PLEASURE AND PAIN

Growing up in the suburbs was really fun for me - running up and down the streets, rolling waste car tyres, shouting, screaming and a whole lot more. One thing that really appealed to me then was the holidays. During the holidays, all the children on a particular street would gather to play hide and seek, police and thief, cat and mouse and what have you. To me, that was the height of fun.

One particular morning, the kids on my street decided that we should build a cart large enough to carry a person. We started out as early as 11:00 am when we were sure that all our parents were out at work. I was as usual, the ring leader- Head of Operations.

We went to the local carpenter’s workshop, gathered all the scraps we could find and started work- fitting pieces of wood together, hammering, sawing, smoothening, running around to get this item or that. We worked under the sun with all sweaty backs and foreheads.

I kept yelling orders “Go and get hammer!” “No! The other way round”. Since I was the oldest in the group and also the leader, majority of the hard work fell on me. I was so tired and exhausted that I had completely forgotten about my home chores, holiday homework and the assignment given to me by my father. I also forgot to give my four year old sister her lunch early enough, so she had accepted food from our neighbors and that, in my house was a taboo. Well, all that did not matter when compared to the satisfaction I would derive from riding in the cart.

After so much trial and error, dismantling and rebuilding and fasting for the afternoon, our cart was finally ready! We pushed it up the highest cliff and we all stared at our brainchild in admiration.

“We did it!” I shouted and everyone went wild with excitement. Bobo, the smallest in our group started jumping. Momood clapped while Chinedu drummed the unused pieces of wood he was still holding. The others started dancing. Even Tomiwa, the one with the protruding belly button, who never wore anything except his blue pants, was wild with frenzy.

“Stop” I ordered again. “Let’s test it”. The moment we had all been waiting for was finally here, right in our noses.

“Who go fest?” Tomiwa asked

“Dede of course” everyone chorused. That was me. I was almost bursting with pride. To be reasonable, I thought Bobo who was the smallest should be allowed the first ride.

“Let Bobo go first” I replied and everyone agreed. We helped Bobo into the cart and gave him a push. The cart slid smoothly down the cliff. Once again it was celebration as we moved the cart back to the top of the cliff. It was my turn to enjoy the ride. I put my left leg into the cart and was in the process of putting my right foot when I felt a warm sensation on my right ear. I didn’t need to look up to know what it was as I could see my father’s shadow. That warm sensation soon turned into burning of my ear from my father’s squeeze. He dragged me home by my ear and I struggled to keep in pace to reduce the pain.

When we finally got home, my father looked at me sternly and pointed to my stack of undone homework.

“If you are going to be successful in life, you must choose to be responsible. Your work must come before play. In fact, when others are playing, you must be here studying and when others sleep, you’ll be up burning the midnight candle. I am disappointed in you.” And with that, he left. Without any smacks or slaps, he had passed his message.

I started with my household chores and when I finished, I packed my books and read. Tear drops splashed over my hands and books as I thought about my father’s words. I cried till my eyes were sore and I didn’t realize when I peacefully dozed off on the books. That day marked my baptism into the reading culture. I was jolted back to life by the biting cold and taps of raindrops on the roof. I went to close my window and there it was! Just down the street, our cart was lying down in pieces in the mud. Fresh tears rolled down my cheeks. I cried until my sight was blurred I could no longer differentiate between my tears and the raindrops.

Today, about twenty years after that day, I am standing on that same spot, a fulfilled writer. I can still remember where each piece of the cart had lain. Way back then, I thought my father was wicked and insensitive to my need to play. I thought he took pleasure in seeing me bored and unhappy but I look back and thank him for that day, and for teaching me the importance of sacrificing some pleasure for pain. That is what molded me into what I am today.

Sometimes, the people around us require us to do away with some things or habits we love for more pressing issues. We should have it at the back of our minds that it is all for our own good. The finest gold has passed through several bouts of fire and purest silver through the refiner’s pot.