Written by Ore Afolayan
As a growing child, the religion ferried from Europe was the religion
practised in our home. Morning and night devotions were rituals
compulsory for participation.
Not to partake in any of these practices was an offence, an heinous
crime the Good Lord frowned at. Often times, it was accompanied by a
correctional lecture by the family’s head. We were, at other times
whipped severely and severally.
As a growing young man privileged to have come across a plethora of
literature relating to the concept of religion, I now understand that
religion can be viewed as a ritualistic mode of worship, can be viewed
as a man-to-his-god one on one relationship, can also be seen as a
bridge between the Cosmic nature of existence and humans.
I won’t choose any form of religion for anyone via this piece since I
believe that every man is for himself, thus has the liberty, the
freedom to worship in whatever way it pleases him/her. However, no
matter the option we decide to choose, it is imperative we include
logic in our doings and not be guided strictly by religious dogmas.
Recently, I was at one of the Iyana-Ipaja BRT terminals, queuing up
into a bus. While standing, I noticed a woman, in her mid forties
presumably, walking in company of a set of identical female twins,
they should be 8 or 9years of age.
They wore elegant and radiating outfits, they were a sight to behold.
However, I couldn’t look at those children- one had tears spiralling
down her eyes, the other wore a cold face of misery. Looking at them
was looking at the 234/276 missing school girls.
As I maintained my opposite gaze, rebellious and violent remarks from
pedestrians filled the air, ‘you wan kill am, he no go better for you,
you won’t eat the fruit of your labour’. Then, it dawned on me that
the woman had been inflicting the child with her palm for not singing
well in church.
The crying child now frightened one, upon seeing her supposedly
mother’s arm go up for another beating, ran to her opposite direction
to avoid the slap. Tragedy struck immediately, as she didn’t see the
motorcyclist coming her way. I bought an handkerchief, absorbed the
brewing tears from my eyes, then jumped into the bus.
I alighted couple of minutes later. Barely had I walked few metres
when three teens walked up to me to ‘solicit’ for transport fare that
will enable them get home. They wore nice outfits, so they could
obviously be telling the truth, hence, I gave them an amount that
could ferry them home. While they left, resounding, ‘Brother, thank
you’, I asked after their mother, ‘she has gone for evangelism.’ one
of them responded. The youngest of them added, ‘that’s how she’ll be
doing, we’ll be trekking every every day, she will not give us money.
Uncle, abi you know Pipeline? Shey it’s not far?’ I apologized on her
mother’s behalf and told them to catch the bus that just dropped off
‘Teenage rebellion’ was the phrase that came to mind after pondering
about the above scenarios. The rebellion would obviously start from
the home-the family(one of the children in the second situation had
even commence hers orally). The rebellion gradually grows as it comes
into the society. A gang of rebellious children would obviously come
to fore due to the subtle religious actions of their mothers. In most
cases, many of these children leave home with intent of not returning,
many become prodigals, others are conditioned to scolding,
maltreatment and torture becoming hardened criminals later on.
Mothers, we know you wish the best for us. We may not be aware of the
consequences of our intentions, actions and inactions. However, all we
want, all we need is for you to understand us.
For more information, you can tweet at me on twitter @Ore_Afolayan Hoping to read from you
Written by Ore Afolayan