warm day in june. i walk into my parents’ room at seven in the morning. i need their opinion on what to wear to church. i know they are up – they wake up every day at 5. mom is pacing on dad’s side of the bed. even though her ‘pissed-off mood’ usually lasts a few minutes, this is not a good sight, especially early this sunday morning. so, here i am watching this woman – well over six feet, dressed in a black nightdress, and muttering words that would make a sailor blush. it’s like watching a vexed bear in an enclosed space.
“are you ok?”
“your dad, i’m going to kill that –” then we hear the noise. a loud clatter, coming from their bathroom. one moment mom is talking to me, the next moment she in the bathroom. then i hear them laughing. moments later they appear through the bathroom door, mom has dad in a head-lock with her left arm, and is ruffling his hair with his hair-brush with her right hand. they are both laughing. i leave the room. we’ll learn later at breakfast that he had said he would stay at home and pray like he did last week, mom didn’t want him setting a bad example for us about the need to worship with others, then he said something about the pastor and an argument ensued. he went into the bathroom (just about the time i walked in) and deliberately dropped his hair-brush in the bathtub to make my mom think he had fallen. when she entered the bathroom, he was sitting on the edge of the bathtub laughing. just like that, their fight was over.
dedicated to my dad, Chief M.O. Omoregie, who passed away early this morning. a brother, a father and a friend from whom i learnt many subtle non-violent ways of resolving misunderstandings with your lover. a man who thought me to see life in images and metaphors, and to always see the positive in any situation. a man, to whom laughter was more than medicine. i guess, wherever you are right now, you see the funny side in your own passing. may your soul rest in perfect peace.