During my childhood years I was gangster (playful and wild). By the age of six, I was a bad guy. I did things that many embarked upon only in their teenage years. I had my first kiss at the age of six and by the age of 8 I had known where babies came from. I had a partner in crime back then (my best friend) we used to chase after the girls(in church, at parties and in the neighbourhood).
However, in the eyes of my mother I was a good child and I made sure it stayed that way. I was hardly reported in both school and church for bad behavior apart from my academic performance sometimes. My mother was strict, her principle was ‘spare the rod and spoil the child’. She always quoted it before the beating began (it was our lil preamble before the trashing commenced).
In Church, we were taught not to lie. ‘All liars shall go to hell’ mother would always say, as a sharp kid I knew hell was a bad place (thanks to certain mount zion movies) but I always end up lying.
My younger brother back in those days was very gentle unlike me, I was everywhere. I always tried to protect him and make sure he was doing good. My father usually bought us the same things(clothes, shoes etc), people referred to us as twins. My father liked us to be exceptional as kids and well behaved.
My father bought my brother and I leather belts when he came back from one of his journeys. But as a bad guy, I turned my belt into something else (I twisted it so badly). “Abido, whose belt is this?” my father asked but being the crinimal I was then I knew the end result. So I said “Daddy, it’s not mine”, he then called my brother and asked him the same question but he gave the same reply.
My father then asked us to get him the other belt but I hid it when he called me the first time. When we couldn’t find it, he said I should bring his belt (flogging time). He then asked for the last time “Whose belt is this?” And we both answered “It’s not mine”.
Till today, I don’t know whether it was just a strategy or he knew it was mine. He then decided to flog my brother first (my brother was rarely flogged) after the first stroke, my brother started to cry. I couldn’t take it anymore so I confessed. My father was furious not because of the belt but cos I lied and allowed him flog my brother. He beat the living daylight out of me (well, that wasn’t the first time. Mom was the pioneer of such beatings).
Several hours later, he explained to me that he wasn’t happy that I lied and got my lil brother in trouble. He then retierated the line “All liars will go to hell”.
However, I decided to lie better without implicating my loved ones. From that day I made sure my lies were solid (‘cos when you tell the truth you get flogged, if you lie and u’re caught you get flogged more – flogging is almost inevitable BUT if you lied don’t get caught you get away with it).
Morale of the story: If you are going to or must lie make it a good one.