My Father's Last Words To Me At 18 Still Haunt Me 47 Years Later

I was 18 and I had just failed my HSC exam. My father called me to the veranda and said, "Kunle, you have disappointed me, but I will not beat you. Go and learn a trade." I was too proud to learn a trade. I wanted to be a clerk.

He died three months later. I never told him I was sorry. I went to the ministry the next year and started as a clerk, and for 33 years I climbed that ladder, but every promotion letter felt like a small penance. My father never saw me become Deputy Director. He never saw my children. He only saw a boy who was too stubborn to listen.

Now I sit on this veranda and watch my own son, the one who cannot decide what to do with his life, and I hear my father's voice coming out of my mouth. The Yoruba say, "Bi oba ti ri ni mo ti n ri." As the king sees it, so do I see it. I have become my father. The question is, will my son listen before it is too late? Or will he wait until I am gone to understand?