The Memory of My Easter Holiday

The Memory of My Easter Holiday

I was 7 years old in the late 80s, sitting queitly in the rear center of the class, as the teacher just
finished a lesson class and announced that school would be vacating in the next 4 days for Easter break.
A rush of excitement ran through my mind; in a flash i thought about many things i could do in the hols:
training for our football team, walking miles and miles following local masquerade on the street, neigbhors
would take food from house to house and i would be lucky if i’m the one that’s picked by mom to do the
delivery, because those neigbhors would hand me crisps N5, N10 or N20 notes; you take your friends to your
relatives house and they take you to theirs in turn in the evening when you get home, the traditional
white rice and stew with the most delicious aroma and taste. Moms those days have a degree in this
delicacy, you just keep eating until there’s no space in your stomach to harbour more food.

Then suddenly the excitement was gone as i sighted a pile of our report cards, as the class captain was
helping our teacher to her car. I hate those sights, they cut short the holiday’s memories. With those
sight, i know i won’t have a full joy, because my expectations always come through – always struggling
between 25 to 30 positions out of 40. Sometimes they come as outright failure.
Though the result was not yet out, but my concern was how do i lie to my mom, and my friends in the neigborhood
Those moments never leave me.
How time flies! Here we are today as parents, putting much efforts to see how the memories of our kids
could turn out better interms of academics, morals, and socials, as well as thier dress sense.
Let’s help to preserve our heritage in our local outfits and costumes1d58f1679e39fbabf04059d3d46247d1


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