By
“Ọmọ tó ní bàbá ohun ò lá, tó ní màmá ohun oní owó,
Tó bá bàbá já, tó ní bàbá ò ṣètò,
Tó sì tún bà màmá já, tó ní màmá ò ṣètò,
Ó dìgbà tó bá dàgbà, tó bá hùndà iṣẹ́ ṣe,
A rí bó ṣe ròun tó.”
— extracted from Sule Alao Malaika’s Peacemaker
Today, these lyrics weigh heavily on my heart as I write to you, my son. I am sure it must have weighed the same way on my Mother every time I blame her for not providing enough on days I branch her roadside shop along Allison road, Ikorodu, many years ago. The burden of the need to do, but constrained by the realities of wants and needs. Ten years have passed since we began this conversation, ten years of words, letters, and lessons passed down, not because I have mastered life, but because a father must give his child the compass of his own journey. Each letter I have written to you since your birth has been my way of preparing you for a world that is fast-changing, often unforgiving, yet full of hidden blessings for those who can see clearly.
Ordinarily, I could have left you in the hands of “the system”, this modern world that parades itself as wiser than the past. But son, the truth is that this system is faulty. It is not the world my father grew up in, nor is it an improvement on the one I inherited. Many modern parenting voices speak loudly, but often from wounds they are still trying to heal. I do not dismiss their struggles, but I know the training I received was not traumatic, it was survival, discipline, and the grounding of community. Those days prepared me to stand, to serve, and to endure. What I desire to pass unto you, is the baton of self-consciousness and awareness.
I was raised in constant readiness: survival as default, service as duty, resilience as norm. It taught me to always look for possibilities, to anticipate storms before they break, and never to surrender to the tyranny of time. Forgive me, son, if I do not always pamper you. It is not from lack of love but from the limitations of what I was taught. I was not raised in indulgence, and so I do not know how to pamper a child into self-destruction. What I do know is that a father must remain compos mentis: in full command of his faculties to lead his family through the pressures of life, society, and the invisible forces that shape our days.
People say turning ten is a big milestone. But truthfully, son, every age is a milestone. Every sunrise is borrowed grace, every night’s rest is a victory. Many do not get the chance to see another day, let alone another year. So yes, your tenth year is special, but so too is every moment you are alive, breathing, and growing. Never take this for granted. Ingratitude is the blindness of the soul; and just like the blind man who, upon regaining sight, quickly abandons the walking stick that once guided him, so do many forget the unseen supports of life. Do not be ungrateful, son. Train yourself to see and thank Eledumare for His benevolence in the little things.
Dear Adesola, as you turn the digit, remember this, when you light a candle, never hide it under the table. Its purpose is to illuminate, to guide, to redirect. Your gifts are not for yourself alone, they are for the world around you. A hidden light helps no one, but one placed on the table shows the way. Appreciate those rare souls who treat you the same regardless of your wealth, status, or influence. They are scarce in this world where affluence blinds judgment. Remember, respect tied to riches is not respect; it is eye-service. Seek out people who value your humanity, not your possessions.
Son, don’t be deceived, morality is not absolute. What people call morality is often shaped by their interests, needs, and circumstances. A man is “moral” until his interest is threatened. This is why integrity is rare. Do not be swayed by the morality of others, find your own compass in truth and fairness.
Compassion, son, is not weakness. It is strength clothed in tenderness. The world will mock concern for the unfortunate, but never let the cruelty of others harden your heart. Your purpose — your ikigai (reason for being), as the Japanese say, will often be found where your compassion meets your skills. Guard it, and let it guide you. The contradiction, however, is that you will hear many touching stories, each pulling on your heart to give, to help. Compassion is good, son, but balance it with wisdom. If you empty yourself for every story, you may soon become the next story people pity. True giving comes from a place of abundance, not desperation. Help, but help wisely.
Dearest Ubuntu, an African proverb says: “When the forest catches fire, the chameleon must abandon the walking style of its ancestors.” Son, learn to adapt. The world will change countless times before your eyes. Stubbornly clinging to outdated habits will consume you. Adaptation is not betrayal, it is wisdom.
Reading, son, is a lifelong refuge. Every other pleasure fades, but the joy of books endures. They will take you places your legs cannot reach, and give you insight that wealth cannot buy. Let books be your lifelong companions.
