Learning Chores and Lessons the Hard Way

My mother owned a salon where my younger brother and I had the exciting job of stacking hair products, which we oftentimes treated like LEGO.

As eight and six year olds, our other duties were to help our mother open the salon and get things in their designated places for work, and when the day was over, we would pack them all up to lock them up, and then we would repeat the cycle the next day. Most of the cleaning duties, other than wiping dust off our LEGO pieces, were done by our mother herself, including sweeping and mopping.

There comes a time, however, when a kid enters some phases in their life and their levels of handling chores advance. It was that time for me, being the older brother. Little did I know that I was in for an adventure.

One night, when it was time to pack up and close the salon, I received a promotion. I was now assigned a new comrade in the army of cleaning services, and my new duty was to deploy appropriate weapons to battle dust spotted on the floor.

I thought I had it under control when I took the first strike with a broom. The general of that army, however, thought otherwise. She took the broom from me after my misfires and showed me the right way. I tried replicating it, but the next thing I heard was a thunder on my back.

It took several of those soothing strikes on my back to somewhat understand what she meant and what I was supposed to do. Apparently, there is a required angle of elevation at which the broom should be used against the floor to ensure efficient and effective sweeping. I probably should have been informed that there was a doctorate degree in mathematics required for this job.

The movie was over for the night, and we all got home to have dinner, but I cried a bucket of tears before going to bed, wondering, "What manner of life is this? The LEGO department isn't this dramatic."

We were to resume school afterwards. It was good and bad news for me. The good news was that I may be relieved of my duty at the salon for a while, which meant fewer thunder strikes, but the bad news for me was that I was going to resume school. I didn't like school work very much, especially because of the homeworks.

My mother always helped us with our homeworks by walking us through them. The thing, aside from doing them, that I didn't like was that it was often late at night after she got back from work.

However, I thought to myself, "There would be no working late at night on homeworks if there are no homeworks in the first place." So, I plotted an mischievous scheme.

The next day, my mother asked me for my homework, and my exact words were probably, "Mr. Ajayi did not give us homework today. I don't know why he didn't, but I am not happy." She then asked if I was sure, and I assured her that I was. All was well and good for the night.

The next night, way before dinner was ready, my mother gave me a very unusual task. She asked me to look under our longest couch and then bring whatever I find there. Unsuspecting Joe did as instructed, and, lo and behold, I found my homework right where I hid it. Realizing my cover was blown, I blinked and imagined I saw nothing there and reported that instead.

My mother left the kitchen and the cooking, and took me back to the crime scene. On the way, I was praying to my maker to make me disappear in that moment because I knew I was probably going to meet Him that night anyway.

My mother brought out something that looked familiar to me and asked me, the not-so-wise kid, "What is this that I am holding?" I am not sure what I was still thinking when I tried to deny my homework with my name on it, but I made her repeat the question. The next time, she added my traditional name. At that point, I knew it was the end of the world for me.

She took out her cane that was probably twice my height and asked me in to put my nose on it and smell it. After taking a deep sniff of the strokes of lightning that would follow, she whipped me till I was black and blue, and the next thing I knew was that I ran out of the house.

I had no where to run to as the gate to our compound was already locked for the night, so I just stood by the gate and cried to my maker, "My father, my father, why have you forsaken me?"

And after it dawned on me that I would still have to sleep in that circus, I retraced my steps back. What happened next surprised me, as it always did every time I was reprimanded.

She took me and hugged me. She pacified me to stop crying and be calm. She wiped my tears and hugged me even tighter. In my mind, I was confused if I had not already seen a lion a few minutes ago, and now I was seeing a lamb.

She then talked with me and told me what I did and how it was wrong. I was trying to be cunning and deceitful so I could be lazy. What an all-in-one recipe for such a reprimand I had received! She reassured me that she loved me, and I learned a good lesson.