Fathers’ Day has just rolled by, and it got me reminiscing about my father of blessed memory and the times we shared. In one word, he could be described as supportive, and the papa/girl dynamics were super. He was very present in my upbringing and supportive of my mother and the family. He honed my skills largely through play and other interactions and I cannot forget the songs, poetry, and games he taught in our native language. He honed my language skills through playing Scrabble and through the WHOT card game he taught me how to be a gracious loser. He would sometimes allow me to win a game to teach two things –

1. In life, you win some and lose some.

2. The more attempts you make at something, the better you become and the more confident you grow.

The bonding continued into Secondary school when as a boarder in a school in Lagos, the family had relocated to Port Harcourt. Dad kept the communication flow by writing letters and mine to him were always dutifully corrected for spelling errors, tenses, punctuation marks and the like. This enabled me to excel in my proficiency in the English language. He was a firm believer in logical reasoning and speaking the truth regardless of its outcome. I recall two incidents that occurred in my teenage years, one of which I will share here.

During the holidays, one fine day, I was visited by three teenage boys who were also in a school in Lagos at the time. They had summoned the courage to stop by my house but were uncomfortable in coming in, seeing that my father was known to be a strict disciplinarian. He never spared the rod. We stood together at the front entrance to the house and though in conversation, the boys were conscious of their surroundings and prepared to scamper at the sound of any approaching car in the driveway. They were however visible to anyone who cared to look and my uncle Wilson who at the time resided in our BQ, with his family, took note of the situation. Rather than discuss it with me, he preferred to report the seeming infraction, to my father when he got home from work. The following exchange then ensued.

Dad – “…did anyone visit the house today in my absence?”

Havilah – “Yes Dad, three boys visited me in each other’s company.” I went on to reel off their names as I was aware he knew their fathers.

Dad – “Why should they visit you? Uncle Wilson informed me of their visit and that they stood at the door for a long time. How did you get to know them, After all, you attend a girls-only school and not a mixed school?’

I boldly responded – “Yes Dad, I attend a girls-only school but we have avenues and opportunities to interact with boys at sports meets, debating society and science club engagements and the like so of course I know some boys. Besides, is it not better for them to visit me in my house than for me to visit them or meet them on street corners?”

This was followed by a long-drawn silence, I do not think he saw it coming, then he called for his lunch and changed the topic of discourse.

Years later as I enjoyed the trust and confidence reposed in me, my father confided that the reported incident had made a strong impression on him. Firstly, it had shown him that I could be trusted to speak the truth regardless of the consequences that could emanate therefrom and that I displayed an analytical mind, given the perspective from which I had reviewed the situation. This trust and confidence, I enjoyed throughout his lifetime.

I, therefore, enjoin all fathers to spend time understanding their children and such can only be gained through spending quality time with them, bonding. This helps to shape them in achieving their divine destiny. For those who for some reason or the other missed the bonding period in their youth, it is never too late to reach out a hand of fellowship and try to understand them as adults. It is all about BONDING!

Love

Havilah