Omo Baba Dough

That’s my mum 78 years old and my older sister who celebrated her birthday yesterday. Can you see the resemblance? It’s striking!

Ini Mfo Kedi (Your Time is Coming)
Part 2

Happy New Year once again, ye all.

Remember from the first part of this series that my dad let me know—codedly—that every man needs to live responsibly and be ready for responsibility. That involves taking charge, taking care of his family, and others' life may bring his way.

I was in Primary 3B at Sacred Heart Private School, Ring Road, Ibadan—Akinyemi Way, Ring Road—when one of the Primary 3 teachers, Uncle Esan, introduced the Boys’ Scout. I wanted to join badly.

In fact, I joined before talking to my father about it. We were allowed to join briefings, drills, and parades initially in m***i until the grace period was coming to an end.

The whole Boy Scouts kit would cost just 10 naira. I was bewildered that afternoon when my dad told me he didn’t have 10 naira to spare. I threw a tantrum that afternoon; my dad noticed but ignored me.

Later that evening, he told me a story—the story of a bird that killed its mother.
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The bird was eager to celebrate its age-grade ceremony, a festival that would usher it into adulthood. So it went into the forest to gather waterleaf. It fetched so much that the pile was high, and it was satisfied with its labour and achievement.

But by the time the mother finished cooking, the waterleaf was not as much as the bird thought it would be. The bird was very disappointed and hounded and beat its mother to death, thinking it was sabotage.

The bird then gathered friends, and together they got much more waterleaf—ten times the size it gathered at first. Of course, this time it had help. The bird and its friends started cooking, but while they cooked, they noticed vapour rising from the pot. They wondered why.

When they opened the pot to check, the waterleaf that had filled the pot was barely halfway. An argument ensued, and a fight broke out. As they fought fiercely, wounding and killing some birds, an older bird flying by stopped to ask the reason for the commotion.

The bird thanked the elder and narrated the reason for the fight.

The elder was quiet for a while. He then asked if they noticed vapour from the pot while they cooked. They affirmed that they did.

He asked for the name of the vegetable, and they chorused, “Waterleaf.”

The elder then explained that the water in the vegetable was the vapour they all saw evaporating, not that anyone had stolen anything.

The bird was so sad that it flew high up a tall tree and started shouting, “How? How? How?” till this day. The bird my father was referring to here is the crow.

Look out for the crow—it’s still shouting “How, how, how” to this day.

My dad then reiterated his cliché, “ini mfo kedi,” meaning your time is coming. He mentioned how I felt he had not been a good provider, but I forgot that the children of the poor don’t attend that type of school. He scolded me for being blind to the privilege I had—being able to attend that school and enjoy such high-powered social capital.

He told me that when I became a father, I would look back and give him kudos. We had a tradition of buying one Ladybird book every Saturday. That weekend, he got me one on Sir Robert Baden Powell, the founder of The Boy Scouts.

I have been a father for about 28 years, and I am a grandfather by the grace of God. I have an adorable and quintessential granddaughter with attitude and steeze. I have paid bills nonstop for close to thirty years and counting, and I take care of four elderly family members aged between 73 and 85.

I now understand better. Today, I know better.

I have said several no’s to my children, especially my sons. I still said no to my first son two days ago.

Remember: ini mfo kedi—YOUR TIME IS COMING.

Are you prepared?

That’s my mum 78 years old and my older sister who celebrated her birthday yesterday.

Can you see the resemblance?

It’s striking!

It’s my big sister’s birthday today.

And memories from our childhood keep flooding my heart.

Amazing memories.

She was nicknamed ’kòkúmó’ meaning ‘rejuvenated’.

She took ill and had to go under the knife. We almost lost her.

I never saw my dad Shed a tear ever, but during this time, my dad wept uncontrollably.

I joined him to weep, no one consoled us. We both got tired of crying, wiped out eyes and my dad said “No! She won’t die!”

That was the verdict, affirmed, sealed by the Hosts of Heaven.

She’s here today. It’s over 40 years this happened. We are grateful.

Or is it when she got shot at a funeral?

Shot at the jaw! The bullet hit her there! And had to go thru a surgery to remove the bullet!

She still carries these scars. The scars of life. Scars that tell emotional stories.



❤️

Today, 29th December, my older sister is plus one. Women don’t like anyone exposing their ages to the public.

She was born during the civil war. When soldiers fought fiercely, my dad and mum were busy sweating it out in ‘za oza room’. 😊

She’s a serial entrepreneur, proprietress, OAP of repute, Princess Helen.

We all had a very rough childhood, moments of joys, laughter, teary eyes, fears and times where we hugged and wept hot tears

Today, we look back in retrospect and look up in gratitude.

Thank God Almighty for his mercies and grace. As you proceed to your diamond jubilee in a few years, I pray that you age gracefully.

I ask that you’re blessed exponentially, wealth and health will be the combo you will be served.

Dr. Helen Abiodun, I’m proud of you. God bless you and your family .

Ini mfo kedi - Your Time is Coming Part 1

The blade my dad used with this shaving stick was Nacet, the logo the trademark was a crocodile.

I remembered rubbing sprit on my jawline to induce hair growth on my beard.

My dad would look at me and smile; he would say in Efik “ini mfo kedi “ meaning; your time is coming.

And I remember vividly at age 12, I showed him hair in my armpits and in my p***c, he didn’t smile this time, he looked at me and said “your time is very close!!!

Today, I’m a grandfather to the glory of God, been paying family bills for almost 30 years nonstop, no leave, no transfer.

Now I gerrit!

Ingenious!

Happy New Year in advance

🎉Feliz año nuevo 2026 les desea la comunidad Off Road de Nuevo León 🪅 📍La Huasteca N.L. México 🇲🇽

I once said in one of my stories that my dad hardly flogged. In fact he flogged me only twice in his life time.

Contrary to what you’re thinking, we were not spoilt kids. Our father had a way with his mouth, he never raised his voice.

He never spoke when he was angry.

One of the days I was naughty, my dad made me sing from the Catholic Hymn Book, Trust and Obey.

As a norm, anytime I behaved badly, apart from the fact that he would remind me what my name Christopher meant, he would make me sing the hymn Trust and Obey.

When we walk with the Lord
In the light of his Word
What a glory he sheds on our way,
While we do his good will
He abides with us still………

Chorus: Trust and Obey,
For there’s no other way
To be happy in Jesus
But to trust and Obey.

He will make me repeat the chorus several times.

And most times, I will sing is with tears, remorsefully.

I would feel so sorry for my misbehaviour.

And when that ‘devil’ that love to tempt children whispers to me again, I would sing the hymn Trust and Obey.

To our neighbors back on the day who are my friends, who might possibly be reading this story today,

If you ever remembered me singing this hymn, I was simply saying, get ther behind me satan!

What is your coping strategy when you’re tempted to do wrong?

Would you want to share?