Barring Cloudy Conditions, The View Is Clearer When The Ascent Increases

The 24-hours Television broadcasting in the late 90s came with a new vice that families had to contend with at home. Asides the lax supervision my parents struggled to up owing to the reordering of sleep time, the economics of this new television culture was a more bigger problem. Ours was a large nuclear family with, of course, unavoidable extended family appendages who were either squatting, staying with us as urban migrants facing adaptation challenges, chief of which was housing or some relatives who my parents were obligated to care
give. So, at some point, the numbers were, on the average, 12 persons living in a 3 bedroom flat many of whom were dependents. My Dad became a super economist, Accountant and Store-keeper all in one. He monitored food consumption, and punished wastage of any kind.
Dinner was usually served between 6 to 8pm, 9pm was for the network news — a time we all must put up with Dad, not because we loved to. But, there was no other option. It was during such moments with Dad certain unexpected questions pop up. It could be a simple maths question, current affairs or some English concord error that he expects you to correct. You must be ready, as you may not predict his reaction should you fail.
After 10pm is our eureka moment. By Dad’s routine it was lights out, not ours. For us, the night just started. We would pretend to be asleep until Dad hits the dream world, then we would stealth into the parlour, turn on the television and enjoy Minaj late night movies. Our new habit took its toll on the bag of garri at home. It was the only available snack to stem midnight hunger. This increased the rate at which garri finished from the store. Dad noticed eventually, he complained, wailed and fought to stop the bad habit fuelling the careless depletion of scarce resources. It really never made sense to us why Dad should complain.
Today, I know better. Dad, I’m deeply sorry.
– Mazi Ejimofor Opara writes from Awka, Anambra State.








