The day I sold my radios to feed my family, and what it taught me

In my time in the civil service, we used to say that a man's word is his bond. But when the pension money no come for two years, I learned that sometimes the bond wey hold family together no be word, na sacrifice.

I had to sell my vintage radios, the ones I collected since my youth. My wife cried when I told her, but she understood. We had to eat. The children were still in school, and the landlord was already knocking. I remember the day the buyer came to the house, a young man from Dugbe who knew the value of these things. He offered me a fair price, but my heart was heavy. As he carried them out, I felt like I was losing a part of my history.

But here is the thing, my son. That season taught me that possessions are only temporary. The radios are gone, but my family is still together. We survived. And now, when I see young people complaining about small things, I just smile. The Yoruba say, 'Bi oba ti ri ni mo ti n ri.' What I have seen, you have not seen. Patience is the father of wisdom, and sometimes, the greatest wealth is the ability to endure.