Just Like Papa

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I thought I knew how to lead a boy, because I had been led by a man. I thought I had learnt the rudiments required. But maybe I was wrong.

Papa isn't loud. He had every reason to be, as a man who had three hefty teenage boys. Yet he didn’t. His presence was enough to settle a ruckus in the room. He would walk in, stare at us for seconds and somehow, we would all shrink without him saying a word.

That was the kind of man I grew up watching. The kind of man who was flashy yet focused, forceful yet firm. He didn't have to beat his chest to show off what he could do. Yet everyone knew his strength, what he carried and best not to be toyed with. A man who didn’t raise his voice. Yet when he stands, we align. Just one look from him is all he needs to straighten your soul

And that didn't stop him from being the best father anyone could ask for. He set his priorities right. Trust me, his family was on the top of the list.

And as a boy who adored his father, I studied him like the scriptures. Hoping for the day life will give me the joy to guide.

Finally, life gave me my own boy to guide, my younger brother, Emmanuel. The best human gift God has ever given to me. At least for now till I make my own family. I pulled out all I've learnt from my father’s book and tried to copy every line.

When Emmanuel was still young. Just entered SS1. He was too tall for his age, and his head was full of weird, wild ideas. A sharp, smart boy but restless. Always looking for noise for wahala (trouble).

Considering Mama and Papa's work schedule. They were always in and out, busy with work or maybe church, and somehow the burden of guidance fell on me.

That big brother who was the second man of the house.

At first, Emmanuel started with the little things. From avoiding chores and leaving it for me to handle even when I had other stuff to do, to going to school late and dragging his feet along as he went. And making bad friends who advised him to skip his assignments for parties and other irrelevant things.

In all these, I didn’t yell, chase, shout, or beat my chest. That wasn't the way Papa handled things. It was either the cold stare that melts you, and that was exactly what I replicated, hoping it would create the same stillness in him. Remind him who he was.

But it didn’t.

The more I acted like Papa, the more Emmanuel bent out of shape. Stayed out late into the night, told lies but I’d say nothing. I thought silence was power. I thought I was doing it right.

According to Papa. "A man of few words is feared more than a man who talks a lot."

Until one day, I was called by the school authorities. Emmanuel had scaled the school fence with other boys while classes were ongoing. Whatever they went to do. Nobody knew.

Papa was out of town with Mama for a business meeting. Since I was the only available person who could stand in. I was called by the school.

We had returned that day from his school in silence after I had pleaded with the school authorities to pardon him. He stormed into the house and I followed him. I watched as he sat on the couch and stared at him for a few minutes. I wanted to shout, to tell him how angry I am with him but I felt my silence and stare would do better. Besides that what Papa would do. So I held myself and walked away from him towards my room.

"I hate that school. Always limiting one from having a little fun?" He said as I went.

That was what broke the camel's back. I flared up.
"Fun? Did you just say fun?" I asked with a death stare in my eye as I walked back to him. "Are you really in your right senses? Maybe you're not because if you were, you'd know what it means to set your priorities right! You jumped your school fence to go to God knows where! I don't even want to talk about your other stupid escapades with those boys I've warned you about. And you still have the guts to talk!" By now I could feel my heart beat faster with rage.

"Seems like you've lost the idea of who you are or what family you came from. You want to be the black sheep? Go ahead. But I've got no hand in it anymore." I concluded. Then I walked away.

I knew he was watching me. I knew he didn't expect my outburst. But I didn't care. I got into my room and banged the door shut.

A few hours later, I heard a knock on the door while I was scrolling through my phone. Without being asked in. Emmanuel walked in looking like a sinner who found the way to the confession box. I ignored him and continued with my phone.

He sat down by my bed and looked from me to the floor.

"If you have something to say, say it or leave my room," I said, eyes locked on my phone.

"I'm sorry," he replied, still looking at the floor.

I dropped my phone and turned to him.

"You never really talked or complained. I thought you were okay with everything. I thought you didn't care or you supported it." He continued.

"How can you say that? When I look at you the way Papa does you should know why. He barely shouts at us yet we know when we did something wrong. That was exactly the same thing with you." I said in a low tone. Gradually, it was finally becoming clear to me. It isn't every leaf you take from another's book.

"But you're not Papa." He looked at me. "Shout, scream, tell it to my face that I messed up. Papa had that aura already but you, you don't. I want to know what you think about my actions if I'm wrong. I was thinking you felt it too, that Papa was too harsh, and the little time we get to ourselves, we have fun with it."

"No, Papa isn't harsh. And the little time we get, we represent the image of our family well. Even in their absence." I countered.

He smiled. "Okay, fine. I'm sorry. Are we good now?"

I grabbed my phone again. "Shut the door on your way out."

"Is that a yes?"

"I've heard. Oga go."

He tapped me playfully and walked to the door. At the door, he turned. "There is no food at home. What are we going to eat?"

I laughed. "You just told me that I'm not Papa so why are you asking me?" I jokingly said.

He laughed. "But you wanted to be so bad. Please do something."

I looked at him. I couldn't easily tell what it was. But I saw that big baby inside the tall guy who thinks he's all grown up. "All I can afford now is noodles for you." I pulled my drawer and gave him a few notes. "Bring back my change."

He leaped for joy and took the money from me. Then he ran out of the house happily.

Since then, things have been okay to a certain level. Yes, he still drags his feet sometimes, late to school and some other riffraff activities. But, now I try to tell him my mind and he listens better.

I still follow Papa's footsteps. Although I didn't need to be stern and silent like Papa, but open and honest like me.