Somewhere in Ibadan
Feb. 25, 2015
You were a year old last week. It would have been great to attend the shindig I imagine your Dad and Mum pulled off for you, but I was incarcerated in my room. It was that insistent bugger, sleep; got me half-dead half the day… wonder what I ever did to deserve such, except work about 20 hours or more every day during the week? I was going to attend the party wearing something chic. Sadly, like most things, ‘chic’ is relative these days. Your Dad would probably have bugged me about not looking “hawt”… does anyone know what the word means, what it really really means? Anyway, I was going take a picture of me kissing you to giggles (your dad says you are too young as yet to be blowing me kisses). I was also going to make your Dad steal your Mum someplace to plant kisses of his own so I could steal that kiss because, according to your Dad, I would need your Mum’s permission before I could go planting giggly kisses- or kisses of any sort- on you. And seeing as I can be bohemian well…. Then of course I would have waited till you were all grown, handsome, and breaking a heart or two to show you the picture someday you were feeling macho *winks*. It was a swell plan; do you not think? Unfortunately of course, sleep decided that day was time good as any to keep me stuck to my bed.
I don’t know how you would grow, but I know you would be bred. You would have some of the most awesome Uncles, Aunts, family friends and the legion of people who would adore you so much it would sometimes be scary. They would be awesome because, well, I am one of them; and I am one of the worst… that’s how fabulous your parents roll. It would sometimes be scary because they are most times too intelligent for most people and you are, well, Samuel’s son, first seed of his loins. That makes you a leader. You would not be expected to reason on the same plane as your mates. Matter of fact, you would be invited to dine with the elders. They would teach you to wash your hands, teach you to listen, teach you to speak… even teach you to not always eat even when the food is placed right in front of you. They are people like that.
Duke, when you grow, the day you get to read this, never forget one thing: beyond everything that would surround you, you are Duke Ushimke Oluwademilade Otoyo. You Are. You Exist. You have weight, you occupy space… YOU MATTER! Why am I bothering to write this when I can just wait till you are older and join the bespoke league of people telling you? So that you would know that you are something; that you have meant something since you were a baby who only cried, smiled, ate, slept…. Since you were an earthling who only responded to stimuli. You were great even then.
Greatness, you see Duke, is from within. And it’s in you.
Aunty ‘Dupe Kuku