IF FATHER COULD LIVE AGAIN
PART 1
They say life is a revolving cycle that happens to every man in three stages. First, the morning stage where you're a baby- a child. Naive, inexperienced, filled and burning with desires to experience life- the way red wine fills and makes a man turn, and burn with passion for his lover. This is the M in man. Here, you're dependent- on parents and loved ones for survival.
Then you grow to become a youth - attaining the age of maturity. The stage where you begin to make decisions for and by yourself, and be responsible for their outcomes, and being in total control of your life. They call this stage the afternoon season of a man's life. The A in man.
But the sun doesn't shine forever. No, it doesn't. Slowly, it decreases in intensity and brightness till eventually it loses its light and breaks the dawn of darkness upon the earth- the time of day we call night. In a man's life, this is the period of old age, where you're like a baby once again, depending on people to see you through. You crave companionship more than before. You're not as strong as you used to be. You're dependent on people for survival. The only difference this time is that you're filled with wisdom from the life experiences you once desired much to have. This is the N in man.
The afternoon season of a man's life comes with many challenges, and navigating through these challenges of life may not, no, is not and will not be easy. But as we go on this journey, making both the good and bad decisions, we make our mistakes and we also learn from our experiences. Afterall, it's said that experience is the best teacher. But here's one thing I've found out. And it's that these experiences we learn from in life, they don't necessarily have to be our own.
And this is where my story begins.
PART 2
I looked forward to seeing Father again. The last time we'd seen was in 2019 when he came visiting home from his missionary journey in Ghana. He'd used just 10 days with us before he went back. You see, I've always had questions I wanted to ask Father but never did I have the courage to ask them. I always had this feeling of weirdness within me anytime I thought of sitting down with him to ask him these types of life questions. Not as if Father is a scary and authoritarian person that we couldn't stay around him, I just never trusted myself to be able to ask those questions and have such conversations with him.
However this time around, I'd determined I was going to make use of the opportunity to build and maybe deepen our relationship in a matured way. I was ready. I had my question bank. They were a lot, and I’d made up my mind that I was going to ask Father all of them beginning from the next day after I got home. This was my plan ( that didn't eventually work out how I'd thought it). I was ready or so I thought.
But then, it was the long break period in school. So I was going to be at home for the next two months, and this meant one thing: that I won't be getting any allowances. Thus, it was expedient for money to be made in order to keep body and soul together through the period, and as a young man. So, first, I headed to my sister's place to take up a job with one of her former contractors at a fair and reasonable charge for just two weeks before I headed for home.
The night I got home, there was no one in the house. The atmosphere in the parlor was humid, temperate, and deadly quiet. I dropped my bag on the floor, and sat on the long chair tired from the exhaustion of the day's travel. In the quietness of the room, I could hear my very breathing. After a while, I went to the kitchen to see what was available to eat. There was beans in the big pot. It was prepared by Father, I knew as I tasted it. And I found it amusing how I could still tell a meal that was prepared by Father even after all these years. He has this way of preparing meals that is quite different from mother's.
I walked to the parlor with a plate of beans in my hands, sat on the floor, and began to feed myself. I hadn't eaten much when Father and Mother walked into the house. They were coming from different places but met at the entrance of the compound. Excitedly, I stood up to greet them, taking turns to hug both of them. That night, we tried to some extent to catch up on life from everyone. It felt good being with family again, especially with Father after four years, and by the time we stood up to go to our rooms, it was well into the night.
Let's not forget the plan I had before I came home: to ask Father all my questions beginning from the next day after I got home. Well, I confessed earlier that I'd thought I was ready because all through the following day, I struggled within me to find the most perfect and natural way to begin asking him these questions without it seeming like an interrogation or interview. I struggled hard but just couldn't find how. Also, because like always, the thought of it made me feel weird, and I still felt inadequate. It wasn't until we finished eating dinner on the night of the third day after I got home, when Father casually asked for my age and opened the floor for these conversations to happen, that I was then able to start asking my questions.
