autoethnography -final draft
Born into the Igbo tribe in the South-Eastern part of Nigeria that had long existed since the year 1043, I soon assumed the duties of a man. I was not only born Igbo. I was born first amongst my siblings and the major point of attraction was that I was born a male child.
These attributes of which wasn’t hand-picked by me made me a point of reference – a fulcrum of authority – a superstar, and majority of the times a beast of burden. I never asked for such highlights, neither did I ask for the fame. As the first-born son of the family, I am culturally called the “Okpara” of the family. Aarbakke (2017) states that the Okpara is the confidant of the father and second in command in the family. Also, when his father dies, he is the bearer of important family knowledge.
Even as a kid, as much as I could remember, I had always wanted to live a normal life like everyone else. One that is not bothered about customs and responsibilities. But then the society says, ‘You are the first and you are male’.
I could still vividly remember going on a visit with my mother to a family friends house. I was only sixteen years of age then. The man welcomed us warmly with smiles and gestured us to sit down in the living room. Then proceeded shortly to present us with Kola nut (Cola acuminata).
I was surprised when he asked me to bless (pray over) the kola-nut before we break it up and eat. I wasn’t shocked that he presented us with kola nut, an action which is customarily the first thing to do or serve your visitor in Igbo culture. I had seen my dad do that a lot of times at home. However, I was extremely perplexed and didn’t understand why he should ask a sixteen-year-old novice to bless the gift presented, instead of his mother. I never understood I was born into a patriarchal culture, where a male is significantly the head of a homestead irrespective of his age. Neither did I know that culturally in Igbo land a woman cannot bless the Kola nut. However, I heeded to our host and I blessed the kola, wide-eyed.
Some years back, I had just graduated from college as an Optometrist. Subsequently, I did my one-year compulsory internship program, a pre-requisite for obtaining a full practice license. Then got a job. No soon had I gotten the job than my mother sat me down and told me, “You know you got a job now, so you have to help in training your 6 siblings through high school and university”. My Dad sometime again also corroborated on the same message in a different semantic.
“Guys, I just got here can’t you see?” “I need to take care of me too.” But my explanations seemed to have fallen on deaf ears. As much as I tried to make them understand that I wasn’t ready for such cosmic responsibilities, the more they told me the literary meaning of being the first male child of the family.
All my reasoning and explanations were dismissed with a wave of the hands. So again, reality dawned on me that this was a case I wasn’t going to win. In fact, young men in the same impasse in my culture don’t win such battles. For other young men, it may be something different from paying the tuition fees for their siblings in school. It could be providing for the family or paying rent. As much as I enjoyed the pageantry that came with my position, the tough side was nonetheless lurking in the shadows. Its claws were already fixed on me and were difficult to shake off. I tried to run, but my legs couldn’t carry me. I tried to speak, but my voice was drowned.
So defenseless, I took up paying the fees for my siblings through school. Going full throttle on this activity wasn’t so much fun. But then, the society says, ‘You are the first and you are male’.
Not so long ago, we received some guests at my family house. I had just returned home to the house for my annual vacation. The guests were my sister’s suitor and his family, and they wanted to come and familiarize themselves with the family of the girl their son wanted to marry. My dad was unavoidably absent due to an urgent assignment he had to attend to. He was informed about it late the night before, so he could not cancel. Mum was around, but there was significantly nothing much she could do customarily. The fulcrum of authority at that moment in the absence of my dad was on me. I first culturally presented them kola, then went ahead to listen to what made them come for such a visit. I also asked the suitor questions about how they met and what he does. After all said and done, food was served. We talked about - politics – sports – had a good laugh, then they left.
As an adult, I have taken time to reflect on these experiences on my timeline. The high points and also the inescapable responsibilities. It has left me with nothing but ponders.
What if I had the ability to choose my sex? What if I wanted only the factory-fitted privileges that came with being first-born male and not the exasperating responsibilities? What if I never wanted anything? Would it make me feel better?
What if this sixteen-year-old caved-in under the weight of expectations from the society? What if his squeaky voice couldn’t carry a simple prayer line? Does it mean he is socio-culturally unfit?
What if this young graduate with a job doesn’t have much for himself let alone give out? What if the weight of the responsibilities consumed him? What if he himself didn’t make it through college, would anybody care?
