Not The Perfect Shoes

I felt how heavy it was to work in my father's shoes for the first time that early morning.

It had rained heavily last night. Everywhere smelled of wet earth and burning firewood. I could hear Mama's roosters crowing lazily in the distance. Unlike the city, the village woke up slower than I was used to.

I sat on the front porch staring blankly at the world. Suddenly I heard my little sister tap me from behind.

"Bro, it's almost time." She said.

I turned and looked at her. Without a smile, nod, or a blink. I followed her back into the house and straight to Papa's bedroom. On his bed was Papa's kaftan I was meant to wear that morning. I stood facing the wooden wardrobe mirror and threw the kaftan over my head. It hung loosely on my shoulders, the fabric brushing my ankles. I turned and glanced at his neatly polished shoes with no cracks after years of dust, sweat, and silent footsteps. Then I put them on. It was more comfortable than I had thought.

I was startled as I stood up to see Mama standing in the room. She leaned on the door frame and watched me.

"How long have you been standing there?" I asked.

"Are you sure this is what you want to wear?" Mama asked instead, ignoring my question.

I nodded. "It's tradition. I have to"

She was silent for a moment and didn't press further. Her eyes were soft but unreadable yet there was so much pain in them.

"You remind me of him when he was young." She said, Her voice was laced with tears.

I walked over to her and tried to hug her. But she pushed me away and walked out of the room. I stood and watched her as her footsteps faded into the stillness of our compound.

I got outside to see everyone seated. Apart from distant aunties and uncles who argued about which clan owned which food truck and drink. Plus the little children who ran barefoot across the red sand. No other persons seemed unaware that something had shifted in the heart of our home.

Papa was gone.

Not on a business trip, or did he leave for the farm? But he was truly gone. Forever.

I knew all this, yet somehow, I still felt his presence in the wind. It was like he was still here, whispering to me to hold on tight and let go of my fear.

My fear of not being able to fill the void he left. The responsibility fell on me at that moment. I could see it from the way my family, uncle, and aunts looked at me. Like I was the next big thing in the family. I could see the way they listened while I spoke. Waited for my decision. Papa was the richest in the family and also the eldest.

Severally, I had walked past them, nodding to their requests, replying in silent voices, and attending their frequent meetings with little or no idea of what I was doing.

I wasn’t ready.

“Tunde,” I heard Uncle Fola call.

I walked up to him, sat beside him, and swallowed hard.

“You’re supposed to speak later,” he said.

I stared at him. With questions in my eyes. Questions that asked why?

“Don't worry, it's just a few words. Everyone is expecting you to say something as the first son.”

I looked at the ground. And wrote unrecognizable words with my shoes. “What am I supposed to say?”

“Something. Anything. As long as it's from the heart,” he tapped my shoulder. “I know it's not easy filling those shoes. But you'll get used to it with time. Remember, it doesn't have to be perfect. It just has to be from the heart "

I wanted to tell him how scared I was. How I wished it was all a dream. How I felt like a boy in a man's shoes.

But I swallowed it all and nodded my head.

"Okay, sir," I replied. Then I walked back to my seat.

Soon the ceremony began. From hymns to prayers. Then I was made to stand and speak to the crowd.

I stood there on the makeshift stage. Hands shaking and lips dry. The afternoon sun against my skin. I looked into the crowd, took a deep breath and spoke.

“I never knew how much Papa carried until he was no longer here,” I began. My voice was low, cracking. “He made it all look easy. Attending the meetings and finding solutions to problems before sunrise. Giving, even when he had little. Lovingly… quietly. He did all these things without complaining.”

I looked at the crowd. Some were nodding their heads. Then I saw Mama as her tears flowed.

“Being a man is about having strength. That's what I've always thought. But Papa's life on earth has shown me that real strength isn't in the weight you carry. But how much weight you carry without showing it.” I paused and took a deep breath. Then I continued again.
“I won’t pretend not to be scared. Scared of filling his big shoes." I looked at Papa's shoes I had on. "But I promise to do my best and try to be half the man he was. And maybe, one day, these shoes will fit better.”

I got down the stage and walked straight to Mama.
"Can I hug you now?* I asked.

She nodded.

I held her close like my life depended on it.

I was sure she needed that hug and I needed it too. I pulled her away and wiped her tears. Then I signaled my sister to come closer and I hugged them both.

Later that evening, I sat beside Papa's grave. Then I made a promise to fill the shoes he left for me perfectly. I promised to wear it like a second skin. Although it might be uncomfortable at first. But I was sure with time it'll become a part of me.

Photo by Lukas: