s been many years and I have learnt how to curtail any excesses that might stop me from enjoying what I think is the most important part of anything I am doing. As an adult, I wonder what I’d do if I do all my parents did for me for my child and all they do is cry inconsolably for four hours. I fit fling am commot. Anyway, now, I hold that chaotic and painful memory close. It was a very imperfect day but it was a day spent together, albeit strained. It is the season of giving. Don’t give gifts people don’t want or at least will not treasure.
I find that a lot of times, we are as uncooperative as my teenage self when it comes to the gift God gives us. Because we are short-sighted, we only want what we want and cannot fathom His big dreams and thoughts, or perhaps, you’re like me, a person with a neurospicy brain that doesn’t take to abrupt change easily. I enjoin you to enjoy this Gift that keeps giving. The one that has been giving long before we knew of it or even dared to want it. Embrace the Gift of Christ, the giver of life and all the love in Him. I hope all your lofty dreams come alive in him.
Love, Ballie💖
PS. The most thoughtful gifts I’ve received in my human life were given to me by my family members at different points. And yes, my mom had another gift for me at home even after my bad behaviour. My mother gives the most thoughtful and sweet gifts. Parenting is a lifetime of joy, hurt, delight, heartache and everything in between. Sometimes, I wonder if this thankless job comes with an inbuilt resilience or if you just grow into it.
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