By ATOKEWe really need a day between Saturday and Sunday. There’s always way too much going on on Saturday and just when you’re about to properly bask in the beauty of Sunday and the rest that comes with it… it’s Monday. Something in that entire set up just doesn’t seem fair, so if anyone knows where we can sign a petition to have an extra day of rest, hook a sister up!
Anyway, what did you guys get up to this weekend? I woke up on Saturday feening for a breakfast of yam and fried stew. You see, yam and fried stew is one of the most delightful legacies my grandma left me. Her fried stew was the true definition of ata dindin. She would lovingly break slices of yam into tiny cubes that make it easier to chew and she did it EVERY time. I spent the first 7 years of my life with my grandma and it was the best time of my life. She loved all her grandchildren and spoiled us silly. If you got in trouble, all you needed to do was run over to my grandma and report yourself. She knew how to smoothen all the rough edges with our parents and it was just nice.
I’ve always wondered why we don’t have a special day dedicated to grandparents like we have Mothers Day and Fathers Day. Grandparents are so markedly different from parents. If you pay close attention to how strict your parents were with you, you’d notice they’re so different when they’re relating with your kids. Because I had such an amazing grandma, I have always assumed that all grandmas are angels on earth. So, a few years ago, when my friend lost her grandma, I imagined that she’d be quite distraught. She replied that she didn’t really know her grandma as her mom has told her that the Mama was a witch and had never wanted them to get married. That was enough to snap the bubble and drop me hard on the asphalt of reality.
My granny was anything but a witch. Many years ago, when my brother was in between secondary school and university; he must have been bored poring over Ababio and the Additional Maths text books, because somehow the devil entered his mind to go drive my Dad’s Mercedes Benz. This was in the late 80s so you can imagine how the Benz 190 was a prized possession. Anyway, he took the car out for a spin and as the devil will have it, he ran the car right into the wall of the gate on the way back from his yawo! Using his strong Command Ibadan face and voice, he warned my cousin and I that if word of this got out, he would dismember us and feed us to Castro and Gaddaffi (the dogs!). He shouldn’t have bothered because we wouldn’t have even tried ourselves. We feared our NMS and Command cousins more than the parents sef!
So, he went and submitted himself to my grandma to confess his sins. No way was he going to the onslaught of my Father’s wrath if he didn’t have back up. It was the smartest thing he could have done. My grandma came to the house that evening and gisted with her son. After getting the easy stuff out of the way, she told him about the sanctity of life and how “emi lo ju” in all things.(Preservation of life is paramount).
I don’t know how she worked her magic but the bobo got off with just a stern warning. My granny was an angel and I loved her silly. (Absolutely nothing to do with all the Choco Milo the woman stuffed me with).
Please share some of your most memorable moments with your grandparents (good or bad). Have a fabulous week ahead. Don’t let anything get you down. Keep a smile on your face and remember to touch lives positively.
Love, peace & cupcakes!