Experience, they say, is the best teacher, or maybe I should have typed exactly what my mother has said over and over, "When something hurts you once, you'll learn".
I used to be very hyperactive. I never could stay put and I was always in a rush to get things done.
My mother would always tell me to calm down but I pretended to be deaf.
Source
I learnt how to slow down, take a pause and be calm about everything but unfortunately the lesson came with a scar that I will carry for life.
My Experience
It was a dark and stormy morning which led to a bright and sunny afternoon.
When I was little,my parent's house used to be the central gathering for friends.
Normally my dad traveled a lot and I don't quite recall why he was around.
There we were again, everyone gathering, laughing and chit chatting.I announced that I was hungry. Thinking back if I could go back to that very moment, I would have sat down and kept the hunger to myself.
I was eight years old, my mother was three months pregnant with my little brother. My mum believed in training her children right from a little age. At eight years old, I could already make garri, light the stove, fry the basics, like egg, yam, and plantain.
So with the announcement,my mum told me to go and make food for myself.
My father, the overly protective one, said he didn't want me in the kitchen but my mum was like, when will she learn?
I skipped, happy. I decided on Irish Potato and Ketchup. The plan was really simple actually: peel the potato, wash it, cut, salt, then fry and serve myself, eat and then raise my tummy to heaven.
Everything was going according to plan.
I heard my Dad shout at intervals, "Clo, be careful".
And I was.
Until I wasn't.
I was done with everything, all I needed to do was transfer the frypan that still contained the oil to the counter just like my mum showed me.
In my haste to finish up and get to my food, I wasn't careful.
The next thing I knew, the entire oil was on my lap and then I heard myself screaming.
My Dad rushed in first, followed by my pregnant mum. I remember that moment clearly, my dad carried me to the bathroom and quickly poured water on the jeans I was wearing. I would have to hand it to my Dad, he is really good at multitasking. He was trying to help me while shouting at my mother at the same time.
Fast forward a few minutes, I was rushed to the hospital.
Viewers discretion is advised 😂…
When we got to the hospital, the doctor had to cut my favorite jean open and in the process of removing it my skin went with it.
It's funny now but that day is one of the worst days of my life. I had to stay back from school for three months and when I eventually resumed, I didn't attend assembly for a really long time.
But on the plus side, I got to bond with mum and the baby growing in her tummy.
I learnt my lesson since that day. It wasn't just to be careful with oil, it was also to be patient and calm whenever I want to do anything.
My scar is thirteen years, even older than my little brother.
I used to hate it, I would always cover it up because I was ashamed of it. Sometimes I would look at my two legs and it was painful that they would never be the same.
I hated the stares I got.
With time, I've learnt to embrace it. I still get stares. It is a really big scar but now I can't bring myself to care. Look all you want, it does not change the fact that I have a badass scar that shows I survived.
The only thing painful at this moment, is that by the time I got back home, the potato was gone.
Up till date, I don't know who ate but like Enola Holmes, I'm never going to stop looking.
Thanks for reading 😊😊