All these questions still remain unanswered and may not still be answered because according to the society, ‘I am the first and I was born a male’. On the contrary, there could be other families in Igbo land who don’t have a male child to inherits these responsibilities. For such families, these responsibilities besides handling the kola-nut may have to fall on the first female child at best, or may not be applied at worse. As much as the financial burden may fall on the eldest girl, inheritances of major family properties and tracing of kinship will uncompromisingly fall on any male born or adopted later by that family. This is partly because culturally it is assumed the ladies will one day be married off to another family and adopt new last names.
In other situations, the family may be financially buoyant that the Eldest son of the family will not have to be burdened with financial responsibilities. In similar cases too, his siblings may be well-to-do. Hence, they can step in to cushion the effect of some roles. However, he stands to inherit all benefits that accrue because of his position in the family as the eldest son. It is also noteworthy to infer that the role and position of the first-born son are not diminished even if he is far away in a foreign land. So long as he is alive, he can delegate someone, especially any member of the family to stand-in for him.
Most recently, I walked into a portion of land owned by my family with a surveyor and his team. We were there to survey the land so that I could start building my own house. Since as an adult I needed to start my own family. I have 6 siblings of which 5 are ladies and the last a teenage boy. I didn’t feel much of remorse laying claim over the land because of my position in the family. Also, because, “the way the Igbo culture is patriarchally structured, a woman’s male children inherit the land” (Nwoye, 2011, p. 313). However, being the first, I am always favored to pick and heard on any issue ahead of my teenage brother. A family blessed with both male and female offspring are joyful for such favors. “But in general, masculinity dominates the gender ideology amongst the Igbos” (Nwoye, 2011, p. 313).
Fortunately, over time I have come to realize that all my actions have not been flashes in the pan. They have been carefully articulated patterns in consonance with my tradition and identity. It is no news again that I come from a patriarchal culture. It is no news that “the Igbo culture is patrilineal and kinship is traced in the male line” (Nwoye, 2011, p. 312).
I know there could have been a lot of questions surrounding my fate as the first in my family, assuming things went south. However, to live in the moment, I shouldn’t bother myself with the unknown. I shouldn’t also be burdened by the society’s narrative, ‘You were born first and you were born a male’. Rather, I have come to embrace the inescapable fact that though I was born the first and a male child, I have made it thus far.
REFERENCE:
Aarbakke, H. (2017). The Importance of Being the Eldest Brother and Its Relevance for New Testament Christology (Doctoral dissertation). Retrieved from: https://www.mf.no/sites/mf/files/users/Bilder/Nyheter/2017/avhandling_harald_aarbakke.pdf
Nwoye, C. M. (2011). Igbo cultural and religious worldview: An insider’s perspective. International Journal of Sociology and Anthropology Vol. 3(9), pp. 304-317. https://academicjournals.org/journal/IJSA/article-full-text-pdf/35A0C542887
These attributes of which wasn’t hand-picked by me made me a point of reference – a fulcrum of authority – a superstar, and majority of the times a beast of burden. I never asked for such highlights, neither did I ask for the fame. As the first-born son of the family, I am culturally called the “Okpara” of the family. Aarbakke (2017) states that the Okpara is the confidant of the father and second in command in the family. Also, when his father dies, he is the bearer of important family knowledge.
Even as a kid, as much as I could remember, I had always wanted to live a normal life like everyone else. One that is not bothered about customs and responsibilities. But then the society says, ‘You are the first and you are male’.
I could still vividly remember going on a visit with my mother to a family friends house. I was only sixteen years of age then. The man welcomed us warmly with smiles and gestured us to sit down in the living room. Then proceeded shortly to present us with Kola nut (Cola acuminata).
I was surprised when he asked me to bless (pray over) the kola-nut before we break it up and eat. I wasn’t shocked that he presented us with kola nut, an action which is customarily the first thing to do or serve your visitor in Igbo culture. I had seen my dad do that a lot of times at home. However, I was extremely perplexed and didn’t understand why he should ask a sixteen-year-old novice to bless the gift presented, instead of his mother. I never understood I was born into a patriarchal culture, where a male is significantly the head of a homestead irrespective of his age. Neither did I know that culturally in Igbo land a woman cannot bless the Kola nut. However, I heeded to our host and I blessed the kola, wide-eyed.
Some years back, I had just graduated from college as an Optometrist. Subsequently, I did my one-year compulsory internship program, a pre-requisite for obtaining a full practice license. Then got a job. No soon had I gotten the job than my mother sat me down and told me, “You know you got a job now, so you have to help in training your 6 siblings through high school and university”. My Dad sometime again also corroborated on the same message in a different semantic.
