Entangled 3

My first son arrived a year afterwards. I was ecstatic! He was my look a like. I had prayed that none of the kids would take after Freda. I didn’t want short children, that was why.

The naming ceremony was lavish. People came from far and near to serenade baby Dumebi. My parents were so proud and happy they invited all their friends and acquaintances.

I never got tired of kissing his pink toes and hands. I loved watching him squeal in laughter especially when I tickled him. He was my dream come through. My continuity,my hope and joy.

Two years later we had a daughter. I was overjoyed. All was well with my world. Things were going on smoothly in business and I had never been happier.

Fifteen years later, Dumebi got admitted to read Mechanical engineering  in one of the universities in Nigeria. I had wanted him to study in my alma mata but his mother was insistent he study in Nigeria. She hated flying and did not want to have to go by air to check up on him in Aberdeen. Mother and son bond was strong and I as usual agreed with her.

Barely two years later, my son was rusticated! Why, you may ask? For the craziest of reasons, selling Indian hemp on campus!

Up till this moment, I ask myself, where did I go wrong. Was I a bad father, mentor and coach? He was never lacking money as I gave him in excess of whatever he demanded. I expected his mother to join hands with me to scold him, but she just calmly asked me to ‘ arrange' another school for him. I looked askance.

When I asked him what had possessed him to sell Indian hemp, my son told me he was just trying to ‘ catch some fun!’ I detected fundamental character flaws too late in my son. I wept bitterly.

I had to see to it that he was admitted in a private university. There as well he was rusticated for cheating! My despair could not be described. A child who disgraces his parents brings dishonour to the family name. I had been dishonoured. For months I brooded. My blood pressure went up and I had to be hospitalized. Immediately I was discharged, I made up my mind to wash my hands off this incorrigible son of mine. I wasn’t going to allow anyone and I reiterated, anyone to send me to an early grave.

His mother nagged and cried and raged at me. Looking at her coolly, I knew then, that it had been a mistake to marry her. What sort of mother supports such evil and indiscipline in a child?

Eventually I was able to get him an admission in Ghana. Before he left I spoke to my son. I told him this was his last chance that I would wash my hands off him if he messed up. He looked at me in the eye and smiled sardonically. I shivered involuntarily. Had I raised a monster?

To be continued…