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a olayode juliana baby true story 1 rebirth by life toyo episode

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Rebirth _ A True Life Story By Olayode Juliana (toyo Baby)_episode 1
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#1




Growing up, for me, was fun until my dad and
mum separated. It was on a Saturday morning. We woke up to an argument between
them and it was the first time my siblings and I would ever hear them raise their voices
that way; we were confused. Before long, my dad started throwing my mum’s things out
of the house. She tried to stop him, but he was stronger than her. At that time, we lived in a two-room apartment
and we had neighbours. The neighbours were fascinated at the rancour they
saw because they knew my dad to be a jovial and playful man. My dad had the ability to
chatter away with absolute strangers. My mum was also in the good books of neighbours
because she was generous, especially with the bachelors and spinsters in the
compound; she would almost always prepare a
lot of food, having the neighbours in mind. So, this
development was a surprise to many. When the neighbours arrived the scene, they
inquired of my mum what the problem was but she was already sobbing and
could barely speak. My siblings and I could not explain either as we were just as shocked.
Some well-meaning men among them took my dad to a secluded area and spoke with him. I
do not know what they talked about, but I heard my dad say, sternly, “she must go!”.
He was shouting. I had lived with my dad long enough to know that
when he made up his mind on something, no one and nothing could make him
change his mind. The question that then lingered in my mind was, ‘what did my mum do
to deserve such shame?’ I really wondered why he wanted her out of the house
all of a sudden. The day before, I still saw them eating and
laughing together. He told his usual jokes; we all laughed and went to bed in peace. I
was baffled at the sharp contrast and wondered what could have gone wrong between
the time they retired to bed and the time we awoke to the drama. My siblings and I watched as my mum struggled
to get her things back into the house, tears streaming down her face. My dad
had warned us, his children, not to come close to him or plead for our mum but we could
not obey that. The six of us went to him on our knees and we latched onto his legs,
begging him. He was definitely angry, as
heturned deaf eyes to our pleas and blind eyes to
our tears. He was a jovial man on a good day, but also a disciplinarian. The moment he
ordered us out of his sight, we knew better than to stay. I saw the pain in my mum’s eyes. She did not
want to leave. What woman would want to leave her six children and the husband of
her youth? She put her things together at the foot of the door. She signalled me to come.
At this time, my dad had gone inside. She told me she would be back. She wanted to go
see some people that were close to my dad; people she hoped he would listen to. After
she left, I relayed the message to my sisters and we all started crying again. My dad locked himself in his room. I went to his
door, in the evening, and tried it. It bulged. So, I figured it was either he later
unlocked it or we just assumed all along that it was locked. I went in and saw my dad sitting on
the bed, shaking his legs. He only did that when extremely upset. I did not care that he was
angry, I went over to him and rested against him, my head on his chest. His heart was
beating really fast. He did not say a word to me. My dad always had a soft spot for me; we were
close. In those days, when he wanted to submit a quotation for a job, he would tell my
mum to pray over it. After my mum had prayed, he would bring it to me to do same. He
believed in my prayers. I would say I was my dad’s second wife. Whenever he wanted to visit his friends, then, he
would take me along. He did that not only because he enjoyed my company, but
also because he took pleasure in hearing the comments his friends passed, praising him for
having a beautiful daughter. I am the only fair-complexioned child of my parents and
people called me Oyinbo. I was not only fair but had long black hair. On different occasions, my dad would have my
mum wear a ready-made flowery dress for me and any of my elder sisters
available would pack my hair into two with ribbons my dad bought. On our many trips,
people would stop us and say nice things. Whilst I was blushing, my dad would usually say,
“na my pikin o”.The next question, usually,
was “why she con yellow like this and you con
black?” and my dad would say, “na God o”. He took
delight in explaining that to any and everyone who stopped us on our way to his
friends’ houses. Some of the admirers gave me money, some bought things for me, and for
the female admirers, they took turns touching my hair. There were many occasions too when I stayed
up late with my mum, waiting for him to return home from work. He would ask why I
