My kids don’t call anyone uncle or auntie — Odinkalu

Lawyer, activist and ex-Chairman of the National Human Rights Commission, Chidi Odinkalu, shares his fatherhood story with GBENGA ADENIJI

What does fatherhood mean to you?

Anyone can inseminate any other. Fatherhood is, therefore, for me more than the biological function of insemination. It is a very serious responsibility of trying to shape a better generation. I consider myself a father not just to my biological children but to a lot of kids in whose lives I have chosen to play a role.

What were the things that prepared you for fatherhood?

Nothing prepares you for fatherhood. In some ways, life should. You come to it as a beneficiary of the combined experience of the fatherhood skills and values of those who did it before you, watching them; learning from their mistakes; and making the best of their virtues.

What was your greatest fear before you became a father?

Uncertainty about the role and what it entailed as well as a sense of inadequacy somewhat.

When did you become a father?

Biologically, 20 years ago in 1997. But my would-be mother-in-law left me with her 11 year-old last son as she was dying in 1995 and he grew up as my first child pretty much.

How did you feel the first time you held your first child in your hands?

It was mixed emotions. Fulfillment, relief and  bewilderment. Labour was very long – over 36 hours. Mind you, I speak of labour in the technical sense of at least three centimetres of dilation. I was in the labour room through all but the first three hours of that. I needed to sign off work before getting in there. So, when the child arrived, all of us were relieved for different reasons: the medical professionals (nurses & doctors) that they didn’t have to go through with caesarean section which had already been prepared as both mother and child were showing signs of distress; the mother, that she didn’t have to endure that; and for me, I needed sleep!

Did you expect a particular gender prior to the arrival of your child?

No. I’m frankly not the type to look a gift horse in the mouth when it comes to this issue of sex of the child. I think it trifles with the value of human life to begin to think a particular sex is more useful or valuable or desirable than any other.

How do you discipline your children?

I had a dad who wasn’t averse to sometimes enthusiastic laying of hands for disciplinary purposes. So I grew up with an instinctive aversion for that. I believe children are very perceptive. I am very much against beating or spanking. My children get when I am unhappy or need something addressed with urgency. I don’t need to scream or shout about it. It’s in a bond and skill of communication. Sometimes it is unspoken indeed; at other times it’s humour. Sometimes their privileges are tampered with; at other times the tone of communication does it. Discipline also can happen in knowing when not to say anything.

What hardest punishment have you meted out to any of them?

Believe it or not, it’s keeping quiet; ignoring them. They will usually trigger a discussion. Parenting in my view is about enabling children to trust themselves, their values and their judgement. It means encouraging them to have and find voice. They can’t do that if I beat or scream it out of them.

What values did you learn from your father which you passed on to your children?

My dad’s traditional title was “Eziafakaego” – A good name is better than money. The value I took away from him more than any was honesty and integrity. The one thing I find intolerable is lying to children. That’s not allowed.

What have been your greatest challenges as a father?

In the beginning and always, it’s being able to provide for your children and giving them the best possible preparation for their own lives not for mine. Often we inflict on the children a burden of expectation for our lives instead of preparing them for their own lives.

What lessons has fatherhood taught you?

I’m not always the most patient person. So, the one thing I have learnt from fatherhood is patience. Fatherhood seasons you. Alongside that comes tolerance and forgiveness. You can’t be a father if you can’t forgive your children or indeed yourself. There is an element of audacity that comes from being a father. As I like to tell my own children: we all learn madness from our children.

What special gifts have you given your children?

If I have given them anything, I would think it is enlightenment – a liberal worldview that does not discriminate or suffer discrimination gladly as well as a voice that must insist on being heard even in the face of considerable pushback. My children are not necessarily conformist. In a society like ours, I expect them to run into problems with the types that (Oyo State) Governor (Abiola) Ajimobi would describe as “Constituted Authority” and they often do. My duty as a dad is to let them know: as long as they have not stolen, lied, or assaulted or damaged anyone, I will be there for them. Above all, therefore, if you grow up in our household, the one gift you must be able to pick up is moral courage. If you make them unhappy, they will be in your face or will subvert your claims to authority.

We believe in God but we are not invested in forms or buildings for worship. Our children know faith is important but we also recognise that they will be responsible for any decision they make as to faith. There is no established form of worship in our house but we know how to pray. It is important to enable children to grow up balanced and some of the things we can subject children to in the name of religion can be abusive. I remember I once reluctantly agreed to allow my daughter to attend some “virtuous woman” workshop for kids when she was 10. She came back on the second day and reported how they wanted them to speak in tongues and accept these models of suffering in the hands of men. I promptly withdrew her and had to call on the organiser to remonstrate with her. I don’t consider it part of my parenting role to make my daughter believe she is inferior to boys and should suffer indignity gladly or our son to believe he is superior to girls and can treat them anyhow.

What feminine roles did you assume in the house as your children were born?