“Guys, I just got here can’t you see?” “I need to take care of me too.” But my explanations seemed to have fallen on deaf ears. As much as I tried to make them understand that I wasn’t ready for such cosmic responsibilities, the more they told me the literary meaning of being the first male child of the family.
All my reasoning and explanations were dismissed with a wave of the hands. So again, reality dawned on me that this was a case I wasn’t going to win. In fact, young men in the same impasse in my culture don’t win such battles. For other young men, it may be something different from paying the tuition fees for their siblings in school. It could be providing for the family or paying rent. As much as I enjoyed the pageantry that came with my position, the tough side was nonetheless lurking in the shadows. Its claws were already fixed on me and were difficult to shake off. I tried to run, but my legs couldn’t carry me. I tried to speak, but my voice was drowned.
So defenseless, I took up paying the fees for my siblings through school. Going full throttle on this activity wasn’t so much fun. But then, the society says, ‘You are the first and you are male’.
Not so long ago, we received some guests at my family house. I had just returned home to the house for my annual vacation. The guests were my sister’s suitor and his family, and they wanted to come and familiarize themselves with the family of the girl their son wanted to marry. My dad was unavoidably absent due to an urgent assignment he had to attend to. He was informed about it late the night before, so he could not cancel. Mum was around, but there was significantly nothing much she could do customarily. The fulcrum of authority at that moment in the absence of my dad was on me. I first culturally presented them kola, then went ahead to listen to what made them come for such a visit. I also asked the suitor questions about how they met and what he does. After all said and done, food was served. We talked about - politics – sports – had a good laugh, then they left.
As an adult, I have taken time to reflect on these experiences on my timeline. The high points and also the inescapable responsibilities. It has left me with nothing but ponders.
What if I had the ability to choose my sex? What if I wanted only the factory-fitted privileges that came with being first-born male and not the exasperating responsibilities? What if I never wanted anything? Would it make me feel better?
What if this sixteen-year-old caved-in under the weight of expectations from the society? What if his squeaky voice couldn’t carry a simple prayer line? Does it mean he is socio-culturally unfit?
What if this young graduate with a job doesn’t have much for himself let alone give out? What if the weight of the responsibilities consumed him? What if he himself didn’t make it through college, would anybody care?
All these questions still remain unanswered and may not still be answered because according to the society, ‘I am the first and I was born a male’. On the contrary, there could be other families in Igbo land who don’t have a male child to inherits these responsibilities. For such families, these responsibilities besides handling the kola-nut may have to fall on the first female child at best, or may not be applied at worse. As much as the financial burden may fall on the eldest girl, inheritances of major family properties and tracing of kinship will uncompromisingly fall on any male born or adopted later by that family. This is partly because culturally it is assumed the ladies will one day be married off to another family and adopt new last names.
In other situations, the family may be financially buoyant that the Eldest son of the family will not have to be burdened with financial responsibilities. In similar cases too, his siblings may be well-to-do. Hence, they can step in to cushion the effect of some roles. However, he stands to inherit all benefits that accrue because of his position in the family as the eldest son. It is also noteworthy to infer that the role and position of the first-born son are not diminished even if he is far away in a foreign land. So long as he is alive, he can delegate someone, especially any member of the family to stand-in for him.
Most recently, I walked into a portion of land owned by my family with a surveyor and his team. We were there to survey the land so that I could start building my own house. Since as an adult I needed to start my own family. I have 6 siblings of which 5 are ladies and the last a teenage boy. I didn’t feel much of remorse laying claim over the land because of my position in the family. Also, because, “the way the Igbo culture is patriarchally structured, a woman’s male children inherit the land” (Nwoye, 2011, p. 313). However, being the first, I am always favored to pick and heard on any issue ahead of my teenage brother. A family blessed with both male and female offspring are joyful for such favors. “But in general, masculinity dominates the gender ideology amongst the Igbos” (Nwoye, 2011, p. 313).
Fortunately, over time I have come to realize that all my actions have not been flashes in the pan. They have been carefully articulated patterns in consonance with my tradition and identity. It is no news again that I come from a patriarchal culture. It is no news that “the Igbo culture is patrilineal and kinship is traced in the male line” (Nwoye, 2011, p. 312).
I know there could have been a lot of questions surrounding my fate as the first in my family, assuming things went south. However, to live in the moment, I shouldn’t bother myself with the unknown. I shouldn’t also be burdened by the society’s narrative, ‘You were born first and you were born a male’. Rather, I have come to embrace the inescapable fact that though I was born the first and a male child, I have made it thus far.
