A conversation with my Dad

"... to stay in the US after my bachelor's I would need to get an H1B within the three years my OPT is active..." suddenly the car engine makes a weird sound. I am no mecanic but I knew something was up, my story about me not wanting to live long term in the US had to wait for another time. My dad parks in a nearby shade. Here we are 200km away from home and 430 km away from our destination, my village. This was supposed to be a father and son trip. Nothing in sight, I looked at my father while he popped open the hood and with a calm voice and a smile he said "we have a big problem". not really what I was expecting to hear from the best mechanic I know. The engine won't turn and that is no good news. My once in a lifetime trip was off to a very bad start.

We find a mechanic shop in a small town near by. while they work on the car my dad and I talked about everything and nothing at the same time. It was one of those moment when you realize that you don't really know the man. I know him as my father and that was the only identity I forced my self to see all these years, I forget that he was once a college student, had dreams, really good friends, failed at talking girls ( though he insist that he was a G, and still is).

In 1995 he graduated from ABU Zaria University, Nigeria as a mechanical engineer. Soon after that revived the plastic company of his uncle, my grand mom's big brother. The operations stopped, the machines were faulty and their main engineer left due to lack of funding and low demand. Using his knowledge he manufactured some of the missing pieces and made them work because who had money to order things in Europe with no Amazon? for the next four years they'd make shoes, bottles, plastic bags... and he was serving as the managing director. A 22 year old man from Niger. For a second, all the rejection emails I received over the past few months for my internships were pale in comparison, I still have a lot to do.

We are on a bench --I was eating my favorite treat of the season, sugar can. He looked up, as if he was thinking " you know everything I do, I believe that God wanted me to do, he uses me as an instrument through which he touches other people's lives" my Dad, my grand father as well for that matter, is a very spiritual person. he is one of those people you look at, and everything they do and touch looks like art, the way they talk, they way they write, and the way they look and care for strangers, yet alone family members. You can't help but want to get close. My whole life I wanted to be like the man, and I didn't even know why.

I still remember a conversation we had, " if I was to die, and I was to leave you with one thing, I hope, is a good name. When you become someone important for this world, which I know you will, I'd want people to think he had a pretty parents, that do not lie, they do not cheat and cared for anyone that needed it". I get the urge to tell my father how much I admire, respect and love him. I can only write things down. I hope I will get the courage to do that some day. I will take his teachings and carve my way in this world hoping to impact people's lives positively. after all I am but a humble servant of God.

We are stuck in this small town for 36 hours now, and I loved every minute of this unexpected set back.

--M