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Interesting Story : "My Learning From The Left" By "Okunola Segun"

My parents had named me Daniel but I could
not make up calling it correctly due to some
phonological processes so I ended up calling
myself Dane which became what other
people called me. We only had two children
in our family; i’m the first born, and our
second and last born was named Rachael, a
girl.

One could easily fathom that our family
was a Christian one. We lived in a two-storey
building defended with flower. My parents
were teachers, strict and disciplinary,
therefore they injected the habit of behaving
well and reading hard in us.
It was already late in one night; the birds had
gone to their nest to rest; the goats had
returned from grazing land to journey the
land of rest. Well, my street had gained its
name, Surulere, and it had also been the first
street to dry up of voices of passers-by
except for the voices of some insects or
frogs around. Before the darkness began to
take over the earth, my father had arrived
home and met my mother cooking. We also
helped in the kitchen doing the cooking; we
were old enough_ I was eight and my sister
was four. One must say whenever it
happened to have cooked at eleven hour, my
mother would feel frustrated and lay some
anger on us.
We were done in the kitchen, my mother
shared the food, and my father asked us to
bring his food when it became cool but my
sister and I could not wait anymore therefore
we ate the food with its hotness. After we
had finished eating, we went outside to play
the moon which had already carpeted the
earth with its brightness.
Some minutes later, my father called us to
bring his food outside the house for him. I
made the arrangement for the food while my
sister made that of water. Well, my mother
had already blessed herself by fulfilling her
promise with her stomach. At a moment like
this, my father would give my sister and me
out of his meat, cow meat or fish. It had
become his habit to always do so and at
times, he would remain his food for us, not
that he would be really stuffed but because
he knew every child would expect leftover
from his or her parent. And we, his children,
had always had our throats to his stretched
hand. My father had now remained his food,
called my sister, and he gave her some meat.
I was expecting him to call me, and he
indeed called me to take the food upstairs.
Gloomy surprise! I was so downcast and my
throat dried immediately that my heart even
wept for my would. I took it upstairs gently
with my heart filled with numerous
questions. “Did my father forget to give me
my share? Or was he angry with me? And so
on.” I got upstairs and lay the food on the
table. My heart asked me to open the food
which had been covered and so did my hand.
There were pieces of meat on the food which
were very small in size but there appeared a
piece which was very big. Immediately, the
same heart asked me to take a piece out of
the small pieces and so I did, believing my
father would not discover, and I went
downstairs to meet them.
Some minutes later, we all went upstairs. My
heart beat and stroke my chest immediately
my father sat and opened his food. I began
to pray that he should not catch me. My
heart spoke to me with another voice
appearing to be another heart that I could not
go scotfree and I deserved to be punished
for my sin. Ah! My heart rose and touched
the sky as I heard my father calling my name,
“Daniel!” I raised my countenance and faced
him, and he then drew my mother’s
attention.
“I purposely did not give your child out of the
meat the other time,” said my father with his
cool voice but one could see disappointment
and anger in it. I knew my mother was
thinking that a bad child would always be
pushed to his or her mother. I was down
hearted, knowing fully what he was saying.
My father explained that he counted the
pieces of meat before giving me in other to
test my integrity if I would prove to be
trustworthy. He said that the big meat was
meant for me if I hadn’t stolen a piece. If I
had known, I would have taken to the adage
which says a patient dog eats the fattest
bone. If I had known, I would not have
allowed my heart and greediness to mislead
me. My dad caned me that day and called me
a thief. “Thief” became a word that always
rang in my heart, a word that had been
keeping me righteously, and I’d not for once
forgotten that day. He made me understand
that stealing could sabotage one’s name and
generation, and it could stop a person from
being successful. Petty stealing could
actually move to robbery, and untimely death
usually becomes the fate of any armed
robber. He said, “Everyday is meant for a
pilferer, but one day is meant for his flaw and
downfall,” and it sank to my brain; it
remained the first and last time I would steal.
My parents had named me Daniel but I could
not make up calling it correctly due to some