My Son, Moyoade, remember in your journey through life, you will face crossroads often, especially now as you seek freedom and I try to hold you back. This tension will not last forever; it is the dance between father and son. But never forget: freedom without guidance is a snare. Life itself is stitched together with failures, lessons, and recoveries. Avoid failure where you can, but when it comes, let it teach you. Don’t let it surprise you, nor should it paralyse you. The only true failure is refusing to rise again.
My Son Adesola, listen to me your father, the wisdom gathered over the years must be worth something, never go looking for trouble, but when trouble comes to you, finish it decisively. Life is too harsh to give affliction a second chance. Ensure that whatever seeks to ruin you never rises again. Strength is not in noise but in the quiet resolve to stand your ground when pushed. On the other hand, when others offend you, rise above the reach of their offence. Do not let bitterness dwell in your heart. Remember, poverty is not a crime, weakness is not shame. The true shame belongs to those who see suffering and choose cruelty instead of kindness. Omo Lisa, finding balance remains the ultimate goal.
Dear Omolayo, Ten years may seem like a lot to you now, but it is only the beginning. Life will stretch you, test you, break you, and still demand that you rise. In all of this, never forget who you are: Ọmọ Lisa, ọmọ a ke nigbo ki ẹru ba ara ona — a child howls in the forest, but the people in town tremble.
As you grow, carry gratitude in your heart. The child who forgets the hands that raised him will one day walk into a wall alone. Count your blessings daily, and let “thank you” never be far from your lips.
My blessing for you, Adesola, is simple but deep: May Eledumare keep you grounded in truth, may you find favour in places your legs have not yet walked, may wisdom guide your speech, and may courage anchor your steps. May your compassion never be mistaken for weakness, nor your strength for cruelty.
Ten years from now, when you look back at this letter, you may smile at my words, you may even laugh at them, but I hope you will find in them the compass of a father’s love, a love that only seeks your rising.
Ọmọ mi, maṣe beru, maṣe ṣiyemeji. Go forth with courage, for you are destined to be more than I have ever been.
Your Father,
Sulaimon Mojeed-Sanni
Read previous letters;
Letter To My Son #Ubuntu At The Count Of One https://blackboxnigeria.com/letter-to-my-son-ubuntu-at-the-count-of-one/
Happy Birthday Son As You Clock Two, I Was Afraid You Won’t See This Day https://blackboxnigeria.com/happy-birthday-muqsit-adesola-mojeed-sanni-ubuntu/
Letter To Ubuntu On Arriving At Age Of Cognition By Sulaimon Mojeed-Sanni https://blackboxnigeria.com/letter-ubuntu-arriving-age-cognition-sulaimon-mojeed-sanni/
Letter To My Son (Ubuntu) At Four: What Is Next? By Sulaimon Mojeed-Sanni https://blackboxnigeria.com/letter-to-my-son-ubuntu-at-four-what-is-next-by-sulaimon-mojeed-sanni/
Breaking To Heal: 5th Year Letter To My Son In The Year 2020 By Sulaimon Mojeed-Sanni https://blackboxnigeria.com/breaking-to-heal-5th-year-letter-to-my-son-in-the-year-2020-by-sulaimon-mojeed-sanni/
Letter To Ubuntu At 6: Welcome To Age Of Learning By Sulaimon Mojeed-Sanni https://blackboxnigeria.com/letter-to-ubuntu-at-6-welcome-to-age-of-learning-by-sulaimon-mojeed-sanni/
Ubuntu: What are stars made of? Letter to son at 7 https://blackboxnigeria.com/ubuntu-what-are-stars-made-of-letter-to-son-at-7/
Letter to Ubuntu at 8: Embracing Life’s Lessons and Growing in Wisdom by Sulaimon Mojeed-Sanni https://blackboxnigeria.com/letter-to-ubuntu-at-8-embracing-lifes-lessons-and-growing-in-wisdom-by-sulaimon-mojeed-sanni/
Letter to Ubuntu at 9: Embracing Growth, Culture, and Responsibilities Of A Firstborn by Sulaimon Mojeed-Sanni https://blackboxnigeria.com/letter-to-ubuntu-at-9-embracing-growth-culture-and-responsibilities-of-a-firstborn-by-sulaimon-mojeed-sanni/
