I got feedback regarding my last letter. Thank you to everyone who engaged in the comments, via chats, and in one-on-one conversations.
Sincerely, I must say that I wish I had told my mom that I wanted her to look through my report cards.
We can’t always expect our loved ones to figure out what we want. Communication is the bedrock of any relationship.
Did you miss the letter? Read it here:
It’s a very busy evening, ladened with Lagos traffic congestion
Mama and I were returning from UNILAG.
It’s my second time choosing the University of Lagos as my institution of first choice. My dad had spoken with one of our relatives who knew another distant relative, Uncle Shina, who knew some lecturer at UNILAG. So, I had to go with my mom to see the lecturer.
Read about my university admission story here:
Now that I am writing this, the details of that event are coming back clearly.
Ridiculous on the one hand, and hilarious on the other. I remember having to go to the bank to send some money to Uncle Shina’s account. My mom, afraid that I might lose the sum of N30,000 (such a big money then) on my way, made me wear a short that had this zipper pocket at the front under my skirt. She wanted me to keep the money there.
“How am I supposed to enter the bank and bring the money out?” I asked her.
“Enter the bank’s toilet to do that.” She advised.
I would have followed her instruction if I had heard the story of how Iya Wale’s apprentice strangely lost the sum of N100,000 between Ijoko Ota and Sango the day before.
Back to my story...
We were on a bus returning from UNILAG. I was tired, wishing we didn’t have to go through the stress. From leaving home in the wee hours of the morning to the trouble we went through locating the lecturer’s office and finally getting to see him, I appreciated the sacrifice, but I wish we didn’t have to pay anyone. Not that I spoke out against it. We didn’t even leave the lecturer’s office with any concrete solutions.
Parents want the best for their children and will do what they can to make it happen. It’s love. I get it.
Love Language in my Family
My parents care and show affection in their own way.
We just aren’t a family high on displays of emotion. We have reserved communication. It didn’t help that I am reserved too. Would you believe it if I told you that no one has ever said “I love you” to another in our family?
The effect was that as I began to meet people and forge friendships, I struggled to verbalise my feelings in other ways, like saying, “I love you.” Especially to the same sex. I had to learn to give and receive hugs. Bringing a little intentionality to it all.
Recurring Thanks and Prayers
It’s how we express love. At home.
And it’s the first and consistent way I learned to display my feelings to people I care about or have enjoyed kindness from too. So, it hurts kind of me when I try to say, “Thank you for what you did…” with some sprinkling of prayers, and my subjects, especially Lanre and Joshua, don’t say Amen or show some enthusiasm.
What’s the consistent way love is expressed in your family?
Back to my story...
On our way home, I was already rehearsing how to go on my knees to thank and pray for Mama when we got home.
I didn’t know where the trigger came from that caused Mama to start sneezing on the vehicle.
I was buried in my own thoughts. But I managed to tell her “sorry” once.
When we got home, I performed my rehearsal for Mama. But she didn’t have it. She was pissed that I didn’t even show that I cared as she sneezed away on that vehicle. She said I acted like an ungrateful child.
I said, “Sorry.” I told her. She said she didn’t hear me say so. Well, it took a lot of discipline in the choir from my dad for me to start speaking out loud. So, she couldn’t have lied about not hearing me.
That night, it felt like I had hurt her. I apologised. When I read The Five Love Languages a year later, in retrospect, I was grateful that she told me how she felt. In the years that have followed, I have fully come to understand that it’s part of her love language as she shares events from her relationship with my dad and siblings with me.
And it’s as a result that I make sure that whenever anyone sneezes or coughs around me, I say, “Take care.” “Sorry.” as many times as they do. It reminds me of Mama.
As I close, I hope you see the dynamics of human nature, relationships, and love languages.
The power of verbalised feelings.
The impact of small gestures.
The significance of understanding subtle cues.
And the responses we give or receive.
Because,
What’s love if it’s not attuned to the unique needs and perceptions of those you care about? And vice versa?
STAY BAKE!
Exactly, love that is not attuned to the unique needs and perceptions of those we care about is not love, especially when they are verbalised with a touch of subtle hints here and there.
Loving oneself and others goes down to how intentional we are and choose to be. It is well.
Thank you for this baking. You see us, you hear us and that is beautiful ❤️