SO YOU CALL YOURSELF A MAN?

Never ask a question whose answer you don’t need to make the next decision. (FD)

As I seat here before my word processing device thinking of what to put together. Pushing for the sentiments and sense to express; what someone said to me recently came to mind ‘until you marry, you remain a boy’ I looked at her and was on the verge of asking what word or definition she accords to the Papal, misogynists and other avowed celibates. My mind answered back; that those are extreme cases that do not fit the bill. And of course I was pushing for a more resolute and far reaching reason to excuse them from the selection but I had to just rest it at the fact that they can never be described or given as a typical man or representation of the male gender and expression, and I most definitely do not want it pursued now for our sakes and time limited space accorded me here.

Sincerely folks: Who is the man? Is he the one that drives the flashiest cars? That parades or shows off the trendiest of garbs or other physically arresting component available to the men-folk? Is he that person whose personality attests to his presence in his absence? Whose essence is not tied to a readily defined but possibly ephemeral manifestation? What even makes him the man? I beg to ponder all this someday but for now I suggest you and I to go make our inference and pull our own conclusions. I just want to suggest or spearhead our thoughts.

I know those things that assail me. Yeah! You may want to surmise them. As much as I will state at the risk of immodesty that I am not truly the average guy out there, I still feel we share a couple of concerns. You have concerns about those big dreams of yours. You probably want a big car; a mansion in the ‘choicest’ of areas, a fat bank account, a beautiful woman and all those other things just like me too but does that make us truly worthy of the term ‘Man’?

I remember my younger days. Whenever the vendor comes around with the day’s papers be it The Punch, This Day or the vanguard, as my dad decides to read. I used to claim them before he even gets to see the papers, just look unseeingly at the headline, then flip to the back page or back pages for the day’s sport stories. Of course, this sure used to irk my dad who feels I am being overly childish and uninspired. 

‘There are a lot of things happening around you and all you ever care about is the sport reports for the day ‘ I can almost hear him snort now. ‘Only God knows the kind of elders you young ones of today will become if you continue like this.’ Now this really gets me, so I have to force my devoted attention off the story of Solksjaer’s four goal a match antics and would have cursed (at least under my breath) except that I had none in my vocabulary then (still don’t).

‘I will most likely die early if I concern myself with Nigeria’s problem now’ I used to reply stiffly then ‘Let’s see how long you continue like this….’ He usually concludes with what I used to consider diatribes then, shrugs, seizes his paper and picks his favourite spot to get informed of Nigeria’s uninspiring story lines.

I had a very comfy back and forth, tit and tat line of communication with my pop, even at my teenage years then. I am free to express my mind and present my opinions. No matter how immature, biased, or even at times bigoted they are then. I guess my dad knew, that day will come that I will see for myself and without anybody’s poking realize that life goes beyond what happens in the premiership, the latest ‘baffs’ luxuries, or other listed pecks of life. Some never come to that realization, but every man worthy of being called that realizes in no time that for real, man is equal to responsibility. 

I still read newspapers from the back page even after decades on earth but I ponder what story is on that front page. Now, I get miffed and righteously indignant at all the madness and injustices around. I sometimes wish I could stump in to Abuja, send all them thieves out and off our National heritage like Christ cleansed and rid the temple of the den of thieves therein in days of old. Beyond the national concern and repugnant malaise, my daily thoughts goes beyond what I want to have, but how I am going to be what I should to my significant other, my family, my friends, my society, and all other linkages. I now know what I do here and now determine what happens to me here and the side I end up for eternity.

I now know that being a man goes beyond my deeper voice, facial hair, broader shoulder or other masculine features. It all dovetails and sums up to one word ‘responsibility’ Dad, I am not really an elder yet, but my nonchalance has given way to pragmatic brooding. While I know enough to not dwell on worries, how to be who I should to be able to be what I ought to be to all tied to me is more relevant to me now. While you didn’t take a Socrates or Aristotle like stance to put what I know now into my head, your examples and straight-forward way of putting things across has molded me into the responsible being I am and still becoming. I doubt your getting to read this anytime soon until I print it out and am able to take it to you but thanks for being a father in words and actions and not by autocratic and storge inducing pedagogies alone.

Happy Fathers day!