Fathers, Daughters And Superheroes

One of the earliest memories I have of my father is a story he told us when we were very young. I can't say exactly when because I have a lot of memories that go as far back as when I was two years old. My father used to tell us random stories when we were kids. That story about the tortoise and the cracked shell that everyone knows? I didn't read it. I heard it from my father.

I'm in my twenties and he still tells stories. They're just a little different now. When I started writing this, I thought I was going to start with the superhero story he told me about some random man in Benin history, but it just hit me that my father is my superhero.

I'll talk about the story but I'll tell you a little about him.

One day, my dad took my sister and me to visit a family friend. They had a crazy dog. When we got into the compound, the dog somehow got out of the cage and started running at us. I was really little so my father just picked me up. He couldn't pick my sister up too, so when the dog got close to her, he slapped it so hard that it just turned around and walked away. It was terrifying. 

I'm tempted to pick up my phone and ask if he remembers this day, but I'm pretty sure he doesn't. I guess at some point, protecting your kids just becomes a normal part of every day of your life, like breathing.

A part of me has always relied on my dad to fix things, even after I became an adult. Sometimes I think I'll never get to be really independent. It used to bother me a lot. But now I've just accepted that I'm extremely lucky. I'm a girl with a great dad and that's probably the coolest thing ever.

The story my father told me was about a town in Benin that was being terrorized by a very big bird. In the evenings when children would come out to play, it would come down from the skies and steal one child away and no one would ever see the child again.  It went on for a while and no one knew what to do. They couldn't track the bird since none of them could fly.

They just did their best to be careful and warned their children to stay indoors. But you know kids. All their safety tips didn't stop more and more children from being taken by this bird.

The king of the town was desperate so he offered a reward to anyone who could kill it. As huge as the reward was, it wasn't enough motivation for anyone to step up. Every market day, the king would increase it. Still, no one was brave enough to try. 

In almost all the stories I've heard, kings never do any of the work. They're good at offering rewards though. You'd think they'd want to save their money and just take care of the problem themselves. Well, I guess people have been throwing money at their problems for as long as humanity has existed.

Sorry for the digression. Back to the story.

Disaster struck again in this unfortunate town. The bird took away yet another child. The entire town went into mourning for the umpteenth time. They had lost count of the children that had been taken.

I can't remember where some guy came from and why he didn't decide to kill the bird earlier but the point is, this guy showed up from nowhere and convinced himself that he was going to do it.

One evening, all the children came out to play as usual. This guy had spent most of the day heating a long rod. When evening came, he was ready.

As expected, the bird appeared. It lowered itself to the playground expecting to take home one of the young children for dinner. But instead of a yummy meal of flesh and bones, all that went down the bird's throat was a hot metal rod. I remember my father saying that the bird's mouth was always open and the new guy used it to his advantage. Another reason why you should close your mouth while you're eating.

The bird died on the spot and the people finally had what they wanted- salvation and a hero.

Now that I think about it, that the guy wasn't exactly a superhero. You need to have special powers for that, right? All this guy did was stick a rod down a bloodthirsty bird's throat. Anyone with a death wish can do that. I'm kidding of course. If he really did exist (which he didn't), he was a solid guy; a real hero.

I like to think we all have heroes. It doesn't necessarily have to be a leotard-wearing, cape-hugging action figure. I don't think that outfit would work in Nigeria anyway. Great fashion statement, but a horrible idea in this weather. For some of us, it's everyday people like my dad who showed up at my primary school one time to confront a teacher who insinuated that I was an "ogbanje" because I used to get sick a lot. For you, it could be anyone. Heroes come in different sizes and different people. Anyone who makes you feel seen, loved and protected, that's what a hero looks like.

I may be in love with Captain America and have secret plans to run off and join the Avengers, but my father is my first hero and that's something a million avengers could never compete with.