MY LIFE AT THIRTY : Episode 1 – 10

MY LIFE AT THIRTY

❤️ EPISODE 1 🧡

✍️……Written by Princess

My name is Abdulrahman, I was born some 31
years ago in Offa, Kwara state. Growing up was just like every normal child. We are just 3
with my parent, am in the middle and I have
an elder sister who is 3 years above while am
four years above my junior sister. I learnt from
my parent that the distance between me and
our last born was a bit much just because
they were not ready for another baby because of financial difficulties, they even contemplated at a time not to have another baby after me due to their financial
incapability then but since the pregnancy came in a mysterious way (The pregnancy
was already four month before my mum realized she was pregnant and they had no other option than to leave it as abortion is
totally against our faith).

The question that begged for answer was how were they doing it during that four years of no
pregnancy before they gave birth to Nimat is what i don’t know because i know my father
will never support family planning because of
his religious believe and he will never use c0ndom. I guess he used to eject his deek
whenever he is having s*x with my mum because I couldn’t explain it but who am I to
ask how they did it way back. All in all, we assume Nimat was born by mistake but there
was no regret.

My family was just an average family, we are not rich neither are we poor. My father who
was a state civil servant make sure we lack
nothing and my mother who was a trader in Owode market make sure she support my dad
whenever we need anything or lack something
in the house. It was a happy and homely family envious of everyone in our community.

We grew up in a staunch Islamic house, in fact
my mum used hijab likewise my sisters while
we were growing up. My father makes sure we
all combine our western education with
Islamic education as part of our growing up.

After coming back from school in the afternoon by 2pm, the next point of call is our
madrasa (Arabic school) from 4pm till 7pm every day. This means that we only have two
hours of rest everyday from 2pm till 4pm before going to Madrasa.

Even our weekend that is supposed to be a
form of a break for us is always tight,
madrasa is between 8am-2pm on Saturday
and Sunday but the other hours of the
weekend that suppose to be free for us is not
always free as such as my dad always make
sure we stay indoors, either reading our book
or reading the holy quran.

All i can say is that our house is like a military
barrack as there was no absolute freedom, the
fear of my father is the beginning of
comportment. You will never want my father
to meet you engaging in unwanted behaviour
as you will be done for. We all fear our dad
like something else but irrespective of that,
we still love him as most times he was our
confidant even to me that is a guy. We prefer
our dad who is so hard on us than our mum
that is soft hearten.

We were provided with basic necessary things
as our parent prefers to go on with hunger for
our optimum satisfaction. Our education (Both
western and Islamic) is total priority to our
parent and combination of both shaped our
humble beginning as we grew in our community.

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