You see, they say that ‘if you desire something so much and take steps in achieving it, the Universe and your Chi in turn begins to move and work things in your favor’. They are right. Because this was the Universe moving and working things in my favor just because I'd taken steps in achieving this quest by first of all gathering my questions, then going home to Father and Mother. Secondly, because the Universe in partnership with my Chi, understands the sort of person that I am: one that never wants to be perceived weak in whatever sense. And finally, They understood how much I was struggling on my inside despite the good job I was doing manning it on the outside. They, the Universe and my Chi, both understood.
So when Father asked me casually "Boluwatife, how old are you?” that night, and I answered him "21 in the next twenty-four days", he made a fake wow as if he were surprised to know, and repeated slowly after me "21 in the next twenty-four days" before he said, "You're a grown man now, Bolu. And I want to tell you something..." You see, that was it! When he asked that question. When he made that statement. I knew it was the Universe helping me! I knew it was my Chi helping me! I knew that they who made that saying were right.
Lesson 1:
Life isn't only and all about you, and it's selfish to think so. As you grow in life, you'll encounter people. And to think your life is the one with the best success or the worst tragedy story at any time is only the height of foolishness. A lot of things you don't know about are happening in the lives of people you, and like you, everybody is really going through a phase they're not talking about. So, it’s wise to treat people (both young and old) right and accordingly every time. Live in the moment you have with people you've met and you'll meet, make memories, and make them count. Let them know how much you love them, don't wait till later because you never can tell the last time you'll be with anyone. Build yourself communities of friends. And guess what! It all starts with you.
Father is not the best of talkers. I've known this about him a long time ago. However, that night, I realized that just like I did, he too had questions and many things he wanted to tell me. And so begining from that moment and in the days that followed, when we sat to talk (mostly after dinner), I noticed how he seemed to enjoy the activity. Maybe, he just loved how I asked him questions that brought back memories long lived to his mind again, and how I quietly listened to him.
As he finished talking, and confirmed that I understood what he'd just said, I took the chance to shoot my first question at him, asking gently “Father, if you could go back thirty years in time, what would you do differently?”. Father let out a soft sigh and went silent, throwing me into a well of total confusion that was laced with apprehension and doubt on whether or not I'd asked a reasonable question. Yet, I maintained my calm, waiting for a response since he hadn't said anything. Few moments later, he cleared his throat as he adjusted himself to sit up straight on the floor where he sat resting his back on one of the chairs. When he was done, he said, "one thing I'll do differently if I could go back thirty years in time is to aggressively increase and invest more in social capital than I've done” then he paused again, going silent for a few more moments before he confirmed what he'd just said. "Yes. I'll aggressively invest and increase my social capital more". And that's where we ended the discussion that night.
I didn't ask Father any questions or spoke about anything with him for the next three days that followed that night. I'd been spending most of the night talking with my friend on the phone.
So on the evening of the fourth day after that night, I decided to ask Father my second question. It had been just the two of us in the house throughout the day, but we'd spent the whole afternoon doing our separate things in our respective rooms. Now, this is who Father is. He likes to be left alone and detest being disturbed. In return, he doesn't disturb anyone else in the house except when he needs something.
That evening, Father sat in the parlor going through files belonging to his corporate work life before he went full-time into ministry. They were arranged neatly in different briefcases. I walked briskly into the parlor and sat on the longest chair watching him as he picked and looked at different files, and I observed how he did so with much grace and calm. Despite being older, many things if not everything hadn't changed about him, and this made me question for a moment the axiom that ‘life changes people’. He picked up a particular file, looked at it for a considerably longer period of time than he'd been doing then smiled before letting out a chuckle. This was a cue, I knew. I'd seen him do it over the years. He was about to say something from that time. An experience that tickled his memory.
In his usual self, he took a deep breath, squinted his eyes a little, and said softly but loud enough for me to hear "Dunamis...", and so, he began to tell me about Dunamis all over again despite him knowing that I already knew everything he was going to say. Maybe this time, with the exclusion of certain pieces. I've heard the story all my life yet he never gets tired of telling my siblings and I the story over again. A trait both he and his wife share in common.
