Today, a day after our argument, my dad came into my room to ask me about the song I promised to download for him. The one I have blatantly refused to help him download… He asked why I do not want to help him download it, and why I do not respect him. To be honest I’m not in the mood at all. After my encounter with him last night I’m so upset. Today I kept thinking about all the hate I had buried… All the anger I had to let go of for peace to reign… My dad is a staunch catholic. He keeps talking about how holy and how close to God he is. Every time, he reminds me God is angry with me. Either because I refused to attend morning mass, or because I refused to join in the night prayers, or because I refused to attend legion meeting. One time he kept telling me I’m the cause of all his problems. Because of me and the money he spent in sending me to school abroad, he’s now broke. And I’m the cause. He tells me this whenever I refuse to give him any money. Either money for food, or money for my siblings, or when I refuse to pay my part of the rent. A year after I travelled to school in Germany, my father lost his job. He sponsored the rest of my three years there using his savings, and loans. After I came back and started my youth service, I started assisting in paying bills and rent. Though sometimes, I’ll get frustrated and refuse to pay. At some point, I thought of running away, but because I had nowhere to run to, I just stayed back. After all, paying just quarter of the rent here is better than paying a full rent in another apartment. I definitely cannot afford it. That day, while sitting on my sister’s bed, he told me that he gave me food for many years. If he had decided to not feed me, or to leave me in the hospital to die, I wouldn’t even be here. “After everything I have done for you, it is your obligation to take care of me now” he added. I responded with anger! The bitterness in my throat could cure fever; “You’re not doing anything for me! Did you send me to do my masters? Do you buy my clothes? Did you buy my phone? How come I contribute to the house rent? So don’t even tell me anything about obligations and rights. You keep talking about how you suffered for me and how I don’t want to contribute, how much am I earning?” Omg I was angry. Does he expect me to borrow money? I know how many times my mom borrows on his behalf and he never pays her back. He’s so selfish and inconsiderate. I know how many times he hits her if she tries to speak up or act stubborn.
My father couldn’t believe his ears. He fed Ezinne for 21 years, she lacked nothing. And he made sure of it. She was the sharpest of all his kids, she was proud too, but he never noticed it had gotten so bad. Ever since he lost his job he has become a laughing stock, to the point that his daughter now had the guts to list out all the things he couldn’t do. The height of ingratitude. He took her to Germany to study! He bought her everything she needed. If he could, he definitely would have sent her to the best school to do her masters and PhD. So what was this she was ranting about? Has she forgotten so soon? This is the height of ingratitude. They say he is impatient but even a saint could have smacked her raving tongue to order. And to God, he felt like doing same,
“Anyway”, my father continued, “what about my Chiquitita? When are you downloading it?” He asked, a distant look on his face. “Until you ask politely, I’m not downloading anything” I answered. I told him he always thinks his being my father gives him the right to insult or disrespect me. That being a father does not cancel his obligation to be respectful even to his children. You can’t just walk into my room and wake me up from sleep and keep saying derogatory things. It’s not done. How can I be insulted all the time in my own house? At that he asked “your own house?” “Yes it’s my house. As long as I pay the rent it’s my house”. “You need prayers. How would you feel if your own child was saying these things to you?” He asked, surprised. I replied” If my child said these things, I’ll work towards adjusting my behavior. And I’ll be happy my child is bold enough to tell me how she feels. Besides, my children wouldn’t say these things because I’ll respect them and not abuse them”. Easier said than done baby! Papa thought. He also had a perfect picture when he was newly wedded. He wanted to raise his kids the perfect way, but no matter how hard he tried he remained human, not just human, but a human with a million flaws. No matter how much he tried, here he was sitting face-to-face with his daughter while she lambasted him with insults. She reminds him so much of him when he was younger. He and Ezinne had the same stubborn and conceited spirit.
