The Girl Who Waited


I do wonder about parents.

When I say wonder, I mean what do they calculate as they raise a child. Do they have a manual in their heads, what kind of parents they wanted to be?

Growing up, I was told I could do anything as long I as set my heart to it. Any thing will work, so long as I put in my all. Well, being told stuff like that....I'm not sure they believed it them selves. When I was but a child, I wanted to be an astronaut because I loved the idea of the unknown, then I took to the love of Medicine. I think I just liked their white overcoat. I changed what I wanted to become so many times, mostly because I did not truly know myself, I mean this was till I was 11. Every child does this.

I studied all courses as a child and that was fine till secondary school, where I decided that writing stories was my life goal. When I grow up, I will be a writer. This is where I started the longest wait in my life.

In primary school, my mum had a little habit that she took till I entered the university. When she bought my stationaries for the school term, she would add beautiful books and fancy pens. These were my writing materials. I would use them to write any story that came to mind. When I came home everyday, she would ask about it and I would give it to her. This, she stored among many that I'm sure have been lost to time by now.

Today, I wonder if she should have encouraged me that far. She was a mother and a wife and with that, came a responsibility some of the world would not understand. A Nigerian mother and wife was basically caved from a different clothe than all the others. The husband is the head and she must bend to and for the head.

I don't quite remember saying I wanted to be an engineer. No...I'm sure such abominable words never left my lips. Engineer? Building a bridge or a car... These were done by those who learnt the laws of physics and mathematics and practiced its principles. Laws? I lived outside laws. To listen was never my parent's strong suit. Today, I wonder if all I ever said, he had ever heard.

It was time to choose courses in my senior year and I had found my love for words. I knew where I was leaning towards. So funny how fast I had discovered who I am.

Every one submitted their course choice and was approved but I never got a reply. Walking into the Headmistress' office, the angry child I was, was at full steam.

"Why is my course not approved?" I asked.

"All courses have been approved. Let me look at your file." she said, going through her desk like a phantom.

"Here. All your courses have been approved." she placed the file before my and my face fell. I remember anger taking over before I could process my thoughts. They were all science subjects.

"These are not the subjects I chose." the woman could already see my eyes go dangerously red.

"Calm down. If its a mistake, its an easy fix." she said. A teacher in the office I had not discovered was there, spoke at last.

"Her father sent her subject during the holiday." he said and I felt my heart sink.

You see, I was going to a boarding school. If I could not correct this, I would have to wait till I get home.

"Sorry. You will have to tell your father to change it. We can not do anything." the headmistress said.

Among my memories, this is one of many that I laugh out loudest today, the moment it crosses my mind. I'm not sure though, if I'm amused or crying inside. I can't usually tell what my laughter means these days.

I remember complaining to my mum. She had said,
"Wait. You make good grades anyway. Just finish secondary school and study arts in the university."

Its funny she said the same thing when I got shipped off to another local government to study engineering. And again when I mysteriously got admission into the university. I wonder sometimes, whose side she is on.

I am not a parent, so I could not hope to understand what my parents could be thinking. But I understand much about pain.

I don't remember much about school. Today, my memory is much worse. But, I remember days after days, looking at the rain pouring down my window. I remember covering myself up in that gray blanket and staring at the empty clouds. When I think of those memories, I wonder what I was thinking. I wonder, if I was actually waiting.

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