I grew up in a family were we always had tea and bread for breakfast. My mother always bought novels and books for me and my siblings and forced us to read them. As a child, myself and my siblings always waited for my daddy at the door post every evening, knowing that the first person to take his bag, would always get the promo meat roll (gala) inside the nylon of the loaf of bread, along with the compulsory cheese balls biscuit, and yogurt ice cream he always bought for all four of us on his way back home from work. We would lick the ice cream sluggishly, looking at each other from the side of our eyes to know whose ice cream would finish first. In the home I grew in, we ate rice and stew with chicken every sunday and on Christmases, Easters and birthdays we had additional salad and Vita malt to go with it. In the home I grew in, going to church was a culture, I attended block rosary every evening and knelt down with bare knees on the concrete floor in penance for my childish sins which to me then were very terrible. I received Holy communion regularly and went for confession every month even though I had nothing to confess. My mother taught me to love God. My father taught me to love myself. My parents were far from rich but I had a comfortable childhood with rich memories.
Even though things have changed. Even though I have experienced so much more since then which had changed me, the days of my childhood are still the days I relish whenever I want to get in contact with my real person. The days of pepper snacks and speedy biscuits, the days of Zobo and kunu drinks, the days of baba dudu sweet.
My childhood days formed me, they made me who I am. It is a vital part of my life. It is part of my lifes story. Everybody has a story. I turned out the way I am because of how I was raised, because of the people around me, because of my parents, because of the wonderful experiences I have had, which I hold on very tightly to. Some people aren't as fortunate as I am, Some people have worst childhood days. Some people don't know the meaning of family because they have never had one. Some people have lived all their lives homeless and hopeless, sleeping under bridges at night and wandering during the day. Some people have never had anyone buy them biscuit and ice cream. Some people have never read a single book because no one bought or encouraged them to read. Some people have never seen the four walls of a school because they couldn't afford books talk little of tuition fees. Some people have been sick all their lives. Some people have never been told about God. Some girls were raped and abused as children. Some boys were taught as children, that the way to survive in life was to steal and kill, by people who their childish heart trusted. Some people have watched their siblings and parents die because of poverty. Some people have gone days without food begging on the streets with tattered clothes and lice filled hair.
Everyone has a story. A story that makes them who they are. A story that has moulded them into what they are. A story that broke or made them.
Never Judge a person without knowing his or her story. Never say you are better than someone if you haven't been in his or her shoes. It's only the one who is wearing or has worn the shoes that knows where it pinches. Never look down on people. Never conclude about people, because behind every man or woman there is a story. A story that might shock you.
No comments:
Post a Comment