Childhood trauma comes in many forms. In the middle of Ramadan, what started as a check-in message to a friend turned into a therapy session, during which my friend, Ifeoluwa (24), offloaded his trauma from growing up in a blended family.

As Told To Raymond 

I hate to be one of those people with a favourite side of the family, but I am. My mum was born and raised in a strictly Muslim household and then married my dad, who converted from traditional worship to Christianity. 

I’m not sure if it’s the traditional worship part or if my mum’s side of the family just hates that my mum converted from Islam, but it hasn’t been an easy ride for her since — or for me —who’s caught in the middle of it. 

It happened in stages. First, my mum was shunned at family gatherings for the first several months after she got married. Then, some of her male cousins wouldn’t speak to her. 25 years later, and the situation is mostly the same. Religious discrimination has almost shattered my relationship with my extended family multiple times. 

Let me tell you what happened during an Eid celebration when I was younger: Two weeks before the celebration, my siblings and I went to visit our maternal grandma. There, my uncle brought a tailor to measure the grandkids for Eid clothes but skipped me and my siblings. My uncle said we didn’t need Eid clothes since we wouldn’t pray with them. 

It makes sense now that I’m older. But at the time, I couldn’t help but feel segregated from the other grandkids. My siblings and I stuck out like sore thumbs at Eid gatherings, and we eventually just stopped going. 

[ad]

Another time, one of my cousins was getting married. My father brought wine and whisky for him and his friends who attended the wedding. Muslims don’t drink alcohol, but my dad didn’t get the memo. He paid for it.

My dad got murderous looks throughout the event, and that didn’t make things easier for me and my siblings. What had been a static interaction with my mother’s side became radio silence. While we had been religious outcasts, we somehow managed to become the black sheep of the extended family, too. We were sidelined at family events for months before my dad’s misdemeanour was forgiven. 

I only ever spent holidays with my mum’s twin and their eldest sister, who’s more open-minded. But this didn’t even start happening until my third year at the University of Ilorin. Now that I think about it, I don’t think we’ve ever had relatives from my mum’s side sleep over or spend the holidays with us. But my dad’s family makes up for all of these. 

Every December since I was born, we go to my father’s hometown — Ijebu Ode. It’s always one big warm family over there. They don’t discriminate against my mum at all. They’re like the poster children for an all-loving Christian family. 

I always thought my mum’s side of the family was cold and unwelcoming. I have aunts who won’t sit beside me, hug or touch me because I am an “omo chrio”, and their “religion doesn’t allow it.” I have uncles who have never rung me up or sent for me in the last 20 years. I have a lot of friends, but they can’t fill up the family space. 

I find myself thinking if the situation would be different if my Dad was a Muslim. Perhaps I’d be running around with my cousins in mosques.

Now that I’m older, I still think some Muslim rules are a lot to digest, but I also understand that there are extremists in every religion. I move with caution around Muslims to this day. I respect their boundaries, like the thing with alcohol and pork. 

My friends say I come across as a people pleaser when I’m with my Muslim friends. For instance, during Ramadan, I wake up early, I wake them and help prepare sahur. I cook iftar too. Maybe it’s the fear of getting shut out again due to religious differences, but I’m more mindful of my Muslim friends than I am of the Christians. 

I still believe that someday my mum’s side will see past our religious differences, and I can embrace that side of my family.

Before you even consider buying that ₦8k moi moi, we suggest you buy the more useful things on this list. 

Spaghetti

The last time we checked, spaghetti cost ₦1,400 each. Only Tinubu knows how much it’ll cost now, but whatever the case may be, we know for a fact that if you take your ₦8k to the market, it’ll be enough to buy one pack of spaghetti and ingredients you’ll need to make at least three servings of jollof.

A truckload of fufu

Garri is now gold, and fufu is the new way to go. You may need to hold your nose while eating it, but all that really matters is that there’s food in your stomach and change in your pocket. 

Wine

Specifically, Four Cousins. They might be asking us to purchase each cousin for ₦1,500, but even at that, it’s a better use of your money.

A ticket to HERtitude

You’ll have to add ₦500 to your ₦8k, but for that low price you get to come party with us for one full day. It’s only for hot babes though, so if you aren’t one, shift.

[ad]

Visa

Don’t eat your japa dreams. With your ₦8k, you can buy a fake visa and take it to Hallelujah prayers so God can make it real.

A plot of land

You might have to drop ₦8k every week until you leave this earth, but you’ll get that plot of land and grow your own beans to make all the moi moi your heart desires.

A business

We won’t tell you the type of business so it doesn’t look like we’re telling you what to do with your life. But think long and hard, we’re sure you’ll find a profitable business to sow your ₦8k into.

A house

All you have to do is hold on to your ₦8k until you get another one. If you do this like three times, you’ll have enough money to buy a bag of cement, and that is the first step to becoming your own landlord.

Blender

Why buy one moi moi for ₦8k when you can use the money to buy a blender and make all the moi moi you want? We suggest you buy the manual one because if you search for Buchymix with your ₦8k, they’ll chase you out.

If there’s one thing we’ve learned in the past two days, it’s that the truth is fast going out of style.

Now, if you can’t beat them, the next best thing to do is join them. So, if you want to become a world class liar and have everyone eating off your plate of deceit, we have some tips for you.

Practice on yourself

How do you want to go out into the world to spread false information and half-truths if you can’t believe what you’re saying? Spend a daily minimum of 30 minutes lying to yourself, and we promise that when you take the bad character outside, everyone will believe you.

Believe in your story

It’s only a lie if you say it is. As far as you’re concerned, your story is the only truth that matters, so you have to believe every word of it. You might need to be a little bit delusional for this, but there’s nothing you can’t do if you put your mind to it.

 Come out with your story first

Yes, the first person to call the police might not win the case, but it will give you a headstart  ,allowing you to control the narrative. So, if you want to spin believable lies, make sure you do it before the truth comes out and people have the time to analyse and compare both stories.

[ad]

Argue your way through

It’s not over until it’s over. If you haven’t been caught in your lie, then you better stick to it. If people want to come and tell you you’re lying, wear them down with more lies and half-truths.

Get yes men

You’ll need a group of people who also believe  the lies you tell. They’ll keep you grounded and help you fight the people who have the audacity to call out your lies or simply not believe them.

Stick to your story

The only thing you need to know here is that you’re right. Anyone who feels otherwise and wants to shout, “I have receipts” can hug a transformer and/or marry it. 

[ad]

Have a backup plan

Just in case you overdo the lies and someone decides to throw your ass in jail for libel and the likes, we suggest you put some money aside for bail or a lawyer. Don’t say Zikoko did nothing for you.

RECOMMENDED: QUIZ: HOW GOOD ARE YOU AT LYING?