Some weeks ago (two weeks to be precise) my 7 year old nephew
unwittingly locked himself in his room. Now, before we proceed, it's imperative
that I describe the type of door. You guys know these so called security doors
that lock in 3 different ways which includes turning the key twice plus a knob
that also ultimately locks the door...good, that type of door.
So he's locked in but no one knows because we're adults doing our
thing (basically we were all watching tv...telemundo was on) anyway, fast
forward to 7pm it's now bath time. Where was Patrick (that's his name).
We didn't need to search long because as soon as none of us could
open a particular door including his mum, we freaked out. Come and see how we
frantically raced outside to the windows which were thankfully open.
"Papa! Papa!" We all screamed nna the boy no gree wake up.
I could understand his mother's panic as she screamed the loudest to wake him
up as I began to imagine newspaper headlines of the worst kind. We must have
hollered for a good thirty minutes before he groggily awoke.
Now comes the ghen ghen part. "Papa, open the door!" All
irritated we gave command. The child stood up, went to the door and....
He couldn't open the door. (Hian WHAT) "papa, turn the knob
like this." We were all making hand gestures and by we I mean my aunt who
came in from benin and her daughter, myself, Patrick's mum, the nannys 2 of em,
my mother and finally the gateman.
Picture us na, we all had torches (remember it was night time) the
gateman was shining, I was shining and Patrick's mum was shining her's all, on
that blasted door knob. Patrick couldn't turn it to save himself. We would
gesture wildy the way to turn it open, Patrick would mimic us by making hand
gestures in the air at us we would scream crazily in agreement
"yes!yes!" with hope in our eyes and determination in his, he'd turn
to the door and "gabadaya" the knob wasn't budging.
We'd now been outside for an hour and I decided when all else fails
try God. I got my anointing water and prayed on "papa's hand, anointed it
and said in the best prophet Elijah voice I could muster, "go and open
that door!"
Make una follow me laugh abeg as Patrick went back and the door
remained as it was meanwhile, the pikin no know say wahala dey so we tried
threats.
"You won't eat oh! You won't see tv again oh! Even school you
won't go again you will live there forever!" Abeg make I no bore you,
nothing worked. Then my mum suggested we break the little sealed window where
Patrick's toilet was which is inside the house we all trooped in to find the
glass thicker than anything, then the Hausa gateman suggested unscrewing it
since there were screws on it. I quickly had that done. Who would crawl through
became the next quest. I am orobo, my mum was a definite no no and so was my aunt
which left her lovely long legged and oh so slim daughter who quickly agreed to
it. Giving her a boost became an issue (if it ain't one thing it's another) I
quickly told one of the nannys to get the highest stool she could find. That
done, Patrick's mum insisted on being the one to go through because the drop
into the toilet was long. No one argued with her. She made it through with some
effort injuring herself in the process but she did get that door open and
Patrick came out all doe eyed and innocent but i'll never forget what that
moment taught me. TEAMWORK, WORKS!
It doesn't quite end there, I voiced out what I'd learned pointing
out our various tribes there was Edo, Delta, Yoruba, Ibo, Uyo, Calabar and
Hausa to which my aunt summarized... One Nigeria. Together, we can. And the
crowd goes awwwwwwwww :)
Written by Dawn W.
Dawn W is a quirky creative writer who dabbles in broadcasting with a background in law. She's sassy, fierce highly opinionated with a heart of gold. Often times nuts but still with a heart of gold.
Twitter:@charmmcaster
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