IT DIARY: ENTRY 26

Fathers’ Day

Everyday, it becomes increasingly difficult to hold oneself back from giving sassy replies to those superiors who keep asking annoying questions and making annoying remarks; especially when they do it daily. It is even more so when you have those sassy replies in abundance popping up in your head. *sigh

“What is your name?”

“Emmanuel,” I sighed, knowing that’s not what he expected to hear.

“No, no, your other name…”

“Chidiuto”

“No,” he quickly cut in with all the excitement of a 5-year-old, “It is Chukwu-diuto. I’ve told you so many times, give me your father’s number so I can call him and tell him he gave you the wrong name. Chi can mean any god but Chukwu is the one true God we serve.” I’d heard this speech so many times I mumbled it flawlessly as he was reciting the words. It almost sounded like a broken record.

“Perhaps when you have another child or a grandchild, sir, you can give him this name ‘Chukwudiuto’ so you can stop losing sleep over another man’s name” was the reply I had in mind, but all I did was give half a smile and increase my pace. It didn’t help me…

“Wait, I’ve told you to cut this hair before. I don’t like the way your hair is bushy,” he said, determined to ruin my mood that afternoon.

“Well, I don’t like how bald you are either, but you don’t see me complaining about that and asking you to grow some hair”, but once again this was only in my head and I gave the remaining half smile in response.

“I’ll bring scissors tomorrow and cut this your hair,” was the last straw he pulled.

“I’d like to see you try,” I said this time, not knowing the words slipped my mouth. Luckily, I was out of earshot and I pretended not to hear him.

Walking away, I recalled having a similar encounter with a man in church who since he first saw me and thought I was a visiting Priest, has seized every opportunity to remind me I would make a good Reverend Father (or so he thinks). It was funny the first couple of times, but it’s grown less so since then.

“Give me your Father’s number so I call him. It’s not too late to send you to the seminary”. I looked at him, while trying to concentrate on the announcements being read by the catechist at the time.

I was going to say “Why not hold your peace and raise your kid to be that which you like so much about me, then send him to the seminary?”. However, I settled for, “It’s not my Father’s choice to make, sir”. I immediately regretted my politeness because he came back with a “No, no… It’s his choice, you’re still under him.”

It was at that moment I felt pity for his children, imagining the number of choices he’d force down their throats. I immediately started to appreciate one of my dad’s qualities; 98% of the time, he’s let us make our own choices. He rarely ever forced a choice down our throats and he let us make our own mistakes and grow.

Then I remembered it was Fathers’ day. I took out my phone and set a reminder. I’d call him immediately I got home.