I don’t know what female roles are. Obviously, I don’t have mammary glands. Terry nappies were no longer fashionable by when I became a dad, so I didn’t have to wash nappies all over again (I did that for my younger siblings). But it absolutely takes two (or more) to do this thing. The sleeplessness of early parenting can’t be borne by one person alone. It’d drive you potty!

How have you been able to teach them the essentials of good upbringing?

I don’t know whether I have been able to teach any “essentials of good upbringing.” A lot of our people in Nigeria have peculiar ideas about what is good or acceptable. For instance, my children don’t call anyone “auntie” or “uncle.” In our house, everyone has a name and when they meet you, they will find out your name and you will be called by Mr. or Mrs. or Dr. or Chief your name but not “uncle” or “auntie” etc. There is a good reason for that. A lot of child abuse is done by “uncles” and “aunties”; by people who are insinuated into the lives of the children through titles that import authority and familiarity but who should not be in those positions. In my own life also, I have come to the conclusion you can’t hold anyone accountable whom you cannot call by their name. “Uncle” is not a name, it is an institution. The burden of holding an institution accountable for abusing you is too much for a child to bear.

 The problem is, many Nigerians will think the children like mine are rude because they have not been weaned on a diet of gratuitous “auntie” and “uncle.” I get very impatient with people who want to dismantle our house rules and think they are entitled to be called “auntie” or “uncle” by my kids. But those are the rules we have agreed to bring them up with and they have worked well so far. Our kids know to look after themselves and be respectful but not to suffer slavery or enslavement. I remember when my daughter was seven, my perfectly healthy sister-in-law came to the house, finished eating, sat down and asked her to go take down the plates. My daughter quietly told her to please take her dishes down to the kitchen and wash up and that her dad had warned her against child abuse. I sat quietly through it. My sister-in-law knew better than ask me. The following morning, my sister-in-law left the house. Children deserve respect and a voice. We can’t reduce them to fetching and carrying merely to satisfy the vanities of adults.

Were there things you would have loved to do differently as a father?

Well, I would have wished to have worked fewer hours sometimes or travelled less. But on the whole, I’ve been grateful for the challenges of fatherhood.

You are a lawyer and activist, how have you been able to conveniently combine these with fatherly roles?

The children don’t and won’t remember the cases dad did or the picket lines he ran. Their memories are more prosaic and personal: the books; the meals; night time stories; embarrassing moments, school run. Children will humble you in ways you don’t predict. That’s what makes it such magic being a parent. It enables you to rediscover what matters not just the professional and other vocations.

What aspect of your career choices is any of your children showing interest?

My kids know that the only thing I ask of them is to be the best in whatever they choose to do or commit to. I am interested in helping them get the skills to be that. So language skills, inter-personal skills cross-cultural skills; skills of compassion and emotional intelligence; character assets of truthfulness, confidence, integrity, courage and values of basic decency, intellectual assets of positive curiosity and openness to inquiry. These are important. A child that has these assets and skills should make the right decisions about what or who they want to do or become.

How much of your time do you give your children?

I can’t give quantities. The one thing I have always enjoyed actually is school run. You learn a lot from it. Daddying up a daughter is a fascinating experience. In my house, it was my place to explain to my daughter what a period was and to prepare her for it. Her mum was like: no one prepared me for it but my view was, well, that was then. So she said: ‘okay then you go do it.’ We worked out a way to do it. With our son, his mother taught him how to use a condom. For us, sex education is central to living a healthy life and also to being truthful with your children. ABC is good but many people start and stop at A and simply live in denial about the fact that quite often our children will also need the C.

What is your advice to children who have no father figures?

I cannot generalise about children, even about those who have no father figures. It is ideal of course, to have the positive influences of a father and a mother in the life of a child. Often this is not possible and without knowing the reasons why this is not possible in any particular case, generalisation can be difficult. The nature of the family is changing under all manner of influences. So, I try to be case-specific rather than generalise.

What advice do you give your children about relationships?

When he was 10, my son accosted me one day at home and said: “Dad, did you say marriage is an institution?” Innocently, I said “Yes.” And he retorted, “But why would anyone want to live in an institution?” That was a question I could never have dreamed up. I had no answer to that and still don’t. In our conversations, I simply try to encourage my children to value relationships built on trust and mutual respect. And to value those who respect their dignity. In the end, it is all about trust, dignity and mutual respect. It is not about forms.

What is your take about having a favourite child?

Well, if we were speaking about tens or dozens or scores of children, may be. But I am not (yet) in that league as you can imagine. Every child is different and every child is unique. So, the idea of favourite children I guess would not arise for me.

How do you appreciate your wife?

It’s a huge sacrifice that women make in being primary carers of children, especially in the early years. Their careers, confidence, self-belief can take a bashing as a result. I think in our society, we take that very much for granted. If you had to hire a carer in enlightened society to do or help with that, you would appreciate it better just from the costs you have to incur for them.

PUNCH.               

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