Am I Your Mate?

I believe I’ve mentioned it before, but if not, I am originally from Nigeria, in West Africa. In 1983, my family of five, at the time, moved to the United States shortly after I turned four years old. Apparently, at the time, I was fluent in my mother’s language, Yoruba, and reportedly felt more comfortable speaking it than English. My two younger siblings, almost 2 years and 10 months old, weren’t as well versed in the language and definitely had not spent enough time in Nigeria to become accustomed to the way of life there, or the culture. (Not to say that I was so knowledgeable myself at the age of four.)

As we grew up, our parents made sure that we valued respect, altruism, and community. As a people, at that time at least, those were the big things. So, for instance, every time our parents summoned us, we were trained to respond, “Yes, Mommy/Daddy”, without fail. If the words, “What?” or “Yes” made their way out, we were toast. If an adult walked into a room and there was no other seat available, we were to automatically offer our seat, even if it meant we would be left standing or looking for another seat.

Another important thing was ‘greeting’ when we met or saw someone older than us. It didn’t matter if we knew them, didn’t like them, had no clue who or how old they were. The important thing was to say, “Good morning/afternoon/evening” and smile. We were never allowed to wait for an ‘elder’ to speak to us first, as that was considered disrespectful. Averting your eyes in order to avoid greeting was never a good idea.

The words stupid, idiot, or dunce were used often, but we were not to use them in context of anyone older than ourselves. I was even allowed to slap my younger siblings if any of them ever called me one of those or dared to tell me to shut-up. As the oldest, I had quite a bit of power at my disposal, but in hindsight, I realize I probably abused it quite a bit.

By the age of ten, I was the oldest of five siblings. I was put in charge quite a bit and was encouraged to always demand respect from my younger siblings. I think having been put in such a position, even now, as an adult, I am still very much that way. Despite living in the United States, my siblings all being taller than me, and times having changed, I still strongly believe it is important to respect one’s elders. They may not always be right, but they have some wisdom that their time on Earth alone has given them and automatically gives them the right to, regardless of how equal we feel we should be.

Even now, as a mother, I am teaching my own children the importance of respect. Sometimes they become frustrated with me, because I insist that they call close family friends Uncle and Aunty so-and- so, versus their first names. I cannot stand when a human being I could have given birth to has the audacity to call me by my first name. On a good day, I’ll grin and bear it. On other days, I simply say, “Actually, that’s Miss Esther or Mrs Zufelt to you; please don’t call me by my first name.”

Talking back is frowned upon. It doesn’t matter whether the individual you’re speaking to has said the most absurd thing. Respect comes before anything else. The issue can still be addressed, but doing so without insulting or disrespecting the elder can sometimes be difficult. In such cases, it’s just better to walk away.

I really dislike when someone, especially someone younger than me, playfully slaps me on the shoulder and says, “Stuuuuppid!” That word is used so much more now than when I was younger, and it literally makes me cringe when someone says it to me. I just view it as disrespectful. I guess you can call me old-fashioned or old school. I was raised to respect others, in order to be respected in return, especially within one’s circle of friends.

My children will grow up using the phrases “yes, please”, “no, thank you”, “may I please…”, etc. I always thought I’d be the parent that has their children address individuals as ‘ma’am’ or ‘sir’, but at my age, when I hear a young person address me as ma’am, I feel about 15 years older, so I’ll spare all those clinging fiercely to their sexy and stick to teaching them to address older folks as Mr/Miss/Mrs or Uncle/Aunty.