Kedu thought of how, in the Bible, Absalom hated David, and wondered if his hatred for his father, Sampson, equaled Absalom’s. He knew how Absalom noticed that David was getting old and wanted to take by force what belonged to David: the kingdom. In that epic father and his confrontation, Absalom drew a spear to kill David, but the wizened old man turned out to be stronger than he seemed.
As Kedu thought of the saga of David and Absalom, his heart shuddered a little. Would it end the same way I hate her for her father? she wondered. Sometimes Kedu was grateful that his contempt for his father did not match Absalom’s. At other times he wished that his hatred for his father would surpass Absalom’s.
At thirty, when Kedu looked back, he wondered why he hated his father so much. Unlike David, his father was not a king and was not willing to take charge of a kingdom. So what could explain this contempt? Over and over, Kedu searched for the events of his education. Childhood memories of him were blurred, like the mist from the town where he grew up. For countless nights, he visited the events of the past. Suddenly they appeared more visible and believable.
One moment in particular stood out. She remembered that he was just after the rooster had crowed, and a man had yelled in her right ear. “No one has swept the front yard! Get out of bed, go downstairs with your lazy bones, grab a broom and sweep the yard, wall to wall. To be a useful man in the future,” the voice continued, ” a boy I have to get up early to start chores. That’s how I grew up to be successful, building ten four-story buildings in Lagos and Ibadan, as well as earning respect among the men and women of the village.”
Sampson wanted to teach Kedu the same life lesson his father had taught him as a child. Without these early exercises in life, he would not have been able to afford to marry Agnes, also called “the beautiful bracelet one wears on one’s wrist,” he told his children. Life lessons must be taught early, especially to the first son, who would put himself in his father’s shoes to uphold the family legacy.
Meanwhile, Kedu had a different interpretation of that morning meeting. Shaken from sleep by his father, Kedu, who had turned six a couple of days earlier, went down the side stairs beside his room to the ground floor. Leaning against a corner wall were two tied dried palm leaves (Akpata). He retrieved them, went out into the front yard and began sweeping left and right. From that day on, Kedu hated Samson more than Absalom hated David.
As he swept, the image of his father flashed in and out of his mind. So bad of him to jolt me awake, Kedu thought. That can’t be love. “My father hated me since he was a baby,” Kedu said silently. It pained her that Sampson didn’t also wake up her little sister, Ngozi, age five, or her younger brothers, Dave and Dan (twins), age four. They could also hold palm leaves and sweep. He had seen them use palm fronds when they played clean up.
Kedu would rather start his morning chores by playing soccer, alone or with the early risers if none of the other village kids wanted to join him. Soccer was what he loved to do and he believed, despite his father’s disapproval of him, that soccer was the key to his future. In time, Kedu hoped to prove his father wrong.
“All I’m trying to do,” the father swore in his heart, “is teach the young man the hard-working lessons of true life.” Every time Sampson wanted to sit Kedu down and explain her intention, he changed his mind at the last moment. Who in his right mind would explain such things to a child? An explanation would confuse him more. “Someday there will come a future,” Sampson told Kedu in his mind, “when you look back and thank me for waking up early to sweep the compound with a dry palm frond.”
Many years passed, and while father and son continued to suspect and analyze each other’s past intentions, their relationship broke thread by thread. The hidden emotions within their hearts continued to expand like a balloon. Her mental health began to suffer, resulting in an illness attributable to a misunderstanding that occurred in childhood (Stern, 1998).
On a visit to a doctor, the psychoanalyst helped Kedu recall his alleged traumatic childhood experiences and encouraged him to talk openly about them. Having downloaded the memory from him she felt better. The hatred he had for Sampson began to fade.
Reference
Popa, D.N. (1998). Diary of a baby: what your child sees, feels and experiences. Basic books.