Abeg if una see my mama
Hail her well-well
Wash her well with grammar
Your boy don show her hell.
I don thief; I don lie
I don fight; I don bloody
I dey sick; I dey die
She cure all, mummy dey steady.
Na she dey call always
Sabi to pray like Jesus wife
Our house always in place
For us, she fit free her life.
Momsie no vex abeg
You try, na me no dey gree
Yet you carry me like egg
Despite my ‘ef up’, you still love me.
Mummy I don hold ground
Relax ya mind, no more sorrow
Mummy smile, make you dey proud
Your prayer dem, e don dey show.
Baba God I thank You o!
Abeg make she still dey…
Momsie your boy love you o!!
Happy Mother’s Day.
Not enough is said about the virtues of a dad. That father figure that provides stability and foundation. The mostly quiet male stereotypes that forever seem engrossed in TV and the dailies.
A father need not be thus biologically. He is the role model that shapes your life. He is the one you want to be like…at least mostly. He is the one with corporate savvy or street credibility. He is the door to understanding your first crush or love. He is the go-to guy for relationship advice or sage words. He is the sounding board for interaction, the safe standard for measuring your sexuality.
He usually pays the bills; light, gas, rent, school fees et al. He travails to put food on the table and clothes on your back without recourse to you. He is the one who is not adept at explaining himself. Despite all your mum says about his lapses and weaknesses, he soldiers on…as his dad before him did.
He is not perfect. He may be a heavy drinker. A chain smoker. A bit of a dandy or gigolo. But you know he loves you. He is usually the one you take for granted. Except you are of African descent, then you know he will slap insolence off your cheeks.
He is the one you talk back to with caution. He is the disciplinarian. He gets the special portions of food, and that big piece of chicken. He is the one without breast milk. The one who seldom hugs, or maybe hugs too much just cause you’re growing up too fast. He is the awkward adult in your teenage years. The one who taught you to ride a bike and/or drive a car. The one tinkering with the plumbing and electricity, a kind of Russian roulette experience, just to make your mum happy. Or assert his relevance.
He will traditionally be at your wedding. Love your kids. Take you back home when things get rough. He will suffer illnesses, rugged his way through his mortgage payments and obligations without telling you till it’s too late…
He is my dad.
Rich or poor, I raise two thumbs up and later a shot or two of JD to all dad’s worldwide…here’s to you sirs… You are appreciated.