FAMILY TIES By Blessing Peter Titus

In Nigeria, family ties aren’t only by blood; they’re by neighbourhoods, tribes and any other thing that brings people together. That is why you’ll hear a Jenjo Man calling a Berom Man his brother when they meet in Ogun State—they aren’t brothers in the English sense of the word, but in the Nigerian sense of it. They’re brothers by region, both of them come from the Northern part of Nigeria and probably speak Hausa. So the fact that one is from Taraba and the other from Plateau is inconsequential.

Growing up, I had a lot of brothers and sisters—boys and girls whose parents stayed in the same compound as my parents. My aunties and uncles were beyond numbering, ranging from the older males and females in our compound to the teachers in my school. The parents of my brothers and sisters were my parents too, so just as they say, “money na water,” in my case, mummies and daddies na water. The beautiful thing was that these family ties weren’t just by names, they were fully backed by communal actions: when one child erred, he or she was literally done for, because di beating dey always dey surplus; when anyone in the community had a ceremony, everyone contributed— in cash, materials, labour or whatever else that might be needed. In times of mourning, the grieving family is surrounded by company, food, and encouragement.

As growth and school spread my family like a nice spread of butter on bread all over Nigeria, coupled with the lack of means of communication aside from letters, the familial ties began to weaken, like an overused rubber band that had long passed its elastic limit. But soon enough, technology did its thing, with phones and computers becoming more common, and with them, social platforms like 2go and Facebook emerged. This helped to reunite me with most of my family. Now, most of them are only a DM away.