“Stop hiding under the excuse of old age making you less patient or considerate” she continued, ”grandpa is far older and he treats us better, with respect. Well, papa admires grandpa for that too, but then no two persons can be the same. Papa is not grandpa; father thought. Ezinne continued. “But you’re far younger yet you behave like you’re 80.”Other ladies usually cry when leaving home for their husband’s house after the wedding ceremony… But me, lol I’ll rejoice the day I’m leaving”. Ezinne told him with a smirk. She continued; “Even at the age of five I was already thinking of running away from home. My classmates prayed for holidays, they prayed for weekends so they could go home to their parents. But me, I prayed for school so I could leave home. And you don’t even feel anyhow.” Yes I’m horribly harsh but I really wanted him to know how angry I felt. He needed to understand the bitterness I had tucked in since I was a child. This was the only way to make him understand how horribly his behaviour affected me. Papa still has the distant look. It seemed like each statement left him roaming a different land. Papa was sort of ashamed. How come he never noticed his daughter feeling this way? She wanted to run away, why? I gave her everything she wanted. She attended the best schools. So why?
I really butchered his weak heart with strong words. I told him that he always acted like a tiger, beating anyone at the slightest things, yet his kids made horrible mistakes under his tiger gaze. I told him I love my mother and my siblings but I don’t like him. Maybe after I’ve left the house and I no longer have to see his bad attitude I’ll learn to like him, because I’ll forget how he is with time. But now, I don’t even care about him. I hate my father. I hate his dictatorial attitude. I hate the way he shouts at mama and beats her. I hate the way he makes every other person feel inferior to him. I hate that I lost my virginity to his brother at age ten and nobody noticed. Till date no one knows. I hate this house. The atmosphere here is suffocating. Chinaza’s house is finer, neater, and calmer. Everyone speaks openly. They laugh and crack jokes. But my house is nothing like that. It’s a military zone with everyone walking on the tip of their toes. Because of his tiger attitude, mama has now withdrawn into an invisible shell. She hardly comes out, and speaks only when spoken to. She is tired obviously. No matter how scattered or dirty the house is, she never seems to notice.
Papa was quiet for a long time. An uncomfortable silence which left me feeling remorseful for my harsh words. He looked withdrawn and dejected. I’m afraid that he’ll stand up and hit me but he just sighed. He quietly asked again for his song Chiquita by Abba. Again, I quietly refused “I’m not helping you” I replied. But he asked again, “Just help me download the Chiquitita tomorrow. Hope you know the one” This time I couldn’t refuse, I decided to let sleeping dogs lie. “Okay, I’ll help you download it”. He was so quiet I thought I was too harsh and hoped I didn’t make him think too much.
This morning mama approached me asking what I said to my father last night, “I just said I wouldn’t miss him when I get married, and that he should stop his bad attitude”. “Better be careful about the things you say to him” She replied. “He said from what he understands, you want to leave the Catholic Church. You want to start going to Ola’s church. You want to become a Pentecostal”. I responded; “ha! I’m confused, what has catholic and non-Catholic got to do with this? Yes Ola is Pentecostal but I do not have plans of changing my church. I never told papa such nonsense!” I said, glaring. Another thing with my dad is that when he sees you really happy about something, he begins to suspect you. He begins to think that you’re definitely doing something wrong. He suspects I’m leaving the Catholic Church because of how happily I told him I couldn’t wait to leave the house for him after my wedding with Ola. Mama continued; “your father said he doesn’t want to see Ola again in this house” ha! Something wey don spoil, don spoil finish, nothing wey you fit do to fix am. I concluded my dad and his issues are permanent. His paranoia, and tiger-attitude cannot be changed.
I really cannot wait to get married and leave this house. The many times I was depressed was either because I needed a job, or because I needed a house to run away to. This my house would only make a person like me go crazy. The house is even so dirty. It’s so dirty yet no one notices. If you clean it now, in two hours it becomes horribly dirty. That culture of cleanliness isn’t there at all. Mama thinks she has flushed properly even though the water in the toilet is still dark brown. My big brother leaves the entire bathroom soaked in water after bathing and doesn’t think about mopping it. My dad doesn’t see any difference between neat and dirty. No matter how wet or dirty the bathroom floor is, he goes in barefoot. Even when the toilet isn’t properly flushed, he uses it either ways and afterwards, he bounces out; either because he forgets to flush, or because he expects his wife to flush on his behalf. My little brother would wash the plates and pots but leave the sink still stained with oil, charcoal, and stew. When I insist he washes the sink, he’ll tell me his chore is to wash the plates not the sink. I have already given up. My safe haven is my bed. It’s clean the way I like it, and here no-one is in my face. But my old man still likes to come to my safe haven to frustrate me. Saying stuff that leaves me with so much hate and frustration.
