A little about my mom, my mother is not your average Nigerian mom, she is Igbo, and she is a Nazi (with all shades of meanness). She expects you to know what to do even without being told, to understand her eye signals and act accordingly. So growing up, approaching puberty it was exactly like that.
The first day I saw my menses (well I was a late bloomer) I freaked out, because I knew my ‘vacation’ has finally ended and that I’ve finally reached that age where everyone takes you serious. I went to meet her; she didn’t really have much to say to me since as her child I should be sensible. The summary of the short pep talk she gave me was to always keep my thighs shut, and to never allow a man even close enough to touch the thighs. I nodded, I understood.
And I wasn’t the only one, I had a school friend whose mother told her that if a man passes between her two open thighs, that she would get pregnant. And the poor girl took it literally, she never wore trousers for a day. And the list continues, bizarre disgusting things I heard from living in a secondary hostel for six years.
It still amazes how most African moms develop a sudden likeness for sign language and hieroglyphics when it comes to teaching their kids about sex education. The worst is that they all expect you to understand, understand what exactly?
And even the sex education they give you is handicapped, they don’t teach you anything about discipline, about self-control, about contraceptives, about your body, and even sex, they only prophesy what would happen if you allow a man touch you, prophets of doom. They distort the image of sex, making you see it as something shameful and dirty. The worst is that they reserve this petty ‘teaching’ for only their girls, the boys are left to their fathers, or entirely on their own.
If you are an African mother, and you are an expert in sign language, hieroglyphics, and half-assed teachings about sex, then this shade is for you. I’m out.