LAGOS, Nigeria(VOICE OF NAIJA)-Forgive me if this piece comes out as judgemental or opinionated, but please hear me out. I only speak from the little I’ve seen.
I want to talk about children. Children born into adversity, children born to parents living in a state of surprise, children whose parents left too soon. All the children who have no-one.
Omo! E get as this life be. I’m a firm believer in God and on that ground I believe “life balance” based on the times and seasons lesson I was taught during Sunday school but, Who will take care of them?
I see beautiful children born into poverty. In some cases, their parents become life-givers first, dedicating themselves to nurture them into “becoming”, on the other side of the coin I hear the ones that say “It is God who gives children”.
But, who will take care of them, who will help them become, who will teach them how to till they land and point them in the direction of the tools-shed.
Animals do it for their young—teaching. But who will do it for the human babies born without pathfinders?
You see those ones born to parents whose trust is in thrusting, they too make me wonder. Parents stuck in the purgatory of surprise and “what ifs”. They only wanted to thrust and now they have a baby, then another one comes and sometimes another.
They are stuck, how did this happen! It sometimes gets worse when they are married.
Some of them adjust like many of our parents before us— take up the responsibility and pay the bride price or “do something for the woman head”. They bench their dreams for ours and hope for a future where we fulfill their backup dream.
For others, it’s rocket science. They are floating in the clouds— how does a floater teach the necessary art of staying grounded?
READ ALSO:OPINION: Nigerian Children at Risk from Junk Food Marketing
These children become their own teachers, learning life as it comes. Taking the longer route to becoming. As life kuku balance sometimes the cards fall in their favor, other times they lose the gamble they did not “hand”.
For the children whose parents left too soon, my hearts beats to the rhythm of soul music when I think of their plight. They carry with them this sadness throughout their lives. Yes they laugh and wear a smile, even meet good people on their journey but the sadness, it is one with their shadow— it never leaves.
There are children who have never felt the love of parents (annoying parents that we still love). Whether it’s one parent or both, the pain is there.
Allow me bring in another thought. Don’t you dare think me a rambling writer.
What about those ones whose parents are here but not there? Not there in anyway. I’ve seen parents pass their children around relatives and friends cos they’ve been kept a secret from their new partners or their significant other want nothing to do with that life.
This piece is not to judge them, I want to believe they have their reasons. But, one thing I’m sure of is 8 out of ten apologize for their acts before they die.
Who will take care of them? Who will care for the ones whose life decisions, born out of pain, neglect, adversity, led them to the streets of “too late”. I don’t even want to mention the different ills that befell them.
Even the lucky ones who made it out, did they leave with their sanity intact? I see some of them overcompensating. Do they have less pain? Who took care of them?
Allow me to deviate again, I have another observation. I see single parents, yes I see them. We see what we want to, but when we look, we really see what is there and I’ve seen—to an extent.
I’ve seen some single parents stuck between loving their children and wanting to live again. Forgive my thought flow but please hear me out.
They love their children but they are still young and crave the recklessness of socializing. How do they do that without destabilizing the routine? Caregivers—maybe family, kind neighbors, nannies, boarding school or whatever fulfills the mission at that time.
If you perceive me as thoughtless, I’m sorry, still my main point is, Who will care for the children?
True, some caregivers will give love to their charge but is it like a parent’s love?Children get attached no matter how cruel you treat them. They are innocent and would love you regardless until life initiates them into reality— then some of them throw love away.
How about the children born to the women in the shadows? In particular, the floaters.
Look around you and see, many of these children are given to caregivers while their mothers keep the hustle alive. I’m not judging them, they have their reasons, but who will care for their children?
When I say care, I mean loving, nurturing, knowing, being present. You can be there without being present. Who will care for those children brought into this world without their permission and then left on their own to navigate this complicated life that even Methuselah never figured out?
READ ALSO:Report: 700,000 Nigerian Children To Die Due To Acute Hunger
It’s not just by feeding them fat, dressing them up, paying school fees, buying them toys, and doing whatever it is that makes them think they know what happiness is. I know there is more to raising a child than all that.
Knowing them,
Knowing who they are,
Knowing what they need to become,
Knowing how to guide them to become,
Knowing you did your best raising a human who carries a part of you,
Knowing your seed and watching it bloom.
I feel it’s not blood that makes one a parent. In my opinion, a true parent is one who is intentional about nurturing life, even when yours suffered deficiency.
To be intentional is to love unconditionally. Blood has nothing to do with it. Maybe I don’t understand the wisdom behind the saying “blood is thicker than water”, life has shown me and I have seen that sometimes water is denser than blood.
The water from the sweat that signifies our struggles,
Clinking our glasses to honor our collective sorrows and joys,
The cup that we share,
The chalice that tastes the unspoken words on our lips.
If I’m to liken their lives to a mirror, I’ll say some of them are so cracked they do not even recognize love when it looks back at them. The mirror is broken and put together like a million piece jigsaw puzzle with a 77 thousand x 7 missing pieces.
This is not a callout. It’s not an answer. It’s just a cry from the heart—wondering, observing, remembering. May it reach someone who sees, and may we all learn to care more intentionally.
I’ll just stop here cos I really don’t know what I’m saying, I’m just thinking out loud.