was awake and I would tell him I wanted to see him before going to bed. A big smile would
brighten his face, he would carry me and say “oyinbo mi”. I loved the sound of that
and I would chuckle when he called me that. And sometimes, I was privileged to eat with
him, whenever mum allowed. I slept off on my dad’s chest countless times
after playing with his hairy chest and pot belly. I remember times when I put my ear to
his belly, saying I wanted to hear how his food got digested. The moment his stomach
rumbled, I would laugh so hard and tease him. My dad and I were that close. As I put my head on his chest that evening, I did
not know what to say. I did not know if it was in my place to ask what happened.
I remained silent for a while until I summoned enough courage to speak, hoping he
would not get upset and send me out. I asked him if he would let my mum stay and stop
being upset with her. His response was positive. Maybe he did that to stop me from
crying because things were different the next day. When my mum returned the next day, with some
of my dad’s friends and some church members, they pleaded with him but he
would not listen. I got angry at him for deceiving me. I went to him and reminded him of
what he told me the night before. He told me to leave him alone. I was really upset. I
trusted him and believed his words; he had been convincing. My mum left and came back with her friends.
They all knelt before him. So did my siblings and I. That did not change anything. My
mum went to his elder brothers’ houses and they came home with her to beg, but he
insisted she must leave.The saddest thing was
we did not know why he was insisting and my
mum was not saying why either. Whenever people came to
beg, they would ask the children to excuse them at the point of discussion. They only called
us back at the point when they wanted to beg again. So, we were left in the dark as to
the cause of the whole problem. The day I saw my grandmother show up at the
house, with her sister, to beg my dad, I was so sure it was over and he would not be
able to say no. I got the shock of my life when I heard that did not work too. My mum then
called us and made us see she was doing her best not to leave us. I could tell she was
bottling up a lot inside. She did not want to leave her husband and she definitely did
not want to leave us. She was in a state of despair as she sobbed bitterly. It was over. She promised to check on us from time to time.
We asked her where she would go and she said she did not know. She said she could
not go back to her mother’s house as tradition did not permit that. More so, she was the
first child of her mother and her younger siblings were doing well in their own
marriages. She could not stomach the shame of going back. My mum blessed us, hugged us one after the
other, and left. It was a very sober evening. The reality just dawn on us that mummy
would no longer live with us. My parents were separated. The atmosphere at home changed when mum
left. Dad remained in the room whenever he returned from work. No laughter.
No smiles. The house became lifeless. Everyone wore a straight face, minding their own
business. We were all upset with my dad. I even overheard one of my sisters telling a
friend who had come visiting that she would never forgive my dad. Dad became a chef. He started cooking for us. His
food was definitely not as tasty as mum’s. My dad never cut down on ingredients,
so there were always many things to chew on. He did not do that for too long. My elder sister,
Adetutu, took over. She and my immediate elder sister, Bose, took turns cooking. My two immediate elder sisters took mum’s
position. They would wake my youngestbrother
and I very early in the morning, prepare
breakfast and make sure we were dressed for school before 7am every day. If not
that I would go to school and cry about my mum, it was not obvious otherwise that my
mum was not around. My mum raised my sisters well. Let me mention here that the first two children,
my eldest sisters, rebelled against my dad and he sent them out of the house to live
with grandma, reason for just four children with my dad at the time. My mum showed up in the house one afternoon
and we were so happy. She wanted to know how well we were doing. She went
through our school books, inspected our nails and checked our clothes. She asked if my dad had
said anything about her and we answered her in the negative. She stayed a while. My younger brother and I
were on her laps all through her visit. She prayed for us and gave my sisters
instructions on what to do. She gave us a curfew
of 6pm and insisted dinner should be eaten by 7pm.
She told them to make sure dad’s food was well preserved. She simply performed her motherly duties and as
she did this, her eyes filled up. She tried to stop the tears, but she had obviously
reached her breaking point. She broke down in tears and we all joined her. In tears, she told us, speaking in our Yoruba
dialect, not to act like children who do not have.


#2
Hmmmmm


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