Disciplined Upbringing: Koboko, Cable, Belt or Slippers???

I remembered the first “mono-sotto” I received from my Dad. That I saw the combination of all the galaxy inhabitants is no exaggeration, I assure you.

In case you are wondering what mono-sotto is, first of all (Olamide’s voice), it is a verb and an action word that can be defined as a doubled edged slap that leaves you in a temporary state of confusion. When it is administered on your person like a prescription drug which is usually in form of simultaneous slaps to the cheeks, you won’t know whether to laugh or cry, stand or sit, yell or keep mute and other confused expressions.

My offence? He kept a tin of peak milk which, unknown to me, he knew the exact content before leaving the house for his destination. 

Feeling rather smart and sleek with my James Bond swift move, I glided to the top of the fridge where all the provisions were usually kept and helped myself to a rather huge portion. As if that was not enough, I even helped myself to a bit of cereal too, using my father's precious Peak milk.

Like every erring child that has done something naughty prior to the parent's arrival back then in the olden days (Whatever! I still do not look my age) I began to feel a little bit of trepidation and serious tension when it was almost time for him to return. And as soon as I heard his famous knock on the door, I just knew I was going to come close to seeing my ancestors by the time he was through with me. 

My Father did not disappoint me or the heavenly bodies that encouraged parents not sparing the rod. The authors of the bible verse:  “Spare the rod” would have been proud. I think I still have the marks on my body if I really look closely.

Anyone who knew my father will know he probably read that version of the bible a bit too serious: Spare the rod and spoil the child, and vowed to make God proud by ensuring his children are not spared when they erred. I can assure you my father gave a new meaning to the word, Rod! (Ironically, that's his nickname, Rod).

At a point, my brother and I concluded his mission on earth was to make use of the stick as my father never communicated with his mouth or words. The mildest punishment you could get was probably an unexpected back hand slap. You know the kinds of slap that come out of the blues and usually accompanied with a knock? Yes, that’s the one. (I still maintain that those knocks are probably the reason I'm not tall) And it is only mild because you were not expecting it.

The greatest torture he made us go through was to let us know before he leaves home that he would be beating you when he comes back from work. Nothing was compared to the mental torture of knowing you would be flogged and going through the whole day knowing your night sleep would be in pains. At times, he would even come home for lunch and while serving him his meal in the most gracious and sweet way hopeful that he may revert the judgement, he would remind you by asking rather warmly, "Hope you have not forgotten I will flog you this evening when I return?” He would even go further to request of you to remind him in case he forgets. And when he comes back, he puts the weapon of torture (could be belt, cable or koboko) right beside his meal so that while you are serving him, you can see the koboko and anticipate the pain. I was never more religious as I was back then, praying either for rapture to occur before the cable finds its way to my back or that something miraculous happens and I had made several promises to God back then, should he stop the beating process. He never did. And I was not obligated to keep my own side of the promises too, since they were all made in distress.

His form of discipline was so unique in the sense that after beating the “madness” out of you, he would still tell you to wait so you can have dinner. He would then call you to ask whether you know the reason you were whipped. I then wondered why the admonishment did not come before the beating. I never asked him aloud though. My backs were usually still raw from the cable assault.

My mother on the other hand was more of a counsellor, in the sense that, by the time she is done talking to you, you will wish she had simply flogged you and let you go back to sleep. But she usually came in from the counsellor angle, wake you when everyone, including yours truly is asleep, and requests you join her in her room. And there, she begins the emotional torture. Most times, by the time she's done, I am weeping and all apologetic. And at times, I remained mutinous and unrepentant, which gave birth to another round of counselling.

Moral: If my mum does not make you shed tears while counselling, her speech will not be over. So if you want to sleep early, just ensure you weep on time so you can go back to bed.

And back then, you had no business being outside your house at any point in time except maybe dad sends you to the balcony or your parents come back from work and you are going downstairs to assist them in picking up stuff from the car. Going out of the door of your house was a taboo back then.

