Nurturing
I needed to be sure what nurturing meant so I googled it. My favourite meaning was “to take care of, feed, protect …. especially during the period of training or development”. I wouldn’t want to recommend the type of training and development I got as a child because it left me a little handicapped. It goes without saying that we are products of our “school of nurturing”. It forms us without our ever realising it. It makes the difference between succeeding and failing in life. I didn’t realise this great fact until much later, after suffering many years of frustrations and misery. It all started with the kind heartedness of my father.
My father was born into a royal family but lost his mother very early in life. When the missionaries arrived in his village and needed the king to lead by example in educating his children, my father got taken. He had no one to fight for him. Growing up with almost nothing made him resolve that his children would not face what he had to face. He would make life easier for them. He provided all we could ever have wanted. We had drivers, a cook, a house cleaner, a nanny, a gardener and laundry man. We never had to lift a finger. I guess my parent’s intentions were good but the outcome was catastrophic. It nearly crippled us for life.
I couldn’t wash my clothes in secondary school. At home Michael would always wash, iron and deliver the clothes to our rooms. The cook would prepare all the meals, set the table and call us to eat. He would later clear up and wash up. This happened everyday of my growing life until the rubber hit the road (after my dad passed away). In secondary school, I realised I didn’t know how to wash my clothes. I would use one packet of washing powder (omo) every Saturday to wash a handful of uniforms. The ones I couldn’t wash I threw down the pit latrine. I hated the early years of secondary school. I cried alot and wanted to go back home but my mum wouldn’t hear of it. I however had my dad wrapped around my little finger. When my mum was away in the UK, I persuaded him to make me a day student. It only lasted one year, until my mum came back and I got returned to the dormitory.
After I left home for my NYSC, I got the shock of my life. I found out I really couldn’t cook. I didn’t even know I had to “pick” the beans before cooking. I once remember preparing a delicacy ( jollof rice and beans) in expectation of a friend. My heart was in my mouth after serving him because the food was quite sandy. I guess God must have been on my side because he didn’t grind on any stones, or maybe he was just being polite. During that year, I also learnt for the very first time that a wife was meant to take care of the family laundry, her husband’s inclusive. I didn’t know that. We had always had Michael who did the laundry. I don’t remember my mum ever washing anything. She never washed and she never made me wash. I loved it.
Fast forward to 1993 when I married my NYSC sweetheart who was from a different part of Nigeria. The Poet says “East is East and West is West and ne’er the twain shall meet”, not so. From the wedding day in Church, we saw the difference between the two families. As soon as we were pronounced man and wife, our in-laws stood up and started hugging and kissing IN CHURCH. We, the reserved Jos people just sat back and watched in shock, my family especially. We don’t hug and kiss. In all my life I don’t think my mum has ever hugged me and said I love you. To be honest, I haven’t missed it either. It’s true, you don’t miss what you don’t know. I would probably have died of emberassment if she did anyway. I’m still learning to say I love you to my children. More times than not, I forget. My husband on the other side is always hugging them and saying he loves them. He has evidently been nurtured that way.
After the wedding, I moved to Warri where my husband comes from. In the heat and humidity of of the day, I would always offer a cup of tea to my guests. That was what we did in Jos and I didn’t know any better. It never occurred to me why no one ever accepted my offer. One day however my husband’s cousin in exasperation said “shuoooo, Kevwe this your wife na real oyibo ooo. Tea for dis hot sun……..!!” I got the message.
Even in the UK, the hugging culture has been a huge challenge for me. When is it okay to hug? Most importantly, when is it not okay to hug? How many times do you kiss the cheek? once, twice? Which side do you go first? There should be a UK guide book for first time hugging. I stiĺl shamefully remember an experience I had a few months after we arrived in the UK. I went to visit Ify my long lost school friend. That day, her work colleagues visited, a couple. She hugged them excitedly and then introduced me. I also reached out and hugged them. Yes, first day of meeting and I hugged them. I thought they seemed rather stiff and unfriendly. I only realised my gaff about a year later. To be honest, I don’t really like hugging people except my family, it’s all too confusing.
