… Dad had his favourite seat, everyone in the family knew that and no one sits there, it is as simple as that. This was the unspoken rule in our family, you just knew. When Dad gets back from work, this is where he plunks himself, settles in, reads the broadsheet, listens to the news, listens to the family, have his drink and most nights doze off before retiring to bed. Visitors are not allowed or should I say not expected to sit on Dad’s seat either. To prevent the unexpected happening, when a guest arrives and we suspect the unexpected might happen, we the kids always do a rehearsed little dance around the unsuspecting guest to prevent him plunking himself in the ‘wrong’ seat, and so far we have been successful and avert ‘disaster’. Our guest is usually steered to a more appropriate seat, once sitted the weird dance stops and all is good.
On one particular occasion, not sure if the kids were not around or we could not muster ourselves to do the dance. An unsuspecting guest sat in Dad’s seat! Now that was a visit I will not forget in a hurry, the poor soul got the ‘evil look’ all through his stay. We were still talking and doing everything we ought to do with our guest, but the whole family including Dad kept giving him the ‘how dare you sit there’ look! I am sure the poor soul could tell something was amiss. But if you don’t know, you don’t know. Dad had to sit some where else and he had the look of someone kitted out in the wrong size clothing.
Something else happened on another fateful day, Dad called that he was running 45 minutes or so late from work due to one thing or another. I had finished all my chores, homework was all done, face all cleaned and I found myself alone in the living room. My fellow partner in crime (siblings) were engaged in other crimal activities (such as messing up their bedroom) around the house. I was idle, we all know the saying about the idle hand! I stared at Dad’s seat, Dad’s seat stared back at me! There was a dilemma, should I? should I not? The allure was over powering, my little self cound not resist, I did the unthinkable, yes I did! I sunk my little frame into Dad’s seat!!!! And as I landed, suddenly everything made sense, the seat was comfortable at a level I did not know comfort existed. It was a bit on the big side, but not withstanding it was an eye opening, intensely enjoyable experience. I felt a combination of feelings at the same time, I felt powerful, protected, shielded, comfortable and of course naughty, the exhilaration of doing something I know I am not supposed to be doing. As I settled myself in, I warned myself that it must be a very brief visit and I must get up promptly but I found myself sinking deeper and deeper into the seat and drifting from one sweet day dream to another. I knew I had to get up before I was caught, the spirit was truly willing but the body was tremendously weak. I couldn’t help thinking about my normal seat which was until now satisfying and comfortable. In my mind, as I sat in Dad’s seat, my own seat felt inadequate, uncomfortable and unsuitable, I felt like a man that had eaten the forbidden fruit and is now doomed! I have knowledge and awareness now, the era of blissful ignorance is banished! As I muster every single strength in my little body and got out of Dad’s seat, I knew life would never be the same, my seat will never be as comfortable as before, I can not keep sneaking to sit at Dad’s seat either. There is only one thing to do, I must grow up, then one day, yes one day, which is a long distance away, I will become a Dad and I will have my Dad’s seat and I can sit in it without any guilt, but until then, I must find it in myself to be content with what is mine as I grow myself.
The plight of the diaspora is a very similar story. Whilst I will not get into how we have come to be in Dad’s seat. The fact remains, for some of us, even if it is not for all, that the comfortable seat we found ourselves in is not truly ours yet, we need to get back to our seat, do our own growing up and then we can legitimately occupy our own Dad’s seat. This is not about the individual who has already paid his due, but about the collective responsibility of a people to pay their dues.
For the diaspora, Dad is coming back home soon. Maybe it is time we start to adjust our mind to return to our own seat and know that the day will come when we can truly occupy that which no man can ask us to get up from.
This applies not just to the diaspora but to everyone that temporarily occupies ‘Dad’s seat’ whatever that might be or mean to us.
Let each man do his own growing up and then ocuppy!
Beautiful Ivory 