It was my last year in school. A tiny voice within me whispered, "Jay, you are in this category."
How dare you? I swore under my breath during the same class. Every time I reflect on that moment, I just can't help laughing. Truly, I have not been so much involved in the health sector until lately when I started writing health articles to bring my 'prodigal self' closer to home.
This year, I promised myself to put my thoughts in prints and have people read them amidst giggles, anger, laughter and tears. So, I proceeded to have Ekwensu's Harvest in prints.
Have you read it?
Reviews and encomiums have been pouring in. I wouldn't lie that I have not been happy about that feat. However, I was most bothered about how to attract another reader into my fold of avid readers.
No, it's not Dangote, Otedola or Soyinka. It's my father.
I and my father have often had 'not-too-pleasurable' situations as a result of writing. He called it a 'waste of time.' After the publishing of Ekwensu's Harvest, I could not show him the work. I was not certain of what reaction I 'd get till last week.
I had made up my mind to give him a copy irrespective of what he thought.
I remember getting home and after roaming around the house for a while. I walked into the living room and met him burrowed in his newspaper.
"Dad!" I called out.
"Hmmmm!" There was a grunt. He hesitated then lifted his face to meet mine. I placed his copy into his palm and watched his face for a reaction.
His reaction was a shock, a sudden unexplainable calmness and then a smile when he looked at the author's name.
"When did you do this?" He enquired.
I responded. His smile still lingered.
It didn't end there for me. I wanted to know if the smile was superficial. So, I waited till morning to see if what the night had birthed was real.
The next morning was Sunday. I was getting set for church when I heard a knock on my door.
"Daddy, Good morning!"
"Uhumm! Kedu?" He said peering into my face for perhaps some kind of reaction. I figured out he had seen what he wanted. Our awkward silence most times speaks a lot of words.
"I am hoping to read your next book this year, okwa ya?"
I nodded. He smiled and one thing was sure that I had gotten the avid reader I wanted.
It is not in our place to force people to believe in us. When they don't, it is not their fault neither is it ours. Our fault lies in putting in the work to give them something to believe in even without being cajoled.
Share your thoughts about this piece with me in the comment section. I look forward to reading from you.
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