REFERENCE:
Aarbakke, H. (2017). The Importance of Being the Eldest Brother and Its Relevance for New Testament Christology (Doctoral dissertation). Retrieved from: https://www.mf.no/sites/mf/files/users/Bilder/Nyheter/2017/avhandling_harald_aarbakke.pdf
Nwoye, C. M. (2011). Igbo cultural and religious worldview: An insider’s perspective. International Journal of Sociology and Anthropology Vol. 3(9), pp. 304-317. https://academicjournals.org/journal/IJSA/article-full-text-pdf/35A0C542887
autoethnography -rough draft
Born into the Igbo tribe in the South-Eastern part of Nigeria that had long existed since the year 1043, I soon assumed the duties of a man. I was not only born Igbo. I was born first amongst my siblings and the major point of attraction was that I was born a male child.
These attributes of which wasn’t hand-picked by me made me a point of reference – a fulcrum of authority – a superstar, and majority of the times a beast of burden. I never asked for such highlights, neither did I ask for the fame. As first-born son of the family, I am culturally called the “Okpara”s of the family. Aarbakke (2017) states that the Okpara is the confidant of the father and second in command in the family. Also, when his father dies, he is the bearer of important family knowledge.
Even as a kid, as much as I could remember, I had always wanted to live a normal life like everyone else. One that is not bothered about customs and responsibilities. But then the society says, ‘You are the first and you are male’.
I could still vividly remember going on a visit with my mother to a family friends house. I was only sixteen years of age then. The man welcomed us warmly with smiles and gestured us to sit down in the living room. Then proceeded shortly to present us with Kola nut (Cola acuminata).
I was surprised when he asked me to bless (pray over) the kola-nut before we break it up and eat. I wasn’t shocked that he presented us with kola nut, an action which is customarily the first thing to do or serve your visitor in Igbo culture. I had seen my dad do that a lot of times at home. However, I was extremely perplexed and didn’t understand why he should ask a sixteen-year-old novice to bless the gift presented, instead of his mother. I never understood I was born into a patriarchal culture, where a male is significantly the head of a homestead irrespective of his age. Neither did I know that culturally in Igbo land a woman cannot bless the Kola nut. However, I heeded to our host and I blessed the kola, wide-eyed.
Some years back, I had just graduated from college as an Optometrist. Subsequently, I did my one-year compulsory internship program, a pre-requisite for obtaining a full practice license. Then got a job. No soon had I gotten the job than my mother sat me down and told me, “You know you got a job now, so you have to help in training your 6 siblings through high school and university”. My Dad sometime again also corroborated on the same message in a different semantic.
“Guys, I just got here can’t you see?” “I need to take care of me too.” But my explanations seemed to have fallen on deaf ears. As much as I tried to make them understand that I wasn’t ready for such cosmic responsibilities, the more they told me the literary meaning of being the first male child of the family. All my reasoning and explanations were dismissed with a wave of the hands. So again, reality dawned on me that this was a case I wasn’t going to win. In fact, young men in the same impasse in my culture don’t win such battles. For other young men, it may be something different from paying the tuition fees for their siblings in school. It could be providing for the family or paying rent. As much as I enjoyed the pageantry that came with my position, the tough side was nonetheless lurking in the shadows. Its claws were already fixed on me, and was difficult to shake off. I tried to run, but my legs couldn’t carry me. I tried to speak, but my voice was drowned.
So defenseless, I took up paying the fees for my siblings through school. Going full throttle on this activity wasn’t so much fun. But then, the society says, ‘You are the first and you are male’.
Not so long ago, we received some guests at my family house. I had just returned home to the house for my annual vacation. The guests were my sister’s suitor and his family, and they wanted to come and familiarize themselves with the family of the girl their son wanted to marry. My dad was unavoidably absent due to an urgent assignment he had to attend to. He was informed about it late the night before, so he could not cancel. Mum was around, but there was significantly nothing much she could do customarily. The fulcrum of authority at that moment in the absence of my dad was on me. I first culturally presented them kola, then went ahead to listen to what made them come for such a visit. I also asked the suitor questions about how they met and what he does. After all said and done, food was served. We talked about - politics – sports – had a good laugh, then they left.
As an adult, I have taken time to reflect on these experiences on my timeline. The high points and also the inescapable responsibilities. It has left me with nothing but ponders.
What if I had the ability to choose my sex? What if I wanted only the factory-fitted privileges that came with being first-born male and not the exasperating responsibilities? What if I never wanted anything? Would it make me feel better?