First, he started with the story of how he came about creating the company. It was in 1994, three years before he married, and lost his job at where he worked then. He'd had it all sorted out. Afterwards, he talked about how he (and mother who was pregnant at that time) had faced challenges at the start of business three years later, especially with his new family, and how the birth of my sister changed the trajectory of his life and his wife. In his words, "that girl, Ateniola, o teni ola fún mi"- she laid the mat of wealth for me. Again, he told me the up and down stories of Dunamis till when he left business for ministry, and I just sat there listening to him.
I sat there listening to him even though we were in two different worlds that were far apart. Deep down within me, it was a festival of contentions because I was struggling to decide on whether or not to ask him, as he was talking, this question I had made up my mind in the morning to ask him later in the day if we got the chance to be together.
Father eventually dropped the Dunamis file and picked up another one. Again, he began telling me another story though I knew it too. Yet, I continued to listen to him, without stopping the contention that was going on inside me. Then, in an epiphany, as Father was telling me about these experiences, I realized something: the reason why he talked of these years, long lived, every time. I realized that right behind the talking is a yearning. A yearning for those years long gone. And telling the stories was the only possible way of living them and his life again.
Lesson 2:
You're gravely busy but it's all and only in your imagination. And that's why you feel you're wasting time when real life hits. The responsibility of life gets much as you advance through its phases. And with how heavy the pressure of being independent and to achieve is in the society we find ourselves in, we're prone to want to get excessively buried in work and activities which are likely to make us forget about true living. Don't fall for it. ‘Don't take too many roles’. Don't get too occupied with yourself and with/in work.
Create time to rest, spend time with friends and family, go for sports, travel the world. Do all you want to do now that you can because in the long run, you'll realize, as I did, that life is a really short time, and night comes- when you won't be able to do all these things again. Live life not just in your imaginations and dreams alone but in reality. So that when you tell your story, you'll have a well filled and enriching story to tell just like Father, who now doesn't have the luxury of time to do all these things as he did before. And simple because it does no good to dwell on dreams so much that you forget to really live.
It was already night when Father eventually finished checking all the files, and arranging them back into the briefcases. He asked that I return the briefcases to where they belong, and by the time I came back, he'd relapsed into his usual meditative mood: his mouth tilted to a corner, supporting his chin with his right hand while staring blankly at his front. I returned to the chair where I'd been and joined the festival of contention that was going on within me on whether or not I should ask him my question, and how best I was going to ask him. After going back and forth, I perched on my side balancing myself with my elbow and though I was anxious, I asked Father calmly, "Father, what were your specs for the woman you wanted to marry?", and first he chuckled, before lety out feebly, "spec? I didn't have a spec." He stopped talking, and continued to stare blankly at his front. I was about to speak when he continued, "Genesis 2 verses 13 was my spec..."
Lesson 3:
Some people say love is a feeling. Some say it is an act. The concept of love means different things to different people. To some, it's an emotion. Others say it's all that has to do with attention. And many believe that it is about sacrifice. Love is different things to different people. But whatever it may be to you, here's a truth: when you begin to fall in love, you'll know.
PART 3
It was time for me to return to my school. I'd spent a month and eight days at home. Discussing nights upon nights with Father and Mother. Now, it was time to return to where I'd come from. On the day I was leaving, as I packed my bags, Father sat in his favorite single seater chair in the parlor watching the sensational epic yoruba fiction movie Jagun Jagun on his phone while Mother did her laundry somewhere in the compound. When I was finally done and I had dressed up to leave, Father dropped his phone and said words of prayer over me as is his custom. As we finished, I leaned into him to hug him, and told him I'll miss him. He was going to say something but instead he sniffed and heaved hard. At that moment, a thought came floating into my head but I quickly shook it off. God forbid!
Still locked in his embrace, and making my voice to induce his pity, I asked him for one of his bishopric necklaces. He had two of them, and I was asking for the smaller one. The cross shaped black bishopric made from real cedar woods and lined at the center with golden steel. It had been the one thing I'd kept asking him for since the day I got home but he'd kept refusing me.
