Simple Trials Of Love

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I was travelling from Akure to Igbesa passing through Berger and Lusada in Nigeria on Saturday. I was sitting at the front seat peering through the windscreen opposite the rear, directly under the heating engine between a black tribal marked Yoruba driver and a lanky young guy. Amongst all the passengers, I was in a company of four adults who were going to Igbesa with me for a church program. In the group we had a young father who I later got to knew as Daddy Esther, who unofficially headed our group. A man who comfortably stood over 6 feet with prominent beards, was he. It was through him that I saw the
most beautiful thing that week.

He was travelling with his young wife. A tall beautiful lady carrying a beautiful natural packed hair on her head. With her was their disturbing daughter, Adura. This girl kept on disturbing and whining for reasons I didn't even know. Akure to Berger in that shaky, dancing(thanks to the citizens called potholes) motor lasted for more that 5 hours and this Dad had to stand for more than half of the Journey for his 2 years old daughter, who was having all sorts of problems to lie comfortably. I was amazed. This man stood over 6 feet and had to bend his head so his body can be accommodated in this our naija bus.
Occasionally, I'm sure that his head had thud of 'greetings' with the dusty rusty top of our moving thatched house. But he never mind, bro was just being okay and intermittently asking his wife in Yoruba, "Hope you are comfortable"?

When we got to Berger, we had to manoeuvre our way to Lusada so as to board a vehicle to Igbesa. I couldn't really understand all the arrangements but I sure understood a little of what was said.

Our daddy and his family's luggage was plenty, so much that it caused problems for all of us. In fact, I volunteered to help them with a sack since I was trailing along with only a rolling box. Our daddy carried a sack on his head and held two bags while his wife back strapped the baby with a 'Ghana-must-go' black striped sack on her head.

While we jumped and flew into buses in Lagos to beat time and gain seats, Daddy Esther was our hero as he carried loads of luggage on his laps so we all can be comfortable.

Wait.. You say this is normal for fathers?

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People can always easily debunk these acts and say mothers do more.
Yes, mothers do get their accolades but this father did what not every father will do while smiling.
His act was something I admired and and thought about throughout over 2/3 duration of the journey. One doesn't see these acts everyday and not on smiling faces....

I do always feel fathers' unflinching love and dire sacrifices are always overlooked most times, So I'm dedicating this poem to all the loving fathers out there.

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Father's Love is like an old cloak
We go back to wear
When the elements are fiercest

Father's love is what makes
The sweetness in mother's soup
Bring lines of smiles on our faces

A father's love
Is like digging a grave in rain
It seems impossible, but daddies do it

Father's love is the complement
Of mother's acts, deeds and love
Father's love; is the spelling of love

Father's love tastes like sweet fire
When sent with caution
Laced with frowning loving heart

Father's love is like a budding flower
Sweet. Scented. Strong
It's like a shield holding hiding our heads from hails

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