Strangling Ties

What did Happiness do?

For the love of music, she changed the name, she bent to their rules, she did what they wanted and they were happy with her once again but that one move caused her her music career, everyone who loved her for the impressive name she came up with got disappointed and basically pulled off from her, only those who loved her for the voice stayed and those one too got bored overtime when they started getting her name confused up. “Happyness” had been a brand, a spark that drew crowds; “Happiness Smith” felt generic, like a label forced upon her. Fans unfollowed her on social media, confused by the shift, assuming she’d sold out. Comments dwindled, invitations slowed, and the vibrant energy of her performances faded. She saw the low energy she was getting from her music and she was demotivated. Slowly and surely, she stopped singing and this caused another uproar in our house as my parents were not in support of her not singing again. In the living room, where framed photos of our family’s “success” lined the walls, they berated her.

“You’re throwing away your gift!” my mother screamed, her voice cracking. “You’re shaming us!” my father added, his fists clenched.

They fought tooth and nail for her not to stop singing so much so that they refused to give her food for like 3 days in the name of if she gets hungry, she’ll come back to her senses, she had to sneak out and buy food from one of her friends without my parents’ knowledge by going out through the back doors, she couldn’t even tell her online fans about what was going on as she claimed she didn’t want to spread her dirty linen outside and if they get to know, that’s another problem. Happiness, once the life of every gathering, grew quiet, sneaking out to a nearby buka to eat, her pride wounded but her resolve unbroken. We, the siblings, couldn't help her as we knew how strict they were and if we tried to, they could hurt her more. Happiness stood her ground and refused to sing as she doesn’t like the energy she’s getting and she sees it as it’s causing a wedge between her and her parents. She’d sit in her room, staring at her keyboard, now gathering dust, her dreams suffocating under their demands.

After the 3 days of hunger inflicted on her, my parents came up with another tactic of blackmail again, claiming they won’t pay her school fees if she doesn’t continue singing. At this point, everyone was convinced they had a hidden motive and they stopped supporting them, they saw them in another light as the confusion grew on them more. The church community, once loyal, began to whisper about the Smiths’ cruelty. Friends stopped visiting, their invitations to our home declined. And my sister? She gave up her school, she refused to sing and concurred that if they wanted to stop her from going to school because she wants to stop singing which they caused the downfall, then so be it, she won’t go to school, moreover, she was already in SS3 and she had written all her necessary exams at this point, the school they were refusing to pay for was the University. Happiness had aced her WAEC and JAMB, earning admission to the University of Abuja to study English Literature, a field she hoped would let her write the songs she could no longer sing. But our parents’ threat was real—they withheld her tuition, leaving her stranded. They took to their word and refused to pay for her tuition fee even after everyone intervened and she paid for the acceptance and all other menial payments from her savings, then, she had no choice but to go out and look for jobs so she could pay her tuition before due date and luckily for her, she was able to, and that’s how she finished her university. She worked tirelessly, tutoring younger students, cleaning offices, and singing at small gigs under a new alias to scrape together funds. Her hands, once soft from playing the keyboard, grew rough from labor, but her spirit held firm. Before she graduated, she moved out of our house and that was another story on its own as my parents were fighting about what people would say if they learnt that their daughter was staying alone without being married but Happiness stood her ground and insisted she doesn’t care whatever happens to their name and left regardless. She rented a small flat in Garki, packing her belongings in the dead of night, her siblings helping her carry boxes while our parents slept, oblivious.

“I’m done living for their name,” she told me, her voice steady but her eyes wet with tears.

My other siblings and I were in awe as to why they still cared so much about their image even after they “unknowingly” ruined their image by refusing to send Happiness to school in the first place despite everyone’s plea. Unbeknownst to us that the narrative they gave everyone was that they later paid for her school fees when Happiness started paying her fees herself which I found out when one of my friends who happened to be one of their friend’s daughter commended my parents for listening to pleas. I was shocked at first before she told me details and I was in disbelief. At a church event, I overheard the pastor praising my parents for “coming to their senses,” and my friend Tolu gushed about their generosity. I confronted Happiness, who laughed bitterly, revealing she’d paid every kobo herself. The lie stung, a reminder of our parents’ obsession with perception over truth. After Happiness left, she found her current husband and they got married without inviting anyone. We only saw pictures online and as you can guess, my parents were furious. They kept on murmuring something about what will people say and tried several times to reach out to her but she kept blocking all their attempts to reach her, she only reached out to us her siblings like months after with the promise of not telling our parents so as not to be disturbed even though they got to know later and we all were surprised as to how they got to know but no one was ready to confess but we all knew there was a mole amongst us and we all suspected one person. Happiness had met her husband, a kind-hearted teacher named Chidi, at a poetry reading. Their wedding was a quiet affair, just them and a few friends, shared on i********: with captions about love and freedom. Our parents, scrolling through their feeds, saw the photos and erupted, calling relatives to complain about the “disgrace.” They sent messages, called her old numbers, but Happiness had changed her contacts, blocking them entirely. She texted us siblings months later, using a new number, sharing stories of her new life but begging us to keep it secret. We agreed, but somehow,someone let it slip. Happiness blocked us all after this and never contacted us after which hurt us all especially me but we eventually moved past it and lived on. I felt the loss most keenly, having looked up to her as my beacon of courage.

But the little time we talked, I realized her spark was dead, the only fun thing she had in her life was her husband even though she had a son and he should also be part of the spark, because she lights up whenever she’s telling us about her husband but talks about her son like he’s a burden or someone else, I realized then and there that she was broken, nothing excites her anymore and now, she’s projecting her life experiences about her parents on to her son, but it was too late now as no one has her contact anymore and we’re no longer in her life to help her especially me who truly cares about her and understands her. In our brief calls, Happiness’s voice, once vibrant, was flat. She’d gush about Chidi’s support, how he’d read her poetry, but when she mentioned her son, Tobi, her tone grew heavy, as if his existence reminded her of the dreams she’d lost. I wanted to reach out, to tell her she could still sing, still shine, but her number no longer worked, her social media silent. Subsequently, we all realized why my parents wanted their names as part of her stage name, they wanted their shine with hers, they wanted to be called and recognized as a singer’s parents. They knew if Happiness had only her name, they wouldn't be automatically recognized and people would have to deduce it. But if she added their names, people would relate them together. SO SELFISH. And they successfully ruined her musical career. Their motives became clear in hindsight: every achievement had to reflect the Smith name. They wanted billboards proclaiming “Happiness Smith, daughter of Mr. and Mrs. Smith,” not just Happyness, the artist. Their selfishness cast a shadow over our family, breaking Happiness’s spirit and leaving us siblings to navigate the wreckage, each of us grappling with how to forge our own paths without losing ourselves to their demands.