What's your earliest memory of your parent doing or saying something that disappointed you as a child?
What's your earliest childhood memory of disappointment from your parents?
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I was six years old. I had taken a knife in my right hand, and a tuber of yam in the left, while attempting to slice the yam by moving both arms in opposite directions. I sliced my thumb, there was blood everywhere.
I screamed in pains. My dad dashed in, grabbed me, threw me into his car and soon we were at St. Michael's, the nearest hospital to our home.
He walked briskly into an empty reception, with me cradled in his arms. A nurse walked towards us, made us sit down, while she went off to get the doctor. My dad kept glancing from my face and thumb towards the corridor the nurse disappeared through.
After a few minutes that must have felt longer to him, he got impatient. My dad picked me up and sprinted out of the reception. Soon, we were driving down to our family doctor's clinic, which was not too far away, but Dr Jobarteh's clinic was brimming with patients. He looked around for a few seconds, shook his head disappointedly, and soon we were back at the empty reception at St Michael's hospital.
The nurse walked up to my dad. "By the time I got the doctor here, you were gone. What happened?"
Without really looking at her, my dad blurted out. "We forgot something at home. Can we see the doctor now?"
I looked up at him bewildered, and for a second almost doubted what I knew about where we went to, which was Dr. Jobarteh's clinic.
It eventually dawned on me that my dad had told a lie, an act I didn't imagined he was capable of doing, especially as it was something we were taught to never do because it was bad. I was confused and disappointed.
I'm now in my 30s and over the years, my mind would wander to that incident, but I never discussed it with my dad.
Few months ago I brought it up. He (said he) couldn't remember.
I screamed in pains. My dad dashed in, grabbed me, threw me into his car and soon we were at St. Michael's, the nearest hospital to our home.
He walked briskly into an empty reception, with me cradled in his arms. A nurse walked towards us, made us sit down, while she went off to get the doctor. My dad kept glancing from my face and thumb towards the corridor the nurse disappeared through.
After a few minutes that must have felt longer to him, he got impatient. My dad picked me up and sprinted out of the reception. Soon, we were driving down to our family doctor's clinic, which was not too far away, but Dr Jobarteh's clinic was brimming with patients. He looked around for a few seconds, shook his head disappointedly, and soon we were back at the empty reception at St Michael's hospital.
The nurse walked up to my dad. "By the time I got the doctor here, you were gone. What happened?"
Without really looking at her, my dad blurted out. "We forgot something at home. Can we see the doctor now?"
I looked up at him bewildered, and for a second almost doubted what I knew about where we went to, which was Dr. Jobarteh's clinic.
It eventually dawned on me that my dad had told a lie, an act I didn't imagined he was capable of doing, especially as it was something we were taught to never do because it was bad. I was confused and disappointed.
I'm now in my 30s and over the years, my mind would wander to that incident, but I never discussed it with my dad.
Few months ago I brought it up. He (said he) couldn't remember.
Notable Reply
I wasn't particularly disappointed with him, I was disappointed in the fact that I saw him struggle for the first time and it would forever change my life.
My dad is my number 1 hero. He was By far the smartest, kindest, meekest and hardest working person in my life. He was also very handsome, eloquent, witty and had a super cool job! He stopped working when I was 15, I was in my first year in the university at the time. I was used to not seeing him often because he worked in a different state, and his job required him to travel a lot so he could be in Germany this week and the following week he could be in the US. I always wished to have a job as cool as that when I got older. One day, all that changed. I started seeing him around a lot, infact he never left home... lol. I wasn't bold enough to ask why he was always at home. He made a futile attempt to hide the facts from myself and my brother but I was old enough to figure it out, he had lost his job.
He really loved his job and of course we had to adjust our lifestyle since money was now in short supply... took a toll on him. I saw my hero struggle for the first time, I saw him lose pieces of himself day in day out, till this day. I hated the fact that he gave up so easily and just settled with being nothing. He is damn too smart to have settled for this life, sitting around, tying wrapper doing nothing but collect house rent? I hated that. Most of all, I was disappointed to learn that my dad was actually human (not the super hero mutant I thought he was) and could go through the same mundane stuf that every other human goes through.
It scared me. Imagine your 5 year old self learning that santa is actually your neighbour wearing a costume? Yeah? That's how it felt.