What if this sixteen-year-old caved-in under the weight of expectations from the society? What if his squeaky voice couldn’t carry a simple prayer line? Does it mean he is socio-culturally unfit?
What if this young graduate with a job doesn’t have much for himself let alone give out? What if the weight of the responsibilities consumed him? What if he himself didn’t make it through college, would anybody care?
All these questions still remain unanswered and may not still be answered because according to the society, ‘I am the first and I was born a male’. On the contrary, there could be other families in Igbo land who don’t have a male child to inherits these responsibilities. For such families these responsibilities besides handling the kola-nut may have to fall on the first female child at best, or may not be applied at worse. In other situations, the family may be financially buoyant that the Eldest son of the family will not have to be burdened with financial responsibilities. However, he stands to inherit all benefits that accrues because of his position in the family.
Most recently, I walked into a portion of land owned by my family with a surveyor and his team. We were there to survey the land so that I could start building my own house. Since as an adult I needed to start my own family. I have 6 siblings of which 5 are ladies and the last a teenage boy. I didn’t feel much of remorse laying claim over the land because of my position in the family. Also, because, “the way the Igbo culture is patriarchally structured, a woman’s male children inherit the land” (Nwoye, 2011, p. 313). However, being the first, I am always favored to pick and heard on any issue ahead of my teenage brother. A family blessed with both male and female offspring are joyful for such favors. “But in general, masculinity dominates the gender ideology amongst the Igbos” (Nwoye, 2011, p. 313).
Fortunately, over time I have come to realize that all my actions have not been flashes in the pan. They have been carefully articulated patterns in consonance with my tradition and identity. It is no news again that I come from a patriarchal culture. It is no news that “the Igbo culture is patrilineal and kinship is traced in the male line” (Nwoye, 2011, p. 312).
I know there could have been a lot of questions surrounding my fate as the first in my family, assuming things went south. However, to live in the moment, I shouldn’t bother myself with the unknown. I shouldn’t also be burdened by the society’s narrative, ‘You were born first and you were born a male’. Rather, I have come to embrace the inescapable fact that though I was born the first and a male child, I am appreciative and have made it thus far.
REFERENCE:
Aarbakke, H. (2017). The Importance of Being the Eldest Brother and Its Relevance for New Testament Christology (Doctoral dissertation). Retrived from: https://www.mf.no/sites/mf/files/users/Bilder/Nyheter/2017/avhandling_harald_aarbakke.pdf
Nwoye, C. M. (2011). Igbo cultural and religious worldview: An insider’s perspective. International Journal of Sociology and Anthropology Vol. 3(9), pp. 304-317. https://academicjournals.org/journal/IJSA/article-full-text-pdf/35A0C542887
These attributes of which wasn’t hand-picked by me made me a point of reference – a fulcrum of authority – a superstar, and majority of the times a beast of burden. I never asked for such highlights, neither did I ask for the fame. As first-born son of the family, I am culturally called the “Okpara”s of the family. Aarbakke (2017) states that the Okpara is the confidant of the father and second in command in the family. Also, when his father dies, he is the bearer of important family knowledge.
Even as a kid, as much as I could remember, I had always wanted to live a normal life like everyone else. One that is not bothered about customs and responsibilities. But then the society says, ‘You are the first and you are male’.
I could still vividly remember going on a visit with my mother to a family friends house. I was only sixteen years of age then. The man welcomed us warmly with smiles and gestured us to sit down in the living room. Then proceeded shortly to present us with Kola nut (Cola acuminata).
I was surprised when he asked me to bless (pray over) the kola-nut before we break it up and eat. I wasn’t shocked that he presented us with kola nut, an action which is customarily the first thing to do or serve your visitor in Igbo culture. I had seen my dad do that a lot of times at home. However, I was extremely perplexed and didn’t understand why he should ask a sixteen-year-old novice to bless the gift presented, instead of his mother. I never understood I was born into a patriarchal culture, where a male is significantly the head of a homestead irrespective of his age. Neither did I know that culturally in Igbo land a woman cannot bless the Kola nut. However, I heeded to our host and I blessed the kola, wide-eyed.
Some years back, I had just graduated from college as an Optometrist. Subsequently, I did my one-year compulsory internship program, a pre-requisite for obtaining a full practice license. Then got a job. No soon had I gotten the job than my mother sat me down and told me, “You know you got a job now, so you have to help in training your 6 siblings through high school and university”. My Dad sometime again also corroborated on the same message in a different semantic.