This is why I find it not only disconcerting, but heart-breaking when I hear in the news that young children were involved in accidents during school excursions or while playing outside their compounds.

Whaaaat? Excursion wetin? Excursion back then, was an activity which was reserved for children with parents who were probably out of the country and bringing up the excursion subject to your own folks in Nigeria was a taboo. It was even a sin for you to bring the paper of notification home from school. The only excursion we attended back then were the ones my father organised himself to the amusement park or to see our grandparents, in which they drove and we never left their sight. As for playing outside the compound, just sacrifice yourself to the heavenly bodies if you are caught anywhere outside your door as you will be as good as dead if your folks come back and you are not in front of the television,(which begins by 4:00pm back then) or you are having some school lessons and reading your book.

I also find it extremely troubling at the laxity children of today are being brought up. In those days, your parents could account for your movement because the only movement you dared to make then was from the living room-the kitchen-rest room-your room-living room and the cycle continues.

I will not even bother to go into details the repercussion that followed after eating outside your house and your mother finds out. Mothers have this look they give to children when outsiders offered them food. But after instantaneously surprising knocks and slaps as soon as the outsider is out of sight, kids back then picked up facial signs on when not to accept, even though her voice can be telling you to eat the meal being offered. So except she was personally spoon-feeding you, don’t do it or even stare at the meal hungrily. You will pay!!!

Seriously, the idea of taking things from people that are not your folks was simply ridiculous (cousins and family friends do not count I tell you). I even heard that some time ago, a child went deaf and dumb after such beatings was administered to him by his folks when they discovered he ate at the neighbours place. Yeah, eating outside your home was an unforgivable sin, except you do not mind the mono-sotto slap.

As for me, it was after I got to JSS class that I discovered belts and cables were actually not supposed to be objects of discipline but rather the belt was meant for trousers and cables belonged inside the wiring team of an electronic device.

As for holidays outside your home, thinking about it alone was considered an unforgivable sin, not to mention suggesting going over to spend a night outside your home. If you deem to mention wanting to spend some time outside your home, it will be automatically assumed you are not contented with what you have and back then, lacking contentment or showing any sign of greed was the greatest sin of all, which is tantamount to a back hand slap followed with a knock in the middle of your head (please refer to the above paragraph for more details on when these disciplinary applications are used). 

The other day, a news was published of a child that was killed by a bus that veered off from the road and in the process, the girl was killed. As soon as I heard the news, I was upset and rather disappointed in the parents. Such fatality could have been avoided if parents of today hold parenting in a much higher light. What we have of today is Facebook/BB parenting: parents coming out to show the latest designs their children are adorned in, posting pictures of children in lovely school uniforms(so we can know the school is an expensive one), and all other cyber parent-child love. 

In as much as what works for the goose may not generally work for the gander, time has shown that sparing the rod does not have favourable outcome. Our parents were a bit military in their discipline approach but it has shaped and sharpened us into what we are. Many of the 80's-90’s children were raised to be self-sufficient and contented with whatever situations we may find ourselves.

Despite all the varying forms of discipline, many of us still repeated the same erring act while growing and their kobokos were quick to remind us to desist, but gradually, as we aged, we let go of those things and we grew up in fear and awe of our parents. They earned our respect. And now that majority of us are parents, we look back and we thank God that disciplinary actions were taken out on us when we erred. That's why we are what we are today.

So for those children who grew up with parents that flogged with kobokos soaked in lukewarm water for days so as to strengthen the spiritual pain it will cause, mothers that used hangers pulled off its rack and whacked on every available part of your body, fathers that used belts that were pulled out from their trousers and just whip on the closest part of you it happily touched and the slippers our sweet mothers pull out to scare us but often times, never actually touch us since we got smarter and got to know how to evade the flying ones, I say and stand to be corrected, those were simply the best days of good upbringing.

Native words used within the article as defined by the author:

"mono-sotto"- as defined within the article.

“koboko” - object of pain to correct whatever evil/madness you may think is inherent.

"wetin"- native language meaning "What", however the native tone projects derision when it's being used.