Tag - Sibling

1
Oniovo: 10
2
Baby Walakolombo

Oniovo: 10

There used to be 10 of us: Four girls and six boys. Picture growing up with this number of siblings; sufficient brothers to protect you, and just enough sisters to bond and be mischievous with. Now we’re nine, and the males still outnumber us by one. Cue our family portrait. 10 cheeky offspring grinning from ear to ear, and two parents smiling through the crowd. Then a shadow glosses over one of us, blanking out his image. Rest in power and peace, bro. Before the term ‘blended’ came to be, we were the visual attestation of it. Our mum, a widow, with four children. Our stepfather, a widower, with four of his own as well. They were also both ihwo Urhobo; their villages not very faraway from each other. Their native content was even a perfect match too – 99.9%. Coincidence? ajo, OboOghene. Together, they doubled the amount of competition and camaraderie amongst us, and went ahead to add two more offspring (a gender each) to douse that fire, rounding us off to a neat number 10. With this many people dwelling together – different personalities, unique perspectives, peculiar habits – surely it resulted in stifling accommodation, and less personal space per individual. Actually, no. Our three- bedroom bungalow was expansive (save for the kitchen). The living room was sectioned into two different ones because the space allowed for it; and there was a two – bedroom boys’ quarters at the back of the building, where all the males lived. The age differences between us children influenced our presence at home. By the time the blending took place, our stepfather’s children were teenagers while our mum’s were much younger. Diverse levels of education kept us apart too, and it was a rare occasion to have all ten of us present at the same time at home. At any given period, there were four to six of us at home; most of whom were our mum’s. However, it didn’t deter the bonding, the bickering, the fights, the fondness or the rivalry amongst us. We were, after all, siblings, and that’s what siblings do – whether from”more

Read More

Baby Walakolombo

In the middle of the night after feeding Chairman, if I thought he was going to go right back to sleep, I was so wrong. He burps, waits for me to lay him down on the bed before saying ‘Baby, baby.’ That’s when I know it might be a looong, middle of the night. The hook of Alex Zitto’s Baby Walakolombo became his soothing song while he was still less than a year old. It popped out of my mouth the day before his naming ceremony, and has since been a hit with him as well as all family members – nuclear and extended. For T, the following words – Toluwani o/ I beg you, don’t cry o/ Toluwani, wani/… — sang to the tune of Olufunmi by Styl – plus got her attention. Until my beau stopped me from singing it, saying he didn’t quite like the original words of Olufunmi which were what he heard every time I rendered T’s version.  I replaced it with Chris Mba’s Baby Don’t cry as imported from my elder brother’s house. Imagine his two year old singing it to her baby sibling! Now that I think of it, why didn’t I ever use conventional baby songs or lullabies for my children? Maybe because I don’t know any. And I can almost say the same for some of my siblings! The earliest baby song I can remember went thus: ayodele o / ma suku mo/ ma sha e so/tu ba go no ba ba ba/…or something to that effect as coined by my neighbour for her first son. By the time my younger siblings came along, I used any R & B tune that was the rave for me at the time. Luther Vandross’s hits featured prominently. Small wonder this accompanied me into motherhood. Though my mum had some traditional songs that did the trick some times. Now, that’s a thought. ‘Mummy?’ A tiny voice in the dark brings me back to the present [night]. ‘Baby, baby,…’ The voice repeated in a sing song. Yep. Confirmed. I was in for it. ‘Baby, baby,”more

Read More

Copyright © 2013. Idolors domain