“Guys, I just got here can’t you see?” “I need to take care of me too.” But my explanations seemed to have fallen on deaf ears. As much as I tried to make them understand that I wasn’t ready for such cosmic responsibilities, the more they told me the literary meaning of being the first male child of the family. All my reasoning and explanations were dismissed with a wave of the hands. So again, reality dawned on me that this was a case I wasn’t going to win. In fact, young men in the same impasse in my culture don’t win such battles. For other young men, it may be something different from paying the tuition fees for their siblings in school. It could be providing for the family or paying rent. As much as I enjoyed the pageantry that came with my position, the tough side was nonetheless lurking in the shadows. Its claws were already fixed on me, and was difficult to shake off. I tried to run, but my legs couldn’t carry me. I tried to speak, but my voice was drowned.
So defenseless, I took up paying the fees for my siblings through school. Going full throttle on this activity wasn’t so much fun. But then, the society says, ‘You are the first and you are male’.
Not so long ago, we received some guests at my family house. I had just returned home to the house for my annual vacation. The guests were my sister’s suitor and his family, and they wanted to come and familiarize themselves with the family of the girl their son wanted to marry. My dad was unavoidably absent due to an urgent assignment he had to attend to. He was informed about it late the night before, so he could not cancel. Mum was around, but there was significantly nothing much she could do customarily. The fulcrum of authority at that moment in the absence of my dad was on me. I first culturally presented them kola, then went ahead to listen to what made them come for such a visit. I also asked the suitor questions about how they met and what he does. After all said and done, food was served. We talked about - politics – sports – had a good laugh, then they left.
As an adult, I have taken time to reflect on these experiences on my timeline. The high points and also the inescapable responsibilities. It has left me with nothing but ponders.
What if I had the ability to choose my sex? What if I wanted only the factory-fitted privileges that came with being first-born male and not the exasperating responsibilities? What if I never wanted anything? Would it make me feel better?
What if this sixteen-year-old caved-in under the weight of expectations from the society? What if his squeaky voice couldn’t carry a simple prayer line? Does it mean he is socio-culturally unfit?
What if this young graduate with a job doesn’t have much for himself let alone give out? What if the weight of the responsibilities consumed him? What if he himself didn’t make it through college, would anybody care?
All these questions still remain unanswered and may not still be answered because according to the society, ‘I am the first and I was born a male’. On the contrary, there could be other families in Igbo land who don’t have a male child to inherits these responsibilities. For such families these responsibilities besides handling the kola-nut may have to fall on the first female child at best, or may not be applied at worse. In other situations, the family may be financially buoyant that the Eldest son of the family will not have to be burdened with financial responsibilities. However, he stands to inherit all benefits that accrues because of his position in the family.
Most recently, I walked into a portion of land owned by my family with a surveyor and his team. We were there to survey the land so that I could start building my own house. Since as an adult I needed to start my own family. I have 6 siblings of which 5 are ladies and the last a teenage boy. I didn’t feel much of remorse laying claim over the land because of my position in the family. Also, because, “the way the Igbo culture is patriarchally structured, a woman’s male children inherit the land” (Nwoye, 2011, p. 313). However, being the first, I am always favored to pick and heard on any issue ahead of my teenage brother. A family blessed with both male and female offspring are joyful for such favors. “But in general, masculinity dominates the gender ideology amongst the Igbos” (Nwoye, 2011, p. 313).
Fortunately, over time I have come to realize that all my actions have not been flashes in the pan. They have been carefully articulated patterns in consonance with my tradition and identity. It is no news again that I come from a patriarchal culture. It is no news that “the Igbo culture is patrilineal and kinship is traced in the male line” (Nwoye, 2011, p. 312).
I know there could have been a lot of questions surrounding my fate as the first in my family, assuming things went south. However, to live in the moment, I shouldn’t bother myself with the unknown. I shouldn’t also be burdened by the society’s narrative, ‘You were born first and you were born a male’. Rather, I have come to embrace the inescapable fact that though I was born the first and a male child, I am appreciative and have made it thus far.
REFERENCE:
Aarbakke, H. (2017). The Importance of Being the Eldest Brother and Its Relevance for New Testament Christology (Doctoral dissertation). Retrived from: https://www.mf.no/sites/mf/files/users/Bilder/Nyheter/2017/avhandling_harald_aarbakke.pdf
Nwoye, C. M. (2011). Igbo cultural and religious worldview: An insider’s perspective. International Journal of Sociology and Anthropology Vol. 3(9), pp. 304-317. https://academicjournals.org/journal/IJSA/article-full-text-pdf/35A0C542887
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