phonological processes so I ended up calling
myself Dane which became what other
people called me. We only had two children
in our family; i’m the first born, and our
second and last born was named Rachael, a
girl. One could easily fathom that our family
was a Christian one. We lived in a two-storey
building defended with flower. My parents
were teachers, strict and disciplinary,
therefore they injected the habit of behaving
well and reading hard in us.
It was already late in one night; the birds had
gone to their nest to rest; the goats had
returned from grazing land to journey the
land of rest. Well, my street had gained its
name, Surulere, and it had also been the first
street to dry up of voices of passers-by
except for the voices of some insects or
frogs around. Before the darkness began to
take over the earth, my father had arrived
home and met my mother cooking. We also
helped in the kitchen doing the cooking; we
were old enough_ I was eight and my sister
was four. One must say whenever it
happened to have cooked at eleven hour, my
mother would feel frustrated and lay some
anger on us.
We were done in the kitchen, my mother
shared the food, and my father asked us to
bring his food when it became cool but my
sister and I could not wait anymore therefore
we ate the food with its hotness. After we
had finished eating, we went outside to play
the moon which had already carpeted the
earth with its brightness.
Some minutes later, my father called us to
bring his food outside the house for him. I
made the arrangement for the food while my
sister made that of water. Well, my mother
had already blessed herself by fulfilling her
promise with her stomach. At a moment like
this, my father would give my sister and me
out of his meat, cow meat or fish. It had
become his habit to always do so and at
times, he would remain his food for us, not
that he would be really stuffed but because
he knew every child would expect leftover
from his or her parent. And we, his children,
had always had our throats to his stretched
hand. My father had now remained his food,
called my sister, and he gave her some meat.
I was expecting him to call me, and he
indeed called me to take the food upstairs.
Gloomy surprise! I was so downcast and my
throat dried immediately that my heart even
wept for my would. I took it upstairs gently
with my heart filled with numerous
questions. “Did my father forget to give me
my share? Or was he angry with me? And so
on.” I got upstairs and lay the food on the
table. My heart asked me to open the food
which had been covered and so did my hand.
There were pieces of meat on the food which
were very small in size but there appeared a
piece which was very big. Immediately, the
same heart asked me to take a piece out of
the small pieces and so I did, believing my
father would not discover, and I went
downstairs to meet them.
Some minutes later, we all went upstairs. My
heart beat and stroke my chest immediately
my father sat and opened his food. I began
to pray that he should not catch me. My
heart spoke to me with another voice
appearing to be another heart that I could not
go scotfree and I deserved to be punished
for my sin. Ah! My heart rose and touched
the sky as I heard my father calling my name,
“Daniel!” I raised my countenance and faced
him, and he then drew my mother’s
attention.
“I purposely did not give your child out of the
meat the other time,” said my father with his
cool voice but one could see disappointment
and anger in it. I knew my mother was
thinking that a bad child would always be
pushed to his or her mother. I was down
hearted, knowing fully what he was saying.
My father explained that he counted the
pieces of meat before giving me in other to
test my integrity if I would prove to be
trustworthy. He said that the big meat was
meant for me if I hadn’t stolen a piece. If I
had known, I would have taken to the adage
which says a patient dog eats the fattest
bone. If I had known, I would not have
allowed my heart and greediness to mislead
me. My dad caned me that day and called me
a thief. “Thief” became a word that always
rang in my heart, a word that had been
keeping me righteously, and I’d not for once
forgotten that day. He made me understand
that stealing could sabotage one’s name and
generation, and it could stop a person from
being successful. Petty stealing could
actually move to robbery, and untimely death
usually becomes the fate of any armed
robber. He said, “Everyday is meant for a
pilferer, but one day is meant for his flaw and
downfall,” and it sank to my brain; it
remained the first and last time I would steal.

Author : Okunola segun
Contact : +2347035157771
Interesting Story : "My Learning From The Left" By "Okunola Segun" Interesting Story : "My Learning From The Left" By "Okunola Segun" Reviewed by Ojo Ayomiotan Daniel,Tech savvy, c.e.o of Ayomiteblog media on August 04, 2019 Rating: 5

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