The Joys of Motherhood Education Quotes

The older woman laughed. "You know I'm no better off than you, but at least a man pays my rent." Her husband, Abby's father, was a European who had been in the Nigerian colonial service; he had gone home after Abby was born, leaving Mama Abby fairly well provided for. The wise woman saved all the money to use for her son's education….By now Mama Abby had passed child-bearing age, though she would die rather than admit it to anybody. She had the slim figure of a girl and had learned the art of looking every inch a lady. She still moved with the upper crust of society, but she preferred to live fairly cheaply in rented accommodation and spend most of her money on her only brilliant son, for that would secure her a happy old age. The days when children would turn round and demand of a parent, "If you knew you couldn't afford me, then why did you have me?" had not dawned. So Abby's mama, though a woman whom many righteous would frown up on their wives associating with, bought her way into respectability through her son, who was destined to become one of the leaders of the new Nigeria. (9.45)

Nnu Ego was shocked at the amount. So Nnaife had been sending the money. She could only guess what had gone wrong: the man must have told them she was in Ibuza. Of course the local office had not bothered to check whether or not she was back; and there was no way of her checking. With tears of relief in her eyes, she promised herself that all her children, girls and boys, would have a good education. If she herself had had one, she would have been able to call at this office to check about the money. She would at least have been able to contact Nnaife, and he could have done the same. She and her husband were ill-prepared for a life like this, where only pen and not mouth could really talk. Her children must learn. (15.76)

The girls were encouraged to continue with their petty trading even though they were at school. They still hawked oranges after school because as their mother Nnu Ego kept saying, "A girl needs to master a trade to help her in later life." The boys, on the other hand, were encouraged to put more time into their schoolwork. (15.81)

"How are the girls anyway? I am so bowed down with my own problems that I have not had the time to come and see them."

"Oh, they are in a convent school. They live there and come home only during holidays."

"Really?" Mama Abby cried. "Adaku, you have always surprised me. Those girls of yours may end up going to a college too."

"She wants them to and they will make it. I am beginning to think that there may be a future for educated women. I saw many young women teaching in schools. It would be really something for a woman to be able to earn some money monthly like a man," Nnu Ego said looking into the distance.

"But Kehinde and Taiwo are still at school, are they not?" Adaku asked.

"Oh, no, they only attended or a couple of years. We have Adim and Nnamdio to think of and, with Oshia's big school fees, we cannot afford fees for the twins. I think they can read a little. I personally do not regret it. They will be married in a few years. They can earn an added income by trading. The most important thing is for them to get good husbands," Nnu Ego said finally. (16.7-12)

Nnu Ego went with Oshia to his new school in Warri. Her heart sank when they arrived. Here were the sons of very rich men, one could see from the cars that brought them. She called Oshia gently and said: "You must not go the way of these rich boys. They have so much money in their families. Son, I wish you did not have to come to this school, I wish you had chosen one of those in Lagos were things are cheaper and you meet ordinary people."

"I won't copy them, Mother. I will work hard. If I had stayed in Lagos, I don't think our home would have been conducive to my studies. There are so many quarrels over money, and me having to help selling this or that."

"You are not running away from your people, Oshia, are you?" (16.13-15)

Some years later, Adim too wanted to go to secondary school.

"Your father is at the end of his tether now, and I can't possibly ask him to pay for your fees," Nnu Ego had to explain to him. "It would not be fair on him and on the others. He has made so much sacrifice for us, and you know that he does not find it easy to give. He surprised us all with Oshia's school fees. So if you pass into one of the local schools, I will try and meet your fees somehow; if not you will have to stay till you get to standard six and then go and learn a trade. They take young people as apprentices at the railways." (16.18-19)

"You are too young to understand, Adim. I don't want to live like my parents. Education is a life-long project. If I stop now, I shall only help them half the way. I intended to go further after leaving school. Say four to five years after that…then I shall be able to do something for them. Not now."

Adim opened his mouth and closed it again, swallowing the night air.

"What of me, what will become of me?" he had mouthed into the darkness.

He got up with a very heavy heart, remembering all the firewood he had helped his mother carry just to make ends meet, remembering the year in which there were locusts and he had stayed out for days, bagging the insects to make delicious fried snacks for sale, all because "my brother is at college, and when he comes out, we will be rich!" It now looked as if he was never going to finish his own education. He had slept little that night; he was determined not to sacrifice his life for any brother. He had a right to his own. He had heard his father say so: every man had a right to his own life, once it had been giving to him. He thought of his younger brother Nnamdio, who at the age of six had not started school, and who would not even sit still for five minutes at a private lesson, and he smiled sadly. He too would find his own path. (16.28-31)

"Now, young man, when are you going to take on your family responsibilities? Have you not sense enough to know that a father shouldn't have to ask that of his son, he should do it automatically?"

"What responsibilities, Father?"

Nnaife's bottled-up wrath exploded, and he thundered: "Adim! Nnamdio! You two come here." He turned back to Oshia. "These are your responsibilities, to say nothing of myself and your mother, who still carries firewood like a paid carrier."

"I don't understand, Father. You mean I should feed them and you too? But you are alive and well and still working—" (17.24-26)

"Look, Adim, it seems I am alone with you in this game of living. Your father blames me and you, my children. Ibuza people blame me: they said I did not bring you all up well because I spent most of my time selling things in the market. They are predicting that none of you will come to any good. Are you going to fulfill their hopes by rejecting yourself, too? You can blame me If you like, but listen, god son; so far you and your sister Taiwo are my only hope. I hope in you two, not only that you will feed me in my old age but that you will wipe the tears of shame from my eyes. So don't let yourself go. Face your school work; it is your salvation." (18.2)

"Don't blame anyone for what has happened to your father. Things have changed drastically since the days of his own youth, but he has refused to see the changes. I tried to warn him…but, no matter. The fact is that parents get only reflected glory from their children nowadays, whereas your father invested in all of you, just as his father invested in him so that he could help on the farm. Your father forgot that he himself left the family farm to come to this place. He could only help when he was well settled in a good job. For you, the younger generation, it's a different kind of learning. It also takes longer and costs more. I'm not sure that I'm not beginning to like it. My only regret is that I did not have enough money to let the girls stay at school. So don't' blame your brother for anything. And don't forget Oshia is my son, just like you. Some fathers, especially those with many children from different wives, can reject a bad son, a master can reject his evil servant, a wife can even leave a bad husband, but a mother can never, never reject her son. If he is damned, she is damned with him….So go and wash, put on your clean school uniform and hold your chin up. I shall see to it that your fees are paid before we leave. After that I'm afraid, son, your life is in your own hand and those of your chi."

"Thank you, Mother," Adim said simply, and he determined to do well in his forthcoming examination. (18.12-13)