Strange Beginning
415 Words
My name is David Agu. I’m fourteen years old, the youngest in a family of seven. My father, Dr. Boniface Agu, is a medical doctor, and my mother, Professor Rosemary Agu, is a university lecturer.
I’m also the only boy.
Four girls—Mary, Oluchi, Ndidi, and Obumneme—were born before me. As I grew older, I began to understand the weight of that fact.
In Igboland, girls are often seen—unfairly—as destined for another man’s household. They grow up, marry, and leave the family home. Sons, however, are different. They carry the family name forward. Among traditionalists, a man without a son is considered childless, no matter how many daughters he has, because there is no one to inherit the family legacy.
My parents are highly educated, enlightened people. My father is even a first-class graduate from the world-renowned Johns Hopkins University School of Medicine in Maryland. But all his education couldn’t erase the deep, almost primal, desire for a male child.
People whispered: If Dr. Agu never has a son, who will inherit his wealth? Who will carry his name?
And then, finally, I was born.
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My birth was like a family victory parade. My father hosted a lavish celebration, inviting relatives, friends, and colleagues from far and wide. He boasted that his son would be a great man one day—someone who would “bring honor to the Agu name.”
Growing up in a house full of sisters had its challenges. Theirs was a kingdom of perfumes, gossip, and shared secrets I wasn’t meant to hear but often did. I learned to keep out of the way when they fought, because no matter who started it, I was the one who somehow ended up in trouble.
Still, I loved them all. Mary, the eldest, was protective but bossy. Oluchi was a born tease. Ndidi, with her sharp wit, could cut you down in three sentences. And Obumneme—the closest to my age—was my partner in occasional mischief, though she always knew when to bail before things got messy.
Life at home was comfortable. My father worked long hours at the hospital, my mother buried herself in research, and I went to Holy Cross Secondary School, a place where reputations are made or destroyed in a single day.
The day I stood up to the bullies—and discovered the terrifying truth about myself—was the day my life began to change.
- Writer
