Chronicles of Naija Mums (Part 1)

Motherhood is a powerful ministry, no doubt. That being said, let us examine this ‘specimen’ very carefully. WHO ARE NIGERIAN MUMS?
Answer: Special!
The thing is, Nigerian mums are a very rare specie of humans. Wonderful people.
Special case study.
They are not all the same but I tell you, they have common traits, sometimes you think they plan it because how else is it that when you were growing up, you go to your friend’s house and hear his mum shouting about the same exact things your mum shouts about, in the same exact way, and when you adjust your eye to watch the tv as if you never heard anything, his mum turns to you,“Don’t you advise your friend? Paul is a very lazy boy” She turns to your friend and says, “John! Look at your friend, how quiet he is. See your life!”.Next week, your friend is in your house and your mum is screaming,“Emeka! Look at John! Does he have two heads?…..”PLEASE, did they plan it?
THE NAIJA MUM’S MOST VALUED TOOL?
Answer: Something long and painful.
Before I continue this exposé, I’d like to point out that there is a tool employed by these women that makes their job easier. A companion, often seen under beds and under the chairs in sitting rooms of unsuspecting kids.         
The Whip! Yikes! Those days, there was no house without this ‘commodity’. In the past, it could be in the form of a small stick or the stalk of a tree in your compound plucked during emergency times. Later, as we grew up, they started making them in commercial
quantity! You go to the shop of any Mallam or even ‘provision’ stores and you see it piled in one corner, bound together by one rubber band (Infact this made me seriously hate one Mallam Aminu those days- a true friend to many mothers back then)
The thing is, this whip can land on your
back for any to no reason at all;
“Have you done your assignment? I say, have you done your assignment?” *whip whip*
“So two times eight is eighteen ehhh……”
*whip whip*
“Joy, so you are now following bad gangs”
*whip whip*
“Abu, who told you to go and pluck those
mangoes?
*hand whip*
This *whip whip* is almost always the
aftermath of any conversation that starts
like this,
(Act 1; Scene 1)
MUM: You are here watching tv, have you
finished your food?
CHILD: Mummy, I don’t like eba, I want to
drink tea and bread/cake
MUM: This night? (getting really angry and
rising up)
CHILD: Mummy, I don’t like this food!
(Act 1; Scene 2)
You don’t need to be Shakespeare to know
what happens next!!
Or when your mum sees you and your
elder brother fighting and says “Wait for
me!” while she hurriedly makes her way
into her room……..hmmmmmm.
NAIJA MUMS AND PUBLIC PLACES
We all know that Nigerian mums cannot differentiate between public places and indoors when it comes to disciplining the kids. They seldom care if the neighbours hear the loud strokes of cane metted out on the poor child. This explains why when you’re in church and refuse to open your mouth to sing with the choir or if you attend these 'fire’ churches; you don’t stamp your foot, close your eyes and speak out your prayer points loudly or you find yourself nodding off
while kneeling down in a night vigil.
What do you hear next on your back? A loud rasp that
startles you back to the real world! Some call it ‘abara’, some call it ‘reality check’ while others call it ‘hard
reset’….What ever name you choose to call it, this tumultuous blow to your back can spoil your career on the streets or in school because, eww! Your street girls were also in church that day! Or Tola, that girl from your class attends your church too and everyone will hear about it before you enter class tomorrow… Oh Lord!
This above stated reason is why children hate to sit near mum in church; Or to suddenly see her crossing the street on her way out while you’re busy playing with friends. She may suddenly know at that moment that the afternoon plates are not washed and ruin your ‘street credibility’ immediately! Oh lord!

NAIJA MUMS AND MONDAY MORNING
Psychological analysis have shown that some of our  phobias and things we extremely hate are unknowingly borne out of ‘horrible’ childhood memories. We all hate Monday morning!! This fear indeed was awakened in us by no other person than……..? Your guess is as good as mine! After the precious weekend that shouldn’t have ended at all, who wakes us up in the ‘ungodly hours’ of the morning? Who flogs us back to reality when we pretend to be praying that early morning meanwhile we are dozing off? Who asks us in a loud voice whether we are sure we have done our weekend assignment while our eyes are still tingling with sleep?
Who canes our behinds when she realises that we have not ironed our clothes throughout the weekend and now there’s no light? I say, who do all these? I’ve told you, your guess is as good as mine!
NAIJA MUMS AND SATURDAY MORNING
Oh! She’s at your door again!
FOOD FOR THOUGHT: Do you know that it is a crime, punishable by ‘shouting’ or flogging or both, to wake up even five minutes after your mum on a Saturday
morning? Ponder on this! (But while you’re pondering), if this is a Saturday morning, kindly take the nearest sponge and go and wash the plates before another thing will land on you! And we all know that weekend plates are the hardest to wash. Your daddy can never be nice enough to eat rice with only one plate! There is plate for the stew, one for the rice and one for mixing! And visitors too! Those horrid vipers! You do all the work for them yet you get chased from the TV you’re watching because they want to engage in ‘adult talk’. Well, Saturday morning is the ultimate misery for any child growing up. You work and work! After washing and scrubbing, the Nigerian mum is never content with this work, you find yourself starting all over again at some point. The most painful part was the days of Cadbury Breakfast Television and Spiderman cartoons, my dear! Try to put on the TV on Saturday morning. Just try it

CHRONICLES OF NAIJA MUMS ( PART TWO)
 Catch ya!!! Xoxoxo
Twitter handle @dahliadona.
P.s blogging might be irregular for a while. Pleas bear with me. School ain't giving me a breathing space. Love you muchos.