My dad keeps saying I’m proud but he’s the proud one. I told him I’m not proud. I just believe in myself and have a healthy self-esteem. But he looks down on other people. He thinks only him is holy and assume others are sinners. He’s the proud one. That was how he told me one time that I’m going to go to hell if I change from catholic to Pentecostal because I was born catholic. He told me how he shakes his head when he remembers my aunt that changed from catholic to Pentecostal. He said; “before marriage, I used to see her at evening mass every Saturday. But just like that, because of marriage, she is now a non-Catholic, that is how she lost her soul”. I was disgusted by this talk to be very honest. Who told him she lost her soul? The other day he told me God is not happy with me. That he knows. He said he’s awfully close to God, he’s like a spirit. All these talk make me cringe from him all the more. How can someone assume so much?
Mama noticed the contorted look on Ezinne’s face, it was a mixture of anger and sadness. Ezinne and her father are like two lions fighting to dominate one tiny territory, even though there’s a vast expanse of fertile land around. They do not want peace, what they want is one person agreeing that he is at fault. The difference between them is that while Ezinne says whatever comes to mind, Papa is more contemplative. He is strong-headed, but talks sparingly, whereas Ezinne says whatever comes out of her mouth, regardless of the consequences. When Ezinne was five, she walked up to her father and asked him why the house wasn’t painted, and why there were no cupboards to put things nicely in them. “Our house is really ugly papa, buy a nice rug and cupboards to arrange our things inside them” She had told him. Papa had been so embarrassed. He asked her how she knew these things and she replied him saying she just knew. But he did nothing about it. And she couldn’t afford to do anything either. If she did, papa would have asked her what she was thinking doing that. And who she was trying to impress. There were more important needs to solve with money, not decoration, he always said.
Mama walked towards Ezinne, hugging her with her left hand, and soothingly rubbing her right hand vertically across her lower back. Mama told me to calm down. She said my dad and I are alike that is why we will never agree. We are both proud. We both want things to be done our way. We are both dominant. She continued; “Understand that he is your father, allow him win. You’re just being disrespectful by these things you’re doing. You must not always win every argument. Be careful, he is an old man. He no longer understands things as easily as before so be more understanding. Do what he wants and get it over with, stop dragging issues, stop claiming rights. I’ve said my own” With that, she drew away, looking straight into my eyes, and then turning away. She had this sad look in her eyes as usual and she sounded really tired.
The few sentences she made, alongside her expression, made me sit down feeling ashamed. What was I really thinking saying those hurtful things to papa? The stony hate which clogged my heart had now melted into mud, and were now choking my throat, making my breathing laboured as I tried to fight the tears gathering in my eyes. I wish I had a more loving father. One easy to love, and fun to be with. A father who wouldn’t make it so hard to be right with God. A nice papa that I would fight for, one I wouldn’t have to say hurtful things to.
Everyone has flaws and that’s what make us unique. It makes us different. I don’t like my father but without him I might not have the pretty face and body structure that I have. I hate him but without him I wouldn’t be as smart as I think I am. Without his irritating push I wouldn’t know God or love him. Every rose has thorns beneath it. I wept that morning, arriving work with swollen eyes and having to explain to my colleagues that my lack of sleep was that reason for my swollen eye lids. My papa has flaws but without him I wouldn’t be where I am. Without him I wouldn’t be the Ezinne that I love so much. But I wouldn’t tell him these. Neither would I apologize. After all I took after him in terms of pride. Though deep down I’m sorry. I hope he knows deep down and forgives me.
Ezinne (A sequel to Chiquitita)