Ba mi no omo mi, ko denu olomo is a Yoruba proverb that directly translates to "Help me beat my child, it’s not from the heart of the parent". This might be tricky to understand, especially for those of you unfamiliar with the Yoruba culture so allow me to explain.
As a people we fairly believe in physical punishment, so it is not uncommon to see parents flogging their children for misbehaving. And since we also believe the duties of raising a child doesn’t belong to the parents alone, some other members of the community are usually authorized by the parents to flog their children if necessary, but that doesn't mean they expect you to actually do it. Here is a story detailing my experience on this matter (garnished version of course).
I couldn’t take it anymore; the little twerp had finally gotten me angry. I was living in my aunt’s house and her 8 year old daughter was the most obnoxious brat you can imagine. She was rude, lazy and could not stop talking. I had told my aunt about her annoying child and she had given me the permission to beat her if she misbehaved, and on this faithful day I had instructed the twerp to wash the dishes she just used;
“Only my mommy and my daddy can tell me to do anything” was her reply and that was the final straw. I am usually a calm and friendly person, but that day her words made my brain warm and my blood boil, steam escaped my ears and nose and I grew little horns on my head that made me look like hellboy.
“Get over here and wash these dishes before I smack you.” I told her with fire in my eyes and rage on my tongue, and guess what the little twerp did. She ran to her room and tried her best to avoid me, but I was patient in my anger, the day of reckoning had come and I would teach her a lesson.
About thirty minutes later she came back the stairs and looked into the kitchen to make sure the coast was clear, “Foolish mortal” I whispered to myself using my best impression of Aku’s voice from Samurai Jack as I stood behind the door. As she walked into the kitchen I grabbed her and ushered her to the sink. The stubborn girl started to mumble under her breath as she washed the dishes like her speed was set to slow Mo and I could not resist. Kpa! Kpa!! I hit her slightly on the back of her arm, I am not one for beating children so that was the most I could do, but to my surprise she let out a huge wail.
Before I knew it she was in the living room crying like a new Igbo widow in a Nollywood movie. After like thirty minutes she finally stopped crying, her mom made her finish her doing the dishes, I had finished teaching the twerp a lesson and all was right in the world. Or so I thought. My aunt later called me aside and warned me not to beat her daughter like that again, but….but…but began my protest but I was cut short. She told me to report her and not beat her next time, same person who had instructed me to beat the twerp not long ago.
Not long after she kicked me out for staying out late (not the first time I was, and she didn’t even complain before), and I still believe it was linked to the little twerp.
In conclusion, if you encounter a yoruba woman and she gives you permission to beat her child, do not, I repeat abort mission. Remember, ba mi no omo mi, ko denu olomo.
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