Ah, the trials and tribulations of being a Nigerian child – a unique blend of cleverness, mischief, and an unending quest for survival against the formidable forces of parental authority. If you’ve ever been a Nigerian kid, you know the struggle is real, but also hilariously relatable. Here’s a look at the classic conundrums we faced growing up, from the art of ‘eyeing’ to the covert operation of meat heists.
The Art of ‘Eyeing’ Your Mom
Every Nigerian child has perfected the art of the ‘eyeing’ – that intense, almost telepathic stare you give your mom when she’s preparing your favorite meal. It’s a desperate, wide-eyed look that says, “I promise I’ll be good if you let me have just one piece of that deliciousness.” The ‘eyeing’ process involves intricate facial contortions and a silent plea that only a mother’s heart can decipher.
Imagine your mom is cooking up a storm: spicy jollof rice, succulent chicken, and those irresistible plantains. As the aroma wafts through the house, you’re strategically positioned in the kitchen, armed with your best ‘please’ face. The eyes you give her are so intense, they could melt ice. Yet, your mom, with the steely resolve of a seasoned general, pretends not to notice. The struggle is real, folks, but so is the power of persistence.
The Sneaky Meat Theft
Ah, the legendary meat heist – every Nigerian child’s rite of passage. It’s a covert operation involving stealth, precision, and the occasional guilt trip. The mission? To steal a piece of meat from the pot without getting caught. The stakes are high, and the consequences dire if you’re caught in the act.
Here’s how it usually goes down: you know your mom has cooked up a feast and that the pot is full of juicy, delectable pieces of meat. Your stomach growls in anticipation, but you know that asking directly would result in a stern “no” or worse, the infamous lecture on “eating too much.” So, you devise a cunning plan. When you’re sure no one is watching, you sneak into the kitchen, armed with a spoon or, if you’re feeling particularly brave, your bare hands.
The stealth mode involves a series of calculated moves: tiptoeing into the kitchen, opening the pot just enough to reach in, and quickly withdrawing your prize before anyone hears the telltale clink of the pot. You then scurry off to your secret hideout, savoring your ill-gotten gains with the delight of a pirate discovering treasure.
The Battle of the TV Remote
Another classic struggle was the great TV remote war. Growing up, the remote control was like a precious artifact, fiercely guarded and often the subject of epic family battles. As a child, you had to outwit your siblings, dodge the prying eyes of your parents, and devise clever schemes to get control of the TV.
Whether it was sneaking into the living room to change the channel during your dad’s soccer match or convincing your mom that you really needed to watch that new cartoon, the remote was your ticket to victory. The struggle was real, and the tactics were many – from strategic negotiation to outright subterfuge.
The Unpredictable ‘Aunty’
The Nigerian ‘Aunty’ is a unique species in the family ecosystem – the one who has a seemingly supernatural ability to show up at the most inconvenient times. You’d be in the middle of a carefully planned mischief, only to hear the dreaded words, “Aunty is coming to visit.” This means you’d have to switch gears from ‘playing’ to ‘acting right’ and pretend you’re the most well-behaved child in the universe.
The ‘Aunty’ often brings unsolicited advice, comments about how you’ve grown (sometimes to a point that makes you wonder if they have a magnifying glass), and a lot of expectations that you’ll be on your best behavior. The struggle lies in balancing your genuine self with the polished version you’re required to present in front of her.
The Final Boss: Homework
Let’s not forget the final boss of childhood – homework. Every Nigerian child knows the drill: you come home from school, only to be bombarded with a mountain of assignments. It’s the ultimate test of endurance and creativity. From finding excuses to procrastinate to the frantic last-minute cramming session, homework is a formidable adversary.
Your battle strategy involves mastering the art of distraction – “I’m just checking if the cat is okay” – and negotiating for extra time. If all else fails, there’s always the classic move: working on homework while sneakily watching TV or playing games.
So, there you have it – the epic struggles of being a Nigerian child. From perfecting the ‘eyeing’ technique to conducting covert meat operations and surviving the homework gauntlet, we’ve all been through it. Each struggle, though challenging, is a rite of passage that shapes us into resilient, resourceful adults who look back and laugh at the wild adventures of our childhood.