My dad is my number 1 hero. He was By far the smartest, kindest, meekest and hardest working person in my life. He was also very handsome, eloquent, witty and had a super cool job! He stopped working when I was 15, I was in my first year in the university at the time. I was used to not seeing him often because he worked in a different state, and his job required him to travel a lot so he could be in Germany this week and the following week he could be in the US. I always wished to have a job as cool as that when I got older. One day, all that changed. I started seeing him around a lot, infact he never left home... lol. I wasn't bold enough to ask why he was always at home. He made a futile attempt to hide the facts from myself and my brother but I was old enough to figure it out, he had lost his job.
He really loved his job and of course we had to adjust our lifestyle since money was now in short supply... took a toll on him. I saw my hero struggle for the first time, I saw him lose pieces of himself day in day out, till this day. I hated the fact that he gave up so easily and just settled with being nothing. He is damn too smart to have settled for this life, sitting around, tying wrapper doing nothing but collect house rent? I hated that. Most of all, I was disappointed to learn that my dad was actually human (not the super hero mutant I thought he was) and could go through the same mundane stuf that every other human goes through.
It scared me. Imagine your 5 year old self learning that santa is actually your neighbour wearing a costume? Yeah? That's how it felt.
Notable Reply
Twenty years ago, I attended a secondary school in Lagos, Nigeria. This happened in the first term of Senior Class 2. Two students in my glass (twin brothers) began coming to school every day with a bunch of very explicit magazines that they sold after class. At some point, their 'business' began to really boom they would have to sneak back home during school hours to meet demands.
One day, during a Chemistry class, the teacher caught one of their customers in our class, was caught viewing his purchase. After a quick interrogation, he revealed the suppliers, and the twins had their stash of dirty magazines seized. They were also suspended from the school for a term, (although they never returned after the suspension was over).
Just before the easter holidays. I stumbled across some really well-hidden and obviously-read magazines in the driver's seat of my parent's car. I recognised them instantly. They were the same stash that were seized few months earlier by my Chemistry teacher, who is also my dad.
My father didn't destroy the magazines like he pretended he did, but he kept them for himself. And it took a little while for that to sink in. There was the disappointment that my dad who was a strict, disciplinarian, respected by everyone in my school, including the teachers, and was a role model to me in every way, had a stash of pornography. No just that, there was the disappointment that he had stolen them from his students.
I pulled out the rest of the magazines, there were 16 of them, and I marched into the house to confront my dad.
Even though I was ultimately glad I did, at the moment, I almost wished I didn't confront him. It was painful to watch him so humbled and embarrassed. (Which father wouldn't, with a disappointed teenage daughter who completely adored you, waving a bunch of dirty magazines in their face).
Like I said, I was glad I did, as he genuinely apologised and even reported himself to my mum, which was a relief as I was afraid, he would make me hide it from her. The incident however irreversibly changed how I perceived my father, who before then, to my childish mind was infallible.
One day, during a Chemistry class, the teacher caught one of their customers in our class, was caught viewing his purchase. After a quick interrogation, he revealed the suppliers, and the twins had their stash of dirty magazines seized. They were also suspended from the school for a term, (although they never returned after the suspension was over).
Just before the easter holidays. I stumbled across some really well-hidden and obviously-read magazines in the driver's seat of my parent's car. I recognised them instantly. They were the same stash that were seized few months earlier by my Chemistry teacher, who is also my dad.
My father didn't destroy the magazines like he pretended he did, but he kept them for himself. And it took a little while for that to sink in. There was the disappointment that my dad who was a strict, disciplinarian, respected by everyone in my school, including the teachers, and was a role model to me in every way, had a stash of pornography. No just that, there was the disappointment that he had stolen them from his students.
I pulled out the rest of the magazines, there were 16 of them, and I marched into the house to confront my dad.
Even though I was ultimately glad I did, at the moment, I almost wished I didn't confront him. It was painful to watch him so humbled and embarrassed. (Which father wouldn't, with a disappointed teenage daughter who completely adored you, waving a bunch of dirty magazines in their face).
Like I said, I was glad I did, as he genuinely apologised and even reported himself to my mum, which was a relief as I was afraid, he would make me hide it from her. The incident however irreversibly changed how I perceived my father, who before then, to my childish mind was infallible.