Let’s play a game. Let’s call it 1 truth and 2 lies:
I once hawked gala in Lagos traffic. Won’t He do it?!
At age 9, I was made to return to my old school and repeat a class.
When I was 13, I wrestled with a rottweiler. I killed it.
Yeah, you guessed right. The truth is that at age 9, I was made to return to my old school and repeat a class. There’s a story here.
I am the 3rd of my parent’s 4 children. My mother was married to my father at age 29 and by the time she was 35, she had had all of us. Like my other siblings, I was already in kindergarten at age 3. I went to school in time like the rest of them, but my parents would soon find out that I was not like the rest of them. I was slow at learning, I was timid, I was not very responsive – in fact, I recoiled at the slightest iota of pressure, my handwriting was barely legible, I was VERY easily distracted, the only things I was interested in at school was the performing arts (school choir and poetry) and C.R.K.
Even though I struggled, I liked school. I liked being a part of the group, singing together, playing together. At age 5, I was among those selected to join my school’s classical music program and it was the highlight of my life. I would be part of this classical music program from age 5, till age 16 and I would always LOVE and maintain good memories of this foundation in music. Yet, I was barely getting by at school. I did not do poorly enough to call me challenged, but I was barely hanging there. My parents had a theory, my teachers had a theory, my headmaster had a theory, but I, I just was not interested.
Fast forward to my final year in school, time to sit for the common entrance examinations. Unlike others, I don’t remember getting ready for secondary school or thinking much about the school I wanted to go and whatnot. I left that to the parents. I was just happy to be a part of the group and was going with the flow. Until my headmaster calls my parents and I into a private meeting. I remember him saying to my father very simply, “Dr., I don’t think your son is ready for secondary school, I do not think he should be allowed to go through, in fact, I am so convinced of it that I shall insist on his not going through to secondary school. I think your son has a bright future and that if given one more year with me, he really can be something”. “What are you suggesting?”, my father asked him. My headmaster said again in the softest voice, “Let him repeat this year”. They spoke as though they were speaking about the weather, very politely, very civilized, my fate was decided. That day I thought my world crumbled. If it did, it was only because a new one was formed, a better one, a more beautiful one. In fact, I trace any academic success I have obtained till date to that civilized agreement that rocked my world.
The was no hell I did not try to raise, nobody I did not try to convince. I wept, I pleaded, I made promises, nothing worked. In fact, I woke up that day. The once passive child that left his entire life to chance was finally awake. My mother was worried about the psychological trauma I might face if I went back to that school and whether I might ever fully recover from it but all attempts to place me in a high school or another primary school failed. It was as though even God were part of that civilized agreement. Eventually I went back, I was ashamed, I was made fun of (because kids are mean), but it was also the best thing to ever happen to my academic/professional life. I went on to be the 3rd best in my state in the common entrance examinations, win a scholarship to the high school of my choice, become one of the best graduating students of my high school, get a full overseas scholarship to study law and graduate with a first-class in law.
Today, I am very grateful that my parents did not rush me, that they did not teach me to cut corners because of shame. Today, I know that failure is almost as shameful for the parent as it is for the child, that parents are obsessed with and way too invested in showing the world that their child is perfect; golden. I’m glad that my parents did not soften this blow, that they let me go through it, because life is hard, the earlier we learn that, the better. I learned to become – not because of, but in spite of. I learned to be proud of every aspect of me, to be unashamed of who I am, to embrace it all and make building blocks out of stones life has thrown me, but I did not always think like this, I learned it.
I used to run away from my past, I used to shy away from being identified with old me – old me who was so dull he had to repeat a class. Today, I am thankful for my early introduction to failure; that my mates left me behind; that at age 9, I had already realized that I am not my mates. Someone, in trying to comfort me, once told me that I am not my past. It is a lie. I am my past, but I am not my past alone. I am my past and my scars, I am fingers burned and lessons learned. I am my sufferings and my experiences. I am the force that carries all these things. I am the man they have made me to be.
*Koli uses the media of poetry and song to tell stories; he is also an IP & Tech Lawyer. Koli describes himself as a student of life and claims that his greatest inspiration comes from observing everyday people doing their everyday living.
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