Doleful Experience

Practical took me on a voyage of a year, but I turned it into two. Dad warned me to come back, to seek his help, but I stubbornly followed my own path—the path of pain, sorrow, jealousy, and sickness. I refused to acknowledge the suffering I endured, running helter-skelter for the profit of a man who, after a year, discarded me without a second thought. All the while, my father was at home, hustling and praying for his children to become successful.

Had I known, I would have spent that year with my father, working tirelessly by his side and securing a better future. Had I known, I would have gone home and made my parents smile instead of wasting my time on an ungrateful man.

The pain and suffering I endured for someone who never valued me could have instead been used to build new apartments for my family, to buy vehicles of happiness for my siblings.

What did I do to deserve such merciless judgment? Was it not my first mistake? Why didn’t you seek wisdom before sending me down a road with no helper? This is why the Yoruba call you ENIYAN — because you are unpredictable, capable of great kindness but also unspeakable cruelty.

A painful experience, yet a redeemer. “Your service is no longer needed. Pack your things and go,” they said, casting me out like a piece of trash, sending an innocent boy to the road of disgrace and shame. Àmọ̀ní sẹ́ni, kò ní fìlẹ̀ mi ṣe ibùgbé.

My co-workers baked the cookies of misfortune, and I ate them, unaware they were poisoned to get me fired. Never trust the anointed blindly, for they can send you to hell in the very name you call upon with them. We ate together, slept under the same roof, I favored them in all ways, yet they repaid me with wickedness. Deep down, I was a fool.

But I will not bow because I am right. I would rather leave than remain in the company of evildoers who destroy with smiles and affirm my wrongs with their deceit. In the day of darkness, I chose to stay until the light came.

Just when the light was about to shine on me, you snuffed it out—like a gas flame that once warmed your food but was no longer needed. Eniyan á búdi yàn yàn-àn.

Yet, there is truly light at the end of the tunnel. Family—in the day of sorrow, in the day of joy, in the day of hunger, in the day of plenty. Family—in moments of weeping and moments of laughter. The only true foundation, the ones whose love does not change. Their hearts are unshaken, their DNA cannot be erased. They did not see me as a prodigal son but as Omobowale—the child who has returned home.

Never forget the water that bathed you on your first day. A parent’s prayers are an unending glory.

Sage