Were you ever placed in a situation where you were all sweats and gulps? Even if you were not sweating externally, your heart was really beating fast in your chest because either Mum or Dad was there and you better not fall their hand..LOL
I had different experiences growing up and I’m gonna share one out of my many experiences with you which you might be familiar with – I hope you’ll drop your bits as well in the comment box once you are done reading this.
Looking back at some of these experiences makes me laugh now but back then, it was serious…we were like...”oh God, Oh God….please don’t let me get this wrong…”
I had issues with telling the time while growing up. I can’t remember how old I was but I remember I was quite small and I didn’t really understand the mechanism between the small hand and the long hand.
And then those suicide mission people only worsened it when they put the ‘seconds’ hand making it three instruments crawling on the wall clock.
Although, I was getting to know my multiplication table, which we recited every morning when we resumed class….you start chewing mouth when you got to those hard parts like…the 4, 6, 7, 8,9…etc…LOL
2, 3, 5, 10 and 11 times table were quite easy that time ‘cos you could just keep singing and no one would know the blunders you were making on your multiplication table.
I was one of the lucky ones – I wasn’t bad with my multiplication table.
The one that didn’t pass me by was telling the time.
I was given a homework, I did quite well and my Mum was impressed. In my house, you dared not bring anything like ’01-05’/10 in your classwork, if you did, you were in for it.
And so, my mum sent me to the living room to check the time, thinking to herself that I must be BRILLIANT at it already considering my grades in my homework. At that time, I didn’t know ‘jack’ about time, but I knew the O’clocks pretty well. So, whenever I was sent to check the time, I always waited for the long hand to reach 12, so that I could proudly say it’s ‘something o’clock.”
But this particular day was my day of reckoning, Mum was in the passage just behind the sliding doors that led to the kitchen and the other parts of the house. This further ensured she wasn’t going anywhere soon till I returned with an answer.
So, I stood there, looking, shaking and hoping that the long hand will get to the 12 already and I could proudly tell her it was an o’clock.
How wrong was I, the long hand was so far from 12 and so I began to wonder what this was all about.
She shouted in our dialect. ”So you don’t know what the time is?”
I can’t remember what I said but I knew it resulted in serious home lecture from my mother. With nose drooling and eyes swollen and red with tears, she would tell me to repeat after her while giving me doses of ‘abara’ when necessary. No child of hers wouldn’t know simple “what is the time?”
The shock that I didn’t know it made her give me a vigorous lecture on how to tell the time.
“What?!! You don’t know time?!! Ehn….oya…start counting,…if i missed it..one abara…if I missed it again, another abara,..oya…count from 12.’ she would say. ‘once the long hand leaves 12, how do you count it? 1-12 is the same as 5-60.
Those little lines inbetween are important as well as they serve as the 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6,7, 8, 9, 10
I look back at that time now and laugh because its funny now….
But o boy, that time of my life wasn’t funny at all oo…it was like torture…, but i’m glad she thought me those little things that helped raise me to be part of who I am today.
For that I’m grateful.
So, were you ever given an ‘abara’ in childhood and what simple things looked strange and difficult to you at that time?
Let’s laugh together, Use the comment box below.
For more stories like these – ff@glowingscenes on twitter
P.S: abara is a yoruba term that means hot slap at the back