Family Weekend

As is the denomination practice, a weekend is set aside annually for family day celebration, tagged “Family Weekend”. It was the first I would celebrate with the parishioners in the church at Gbaukuchi village. I had planned with Missus on how the day would play out. I taught about the importance of the family as laid out in the manual for the program. I spoke about love and power of expressing it. I asked the men what they do for their wives to show appreciation and most of them were silent. Some said they give their wives money occasionally to buy wrappers during festive seasons. When the same question was put to the women, they were silent too but some said they would sometimes cook their husband’s favorite meals. Hmm the usual and traditional stuff! As a husband, you give your wife money for festive clothes (when you can afford it) while as a woman you cook your husband’s favourite meal when he has made you happy or when you want something from him…as passed down from generation to generation.

I had to explain to them the importance of showing love and the things they could do to show appreciation to their spouses. It got interesting when I told the men about celebrating their wives on their birthdays. I highlighted waking up early in the morning to pray for their wives and giving them gifts, which should be what they can afford, or probably cooking for their wives on such days. I asked the men who among them had ever done something like that, and there was a grave silence, followed by a murmuring. Since they spoke in Gbagyi I did not understand what was going on. It was then the interpreter whispered to me saying “Pastor, they don’t know the birthdays of their wives” I was shocked. I asked the men if this was true and they answered in the affirmative. None of the men knew the birthday of his wife! My jaw dropped! I chastised them for this and stated that it was wrong. Why would they not know the birthdays of their wives? 

Members of the Village Church During Thanksgiving

Suddenly one of the men raised up his hand and asked in Hausa which was translated by my interpreter. 

“Pastor, before you blame us for not knowing their birthdays, ask them if they know their own birthdays”. I was taken aback.

I asked the women, “do you know your birthdays?” Silence.

“If you know your birthday, please raise your hand.” Silence again. The interpreter just started smiling. One person among the women said “we no know oh”

I asked the interpreter if this was true and he said yes. All the women did not know their birthdays or dates of birth! I sat down for some seconds and shook my head. I apologized to the men but discovered that most of them too, did not know their dates of birth. The problems in the village were more than what I envisaged. The level of illiteracy was beyond not being able to read and write. It was and is still all-encompassing. As in why would young men in their thirties and women in their twenties not have records of their birthdays in the twenty-first century? Then, it dawned on me. Most of them were delivered at home without the aid of doctors and medical workers. They were nursed in the village, and nobody took records of their births. These people do not exist in the national database: no National Identification Number, no driver’s license, no school records. 

I managed to round up the family weekend celebration, but the excitement had waned. As I drove home, so many thoughts clogged my head. How will development reach this people?