The right time to be a writer

People believe in the concept of the 'right time'; a supposed set time where everything they may have struggled for, or desired, falls into place. I don't know if there is a right time but I can attest to having a 'right time' experience once in my life.

Source
I grew up to know my father as a strict man, wondering how he coped all these years being entirely serious-minded and living like an island, but if there was anything I loved about him, it was that he tried to set his children on the paths he thought right in life.

I remember my father calling us together as kids and asking

"Who do you want to be in the future?"

The easiest words on our lips were "Doctor! Lawyer! Engineer!" because our tiny brains had not captured the success possibilities of other professions. My father would nod his head satisfactorily and then give a long speech on how we had to take our studies seriously to become those things.

It was my dad who introduced us to the reading culture, shoving our heads into any newspaper article, novel, or textbook he found at the bookstore. We thought he hated us then, but today, the reading culture has fueled the essence of my career. Let me not digress.

As we grew older, my dad asked the question again "Who do you want to be in the future?"Everyone's answer remained the same but I kept mute. I remember my father turning eager eyes to me as if to tear my head apart to fetch the answer he was waiting for.

"Daddy, I…I want to be a writer."

The silence was deafening, then I heard him say as calmly as he could "Treasure, that is not a profession"

I lowered my eyes to the ground and kept it there to hide the tears that had formed as he told me anybody could write and there was nothing special about that. At this time, I was awaiting my admission into the senior secondary school where I would have to either be a science or an art student.

When I finally got admitted to a boarding school, my dad asked me to take their science examination which I did and passed without stress. I was therefore admitted to become a science student.

I had lost interest before I even began; missing practical classes, reading novels when my mates were reading physics textbooks, daydreaming while the teacher taught. When our results were out, I had 37 as my overall score in math, and worse scores in other core courses, managing to escape with just Biology and English.

I knew I couldn't show my father such a result, and I couldn't switch to being an art student either so I buckled up to make better grades so my father would not be disappointed.

I went through with that for three painful years.

When it was time for me to gain admission into the University, I applied for medicine and was denied, then switched to Pharmacy but was still denied. My classmates had gone far with their lives, some of them were already in their third year at the University while I sat at home, doing almost nothing.

Somehow, I was excited about not being admitted to study any of those courses as I had little or no interest in them. I just wanted to write. I summoned courage and confided in my mom one day, I saw the way her jaw dropped and her eyes widened.

"Treasure, your father will just kill you" she whispered as if he was close enough to hear what I had just said.

"I know mummy, that's why I have come to you. Please help me talk to him".

My mom spoke with my older siblings instead.

"Then let her go ahead with it if that's what she wants, she doesn't have to live under Daddy's shadow forever," my older brother said in agreement.

"What if your father refuses to sponsor her education? You know how much he hates being stood up to," my mother who had crossed her legs at the ankles and was now shaking them endlessly said into the phone.

"Then we will do our best to support her. She shouldn't be forced into being a doctor when she doesn't want to be one".

There was silence in the room and over the phone. My mom kept taking deep breaths and releasing them, making the atmosphere even more pensive.

"So what do you want to study now?"She finally asked.

I didn't know, I just wanted to write, and I told them.

My siblings brought tons of suggestions from journalism, to broadcasting, and finally Theatre Arts. I chose the Theatre.

From that time, I began to purchase textbooks and past questions on literature and every other art subject I could lay my hands on, soaking myself in those materials and preparing to take both the necessary examinations; All these without my father's knowledge.

It was my older sister who called me to break the news.

"Treasure you've just been given admission to study Theatre Arts…."

I tell you, I didn't hear the rest. I was shrieking in excitement, tears pouring down my cheeks in torrents. Finally!

I like to think that happened because it was the right time for me to have been admitted into the University. After all, I had never been an art student, never attended tutorials, or hired a private teacher to guide me through, yet I got admitted just like that.

I called my dad to inform him of the entire plot adding matter-of-factly that I had gotten admission and was due to leave for school in two weeks. He was silent for almost 5 minutes before asking,

"Who paid your WAEC and UTME fees?"

I told him my siblings and I did. I had picked a teaching job, saved up money, and received assistance from my siblings.

"I hope they are going to pay your school fees too?"

It was my turn to be silent. I wasn't supposed to be surprised but for some reason, I was.

"Well, Congratulations" he added then dropped the call.

I still want to believe it was the right time because everything fell into place eventually. Like my mom would say "It was God's will and it came in God's time".