The Sideline story

“We can’t keep coming to these events to cheer for other people’s children. We expect to also see you on stage doing something when we drive down here” My parents would say as I sat in the backseat of the car scuffing down outside food since school food was neither satiating nor tasty. In response, I would look up from my mom’s fried rice and nod. By now, I knew better than to explain to my parents that I don’t know where I lost a lot of my self confidence. Maybe at the barbers when a clipper was run through my hair changing my face to that of my youngest brother, maybe in the room I shared with my siblings when I wore my newly sewn round necked blue and white checkered dress, maybe it that evening in September 2006 after my parents drove off and I realized I was in a place where I knew a total of no one. All I knew and explained in the past was that I was shy and had stage fright.

By senior secondary school, my answer had evolved. “Everyone cannot participate” I’d tell them, “some have to pick balls at intervals and run errands to make things work behind the scenes” My new response reflected my new situation. I wasn’t still on stage but I was making myself super useful on the sidelines. The small orange tennis ball rolls off the court during table tennis, I run after it, pick it and hand it to the players. When a player moves all the energy to her foot and kicks the round white and black ball off the field, I’m there to hand in a replacement so the match doesn’t stall then follow the ball off the field to bring it back. Years later, I would find myself dishing this same explanation when asked the opposite of what that man from the car asked Funke Akindele while watching the Berlin marathon, “why aren’t you running?”

Sepember 2026, nearly 20 years later, in bed like God and the German government intended for a Sunday when a message from Whatsapp comes in, “do you have pain killers?” It could be for anything or anyone but I remembered the Berlin marathon is today. Before I can answer to ask what pain and what type of pain killer, my phone begins vibrating, the texter is the caller, I sense there’s a bit of urgency. From the call, another friend who’s running the marathon is in some pain and the pharmacy like God and the German government intended for a Sunday are closed. A few years ago, I understood uniquely why African and Asian parents steer, okay a bit more than steer their kids in the way of medicine and law. Prestige and promise of meaningful earnings aside, proximity has shown me that it's about having someone you trust listen to you and most importantly, give you free medical advice any time, any day if they’re not on call or writing exams. In July, although it was Ify’s birthday, we spent some time at the pharmacy refilling my dwindling medicine stash. Paracetamol, Ibuprofen, vitamin C, D, you know, the essentials. In the way water follows tablet, she follows the medications with instruction of how and when to use these medications. “Not more than 800mg of Ibuprofen daily and after eating, esctera,esctera.” Esctera because I don’t remember and I don’t have to because as my sister, I have her on call except when she’s on call with actual patients or writing an exam or studing for one. By the time I drop the call with Amy, I’m in my medicine stash fishing for Ibuprofen and paracetamol. I pick two cards and head to the kitchen to fill up two bottles of water for the chase.

The weather is in the early twenties with promise to get to the mids, “We will not get weather this warm this year” I tell myself as I decide against God and the German government and debut my purple short tennis skirt and ready myself for the sidelines. Last year, I had my first experience on the Berlin marathon sideline so I knew that along with the pain killers, I needed some kind of snack, water, comfortable shoes, shades, a book and a can-do attitude. Standing with my fellow sideliners, we offered motivation, sounds of support that came out in woooooo’s, pain killers and water to the marathoners and they in their chase, offered me motivation and will, no, not to run a marathon but to do my own hard thing. To move to my finish line even when its not in sight, especially then. Despite pain, period cramps, physical and worse, mental exhaustion to stalk at my thing. Even if it's not onstage, especially then.

TLDR:

Listening to:

My thoughts and cars speed past. Listening to Leon's new album on Friday got doing my lil 1,2 step in middle of my room and parlor. Happiness, anytime indeed brought me some happiness.