Father laughed. "No. I can't give you" he said again, gently and firmly as he'd be saying. "The bishopric you see is a representation of spiritual status. And it's suicidal to wear a representation of a spiritual status that you've not yet attained". I sat to listen to what father had to say, and spent the next hour that followed doing so. It was only when Mother called my name from where she was in the compound to remind me of the time that Father rounded up his talk by saying, "Boluwatife, attain the level where I can wear on you that bishopric you desire. The level of stature and true power”. I was silent for a while pondering on what Father had just said. After a while, I asked “and how does one attain stature and true power in this kingdom?”
“In this kingdom, we attain by following and pressing. Philippians 3:10-24". Father answered, and let out a soft chortle.
Lesson 4:
Love and serve God wholeheartedly. Pray as your father has taught you to, and get to weigh in the spirit. The truth is, God is more than willing to help us if we'll ask him in prayer. He is so willing to reveal himself to us if we seek him. And if you'll give yourselves to him, he'll take you on an adventure of revelation with him.
Father decided to see me off to where I'd start my journey of returning. He helped me carry the ghana-must-go I'd packed my extra loads in while I carried my backpack that was twice as heavy as the one he carried. As we walked in the streets to the junction, we kept on greeting people. However, when we came to a more clear coast. Father started talking, breaking the silence between us.
"In Game of thrones, what's his name? Is it Lord Ty- something". I was surprised for all the obvious reasons to hear Father talk of Game Of Thrones. Any other show would have passed for it but Game Of Thrones, and it bothered me to know how much he knew. "Lord Tywin? Tywin Lannister." I helped him. "Yes! Ty-win Lan-nis-ter" he exclaimed, stressing the name. "You've watched the movie?" He asked. "The show" I corrected him, nodding to his question. He continued, "that man told his grandson something very profound when he became king at a very tender age, and I've kept it with me since when I watched the movie. He said, “A good king's most important quality is not holiness, not justice, not strength, but wisdom. A wise king knows what he knows, and what he doesn't. You're young. And a wise young king listens to his counselors' advice until he comes of age. And the wisest of kings continue to listen to them long afterwards ".
I know this part Father spoke about in the series. It was when Tomland succeeded his brother, Joffrrey, as king of Kings Landing and the Seven kingdoms. But had I been shocked moments ago when Father mentioned Game of thrones, then I must have let down my guard for what was coming because he had just quoted Lord Tywin Lannister verbatim without looking in a book, and he caught me right in my surprise. So he laughed and I couldn't help but to join him in it.
We stopped laughing when we got to the main road, and crossed to the other side to stop a bike going to the garage. As we waited, Father said, his voice very straight and serious,
Lesson 5:
"I've survived this life by standing on the grounds of discipline, counsel, obedience, and power, Boluwatife. And I've told you all these things so that you can learn from me. For your own good, heed to everything I've told you. It's how great men are made. Don't wait for yourself to learn ‘life’ through your own mistakes. Listen and learn life now. So you don't make the same mistakes I've made, and learn the hard way."
I was about to respond when a bike stopped in front of us. However, Father continued. “That your question, If I could go back thirty years in time to be at your age again, I took out time to think about it very well, and really I don't think I'll do any of the good things differently. I'll live life again how I'd lived it, and this time far better and in its fullness...", he said finally. I turned and hugged him for the last time, and the thought I'd had a few moments ago in our parlor floated into my mind again that 'What if this is the last time I'd ever see father again?', but like I did before, I closed my eyes and shook it out. God forbid!
I waved Father goodbye finally as I climbed onto the bike, and the driver set into motion. As we departed, I looked back and saw him crossing the road to go meet Mother at home. He looked fragile and tender as he walked across the road, and my heart sank knowing that I won't be seeing him or Mother for another while. I knew I'll miss them, and it seemed hard to bear. At that moment, the thought came again for the third time, and it was stronger than the first two times it had come, that 'what if this is the last time I'd ever see Father again?’’, and despite how much I tried to get it out, it lingered in my head.
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It has been five months since, and just like that day, the thought still lives in my head. Alive, well, and strong just like the day it was conceived. What if that was the last time I'd ever see father again? And up till now, I don't seem to have an answer to it.
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