I woke up several rainy seasons ago to the song “to God be the glory” and guess who’s voice was loudest. Yeah, you guessed right, dad. I’m starting a series of memoirs that would also serve as a memento to immortalize individuals that have thus far left a mark in my life, beginning with this post. The voice was high pitched so it was a tad confusing. Were they two women singing? Did I have two moms?

Planning. When he asks this question, “What is your program for the day?” Your best bet is to have a ready thought out answer. Because if you didn’t, bear in mind that he’s already planned your own day out for you. And I’m willing to bet you wouldn’t like the plan one bit. It will involve greeting the elderly and accompanying him to the bank. If you’re lucky though, you get a treat, so it’s not all bad.

Baggage. If you know Emmanuel, you know he doesn’t travel light. This one time we took a road trip which was to last about three days, tops. I packed a single bag pack. I came back in to pick his luggage and there in front of me were two suitcases, one toilet bag, several nylon bags, a survival kit, a first aid box, a bottle of groundnut, a box of tissues, a shoe rack and a pack of bottles of water. I had to ask if we were relocating.

He is a huge fan of academics. Left to him, every single one of us children would be professors by his estimation. Even as a little boy I was already paying my dues of sleepless nights. This one time he decreed that during the holidays we had to put in on the average four hours daily for study. Four hours! Best believe we read a grand total of thirty minutes daily and spent the rest looking out for him.

Discipline. My dad is big on discipline. As a clergyman, he believed the rod of correction wasn’t to be spared on his children. He is particular about this very task. Offenses attract a certain measure of punishment. If you tell a lie, you’ve earned yourself six strokes of the cane. If you steal something, you earn twelve strokes of the cane. Imagine lying about stealing. You gotta find a new home to take you in. But of course, honesty is celebrated.

Destruction. The rule in the house is, if you destroy something, you replace it. I was in the habit of breaking wine glasses and China. And guess who was charged with the responsibility of doing the dishes? Me, that’s who. So being fully aware that I can be really careless with handling, the decision of the house was to ensure all I do was handle China. Talk about setting me up to fail!

I do love this man to death. He’s a very willing learner. I convinced him to not rebroadcast any WhatsApp message without checking with me and he totally agreed. Typically those “If you don’t share this message, your son will become a Justin Beiber fan” type. We also have a fancy handshake which honestly is really smooth. He’s hacked this parenting thing and set the bar so high. I’m definitely going to do my best, to preserve the legacy of the man who’s responsible for all this greatness.

You’re lifted.

ยฉ Gottfried. All rights reserved.


112 thoughts on “Emmanuel

  1. I know a person–sorry I can’t name the name–who requires his children to be honest with him and share information with him. However he himself is never honest and never share any information about his own life with them except those that are impossible to hide.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Love this! What an honor. Now you got yourself a high bar to attain ๐Ÿ˜Š.

    Sounds like your dad and mine came from the same loins when it comes to travelling and packing; – sadly, we emulate them unawares (environmental rather than genetics influence). I find myself packing and my family stirs as if I had planned a month’s getaway without divulging it to them. But when we get to our destination, you hear things like “do you have this …” “oh I forgot this …” and guess what, I whip it out and receive all hugs and kisses.

    Liked by 1 person

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.