The Daughter of a Driver

 

Each time I walk past through a particular street in Ikeja, I can't just but thank my father from the very depth of my heart for the sacrifice he made for my siblings and I so that we could get the best of education. This is always the feeling every time I'm on this street because sometimes tears of joy roll freely from my eyes.

 

Maybe that is why I love the hit track titled "the son of a kapenta by Brymo", the Nigeria's newest hip-hop sensation. He carefully painted the picture of what an average person who has risen from lowest ladder of the society to at least an average level of the social ladder, feel like.

 

I'm proud to tell chauffeurs that I'm a daughter of a driver. If I'm privilege to be chauffer driven, I'm quick to tell them that I'm from their constituency and this makes me have soft spots for drivers especially the honest and hard working ones. This always makes us bond immediately.

 

My father left profession driving about 14 years ago having driven meritoriously for 26years from Lagos to Akwa-Ibom, Abuja to Ivory Coast and Parakou in Republic of Benin to Ilesa Bariba. He started this carrier after losing his father at a tender age when there was no help to get him back to school. (This will definetly be a story for another day). I was born into the profession.

 

Some weeks back I was opportune to walk through this street again and in my own imagination, I thought I could see my daddy's boss. Lo and behold I did not see his direct boss but saw his wife. I walked closer to her and introduced myself, immediately she said she could see my father's resemblance in me. She embraced me and asked after my father, mother and other siblings.

 

She told me that his boss was around, she took me to him. He was proud to see his driver's daughter. He commended my father and said that he was an intelligent, thoroughbred and honest man. He asked what I do now and how my siblings are fairing. He told me how we were all given birth to under his care.

 

He was like a proud grandfather who has missed out of his grandchildren evolving moments; I sat with him and his wife at their dinning for more than three hours discussing intelligently. He also went through my past posting on the blog, I saw it on his face that he couldn't hide his joy, he promised to always be my regular visitor.

 

At the end of the chit chat, I thanked them for the honour of having me at their house. As I bade them goodbye, all I did was to thank my parents for chattering the ceiling of illiteracy over me and for giving me the opportunity of moving away from the classless to educated young woman.

 

I sincerely thank Nelson Mandela for painting a better picture of what education can do when he said; “Education is the most powerful weapon which you can use to change the world.”