Inspired by one of my favorite bloggers LondonBuki, this is my sixth Mummy Sunday post!!! This one is dedicated to those questions that we want to ask but never will.
Mommy… Who’s Uncle
In my first memories of my dad, I was 4 or 5. I tried to draw really pretty pictures of myself cos I figured if he saw how pretty I was he’d come back. Remember I used to suck my thumb then and pull out my hair so you had them shave it all off? Well… in the pictures I drew myself with long hair cos I knew no father wanted a daughter with short hair and the left side of her head with little ‘hair patches’. I drew myself white… everybody in school loved Emily… everybody in our class, our teachers and she had a dad that came to pick her up from school everyday… so I drew myself white… I smiled and looked like Emily in those drawings.
I remember the crazy Jamaican woman near my school… opposite the butcher’s place. She was always cursing out at us and whenever we crossed the street… she did too. I think she made you cry once too. I guess it’s cos she knew I didn’t have a dad… or at least that mine didn’t want to see me.
I also remember the dreadlocked Jamaican man that was there the night we moved into some new apartment. It was really cold. You were crying, we slept on the carpet and I just remember a dog barking and me being really sad seeing your tears. I was scared of Jamaicans for a long time… its funny cos now that I think about it I realize that he was probably the past occupant of the house and was handing you the keys or something
I was 6 and I remember when I really started feeling bad about not having a father. I mean I loved you but I just wished that at least once my dad would come and get me from school… so Emily and the other girls could see that I had one. They started teasing me a lot at school you know. I could take it I thought to myself… I really tried to act like I didn’t care Mommy but I really did.
I remember the final straw. I decided I could not stand it anymore. My dad kept sending letters but he just wouldn’t come and see us. I wanted to go see him instead. You tried to talk me out of it… but I knew I just had to be with him. I couldn’t want to go to the amusement parks with him, climb on his back and bring him back to Lewisham… cos then everybody’d get to see my own personal Daddy. I knew he’d be tall and handsome and nice and give me lots of chocolate and tuck me in and read me bedtime stories and buy me fish and chips everyday and buy me pink socks and carry me everywhere and give me 7 barbie dolls and tickle me and… and… spin me round and round and give me piggy back rides and… and… take me everywhere and… and…and… BE MY DADDY
Plus you’d stop crying too mommy
I stopped eating cos you didn’t want to take me to go see my daddy. After a while you promised me we would and I believed cos you never lied to me. I remember when we were packing to leave. I was so excited. I took all my pretty clothes from my white closet and I wrote ‘sex’ all over my drawing books in red lipstick cos Aaron told me it was a cool word.
One distinct memory I have is after having packed up, right before we stepped out of our house on Lewisham into the ‘netherworlds’, you told me not to tell daddy anything about ‘Uncle Israel’
I don’t remember much else but I remember walking down from the airplane… we’d arrived in
We walked around and around… next thing I knew you were hugging this tall, huge man.
I remember this like it was yesterday.
I remember thinking that I didn’t approve of you hugging this man because when my Daddy came he was going to be mad about it.
Then you told me he was my dad.
I just remember a huge sense of letdown… this was HIM?!?!
You were excited… so I became excited… I mean he was tall and handsome… but… but…
I hugged him and he lifted me up… but… but…
He drove us home and on the way stopped at the domino’s convenience store.
He got us candy and chocolate and juice… but… but…
We got home and he showed us around the house… it was ugly… I didn’t like it… but you were excited… so I was excited
Then he told us to go and have a siesta
We just got back to
My younger sister didn’t care… she told him she didn’t want to but he enforced it
Remember when she told him to give her the number for the cops so she can report him for trying to make her do something she didn’t want to?
He forced us… I looked into his eyes and he seemed cruel. We went to bed immediately
I still remember the conversation I had with my sister that day on your bed trying to have our ‘siesta’
“I don’t like him Overwhelmed… I hate him”
“Me too sis… me too”
I tried to change my opinion about him… sometimes I was successful and some other times I wasn’t
I remember the day he made you cry in
Your parents were over, it was Easter… I remember cos they were playing Jesus Crucifixion movies on the telly.
You guys were all in the living room and next thing I knew… you were crying
I asked him why and he said it was because you lost your 20 Naira.
I knew he was a liar then and I liked him even less…
HE MADE YOU CRY… AND A LITTLE WHILE LATER, HE MADE YOU LEAVE US!!!
I think I know all there is to know… or at least all that I need to know
Mommy, the only question I have left is… Who’s Uncle
Your First Daughter
Overwhelmed Naija Babe