If you are a last born living in Nigeria you do not know what God has done for you. Yes, the times are hard, but the weight of the firstborn is heavy. I know because I'm the first of five and it's not easy bearing this burden. At a point in my teenage years, I hated the world especially because I began to see that it wasn't about how I felt but what I was able to do. To date, it's still so. It's a culture in a lot of families that the only privilege the firstborn might have is to be the first to become an educated graduate and after that must pay back that favour by as many per cent as the number of the family members. If you are a firstborn and do not need to worry about this, then you are really lucky because at times this shit looks like a curse then it is a responsibility.
If there's one thing firstborns share in common whether rich or poor, as long as you grew up in Africa Nigeria, it is the sacrifice we all must pay at a point in life. For me all through my childhood I can't remember the last time I was pampered. I've always learned to show strength and maturity from an early age of four when my sister was born. I needed to be a big brother to her all the time. Even at such a young age, my mum would leave her under my care which makes me sometimes wonder if I too didn't deserve to be looked after. But even as young as I was I knew if I didn't do it no one else would do it for my baby sister. A lot of times responsibility meant I would have to forgo what I wanted because my sister wanted something different or a lot of times totally let go so she could have whatever she wanted.
The best I was good at was acting like I never needed them even when deep down I wished someone would just let me have them. Seven years later my brother came into the picture, which meant more responsibility for me. I was in JSS 3 about writing my Junior was when my mother became heavily pregnant and with my dad never around I had to step in as the man of the house. Apart from doing the house chores I had to go to the market, cook and ensure my pregnant mother and sister were well taken care of. Sometimes I was appreciated, and a lot of times I wasn't doing enough but I just had to keep up without complaining. Above all, I was still expected to do well in school. Failure was never an option and guess what, I did it somehow.
My brother was born and I was completely sidelined while my sister got a taste of what it meant to be an elder sister but still enjoyed the privileges of an only girl. Not that my parents were wicked, but these expectations were just too high for a boy. By 14 my second brother came into the picture and at this point, I couldn't care less how I was being treated. Majority of those years I just wanted to run away from home to a place where I would be cared for too. I remember one time I was in the room just thinking about how I'm only called on when something was needed, I came out to see what was going on and saw my dad playing with my siblings alongside my mum and immediately tears started pouring thinking to myself if I did something wrong.
I cried to sleep that day and even while asleep. My dad later came to my room, saw me crying in my sleep and woke me up asking what's the matter… I just said nothing because the last time I spoke up I was given 101 reasons why I needed to man up. At 20 my last brother was born and at that point, I was thinking more about how to be a father figure to them and show them the love I never got when I was their age. To date I still battle the family responsibility every single day, there are times I wish I wasn't the first, but I guess this is my lot in life and I must carry my cross. It's not enough being a man with the responsibilities it come with… Being a first child is another level of responsibility which in the past I've wished wasn't given to me.
THIS IS MY RESPONSE TO HIVE NAIJA'S PROMPT FOR THE WEEK
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