This post is dedicated to Naijawife
When you look at me on a normal day, this is what you see.
However, if you look at my right cheek well, you will notice the scar. Emphasis on look well. I don’t know if it looks like a tribal mark because nobody has ever asked me if it is a tribal mark. This is what you will see.
So how did this very famous scar end up on my cheek? And no, the bike guy did not stab me on the cheek, lol. Naijawife asked me this on twitter.
Believe it or not, this is a true story, no matter how ridiculous it might sound to you. There are three main characters in this story. Me, Mama Bunmi (My mum’s tailor), and my Dad. So which of these three characters was responsible for this scar?
It all started when I was 5 years old. There was a girl in my class called Damilola Osho. She was very slim, wore neat uniform, shiny GL earrings, very neat weaving, and cute lips. In my opinion, she was a beautiful girl. Not loud beauty like that of Toke Makinwa or my yellow pawpaw sister, but that kind of cool and calm beauty. The thing is she had this short vertical tribal mark. I went further to form my ignorant opinion, that it was this short tribal mark that made her beautiful, and I felt if I had that mark too, I will be beautiful like her.
I then decided to give myself a beautiful tribal mark, like that of Damilola Osho.
I don’t know how come, but that day, there were just two people in the house – Mama Bunmi and I. Mama Bunmi was sewing clothes, as usual, and I was just idle. I saw it as an opportunity to quickly make myself beautiful like Damilola Osho.
So I took a big kitchen knife, and went straight to my mother’s dressing table. My goal was to give myself tribal mark without bleeding or feeling any pain. I therefore started making impressions on my cheek with the knife, but I saw no change. I tried harder. I ended up slicing the knife all over my face. I saw a few impressions here and there, but I knew they would fade soon, cos they were not deep (like Damilola’s own).
After about 30 minutes of trying, without any real success, I felt it wise to meet the only adult in the house. So, off I went to Mama Bunmi to help me fulfill my dreams of being beautiful like Damilola Osho. I showed her the knife, and told her to give me tribal mark in a way that I won’t bleed. She looked at my face, with all the knife impressions I had already made, and told me that I should wait for my dad, and when he gets back at night, I should tell him to do it for me.
Seeing that my dad was the more understanding, and less strict of my parents, I felt it won’t be a big deal asking him, and he would oblige me, just like that.
That night, I watched him eating, as he was gisting with my mum. Immediately he finished, I just took the knife to meet him, and pointed it at him, asking him to give me a tribal mark.
All I heard was...
“Will you get out of here right now?”
I scampered away like a scared rat. It was at that point that I knew that for my usually cool and nice dad to shout at me like that, my request must have been ridiculous.
But you see, the damage had already been done. One of the impressions went deeper that I actually thought. The cut was not deep, just a surface skin one, but the scar, as we now know, is going to be there for a life time.
|My dad and I. I was six here. |
About few months after the knife incident
P.S: I searched for Damilola Osho on facebook after writing this post I saw her instantly. She still looks beautiful, and hasn’t really changed much. The only thing is, I can’t see the tribal mark. It has probably faded away, or covered by her foundation and powder. Anyway, I sent her a friend request, but she never accepted. I believe it is because she doesn't remember me, but I remember her. After all, she is the reason why I have the scar in this first place. See how funny this life is.