Joanna Bome Kure

Baby J,

Hello, hello! Good evening. This is your much older self, writing to you at the cusp of the ultimate year of my twenties. Before you read further, please keep a dictionary beside you because you will learn new words today.

You are very much asleep at the time of my writing this letter, but when you wake up, you will be ten years old; such a milestone for a big girl like yourself. Mummy and Daddy are not there to mark today with you, but you will get a call from them and feel all the love in the world. Nonetheless, today, you would also feel all the unfairness in the world. You will wonder why as you rain tears with the heavy July clouds. That is the reason I am compelled to write to you today.

Mr O, the head teacher, will flog you today because you forgot to tell Mummy and Daddy that you have Common Entrance Exams to write. Whether that flogging is necessary is a different matter altogether, and I will not dwell on it. However, I am concerned about you in the aftermath as you grapple with the unfairness of being flogged today. Baby girl, it is not going to get easier.

While you are still a child, there is no denying that you will now be more aware of the world. Your body will change, and so will your emotions be so strong and so full even from today. You will develop an existential angst to be grown up. I wish you would hear me as I say, “Do not be in haste to grow up,” but I know you will not. Still, I have to try. First, what I want you to know is that what will be will be. That song Que Sera, Sera has always held a special place in your heart, fascinating you to tears because it stirs your heart deeply. Will I be pretty? Will I be rich? I wish you would understand that there are more important things than your prettiness and riches, but hard as I may try, your little heart could never comprehend. Needless to say, you are going to be pretty. The jury is still out on being rich.

As I said, what will be will be, and on that journey, know now that a steady Hand will guide you through. This is what I want you to hold on to the most – your identity as a child of God. It is the red thread that holds all of your many loves together. Do not be tempted to carry on for yourself the endless isms that the world distributes as labels. To know yourself, you have to continually know God. This, I repeat, is the foundation of your identity.

When your identity is firmly rooted in Christ, you will find it easier to live life purposefully, even if it does not pan out exactly as you imagined. I know you want to be Miss World when you grow up, but when it does not happen, do not worry. You will be who you need to be, and it will also be as beautiful as the moment Agbani Darego was crowned Miss World.

Embrace failure. I know you will not agree now because failing Mathematics is quite shameful. But you will realise, as I have now, that not everyone is supposed to understand mathematics. In fact, if you were not so bad at it (I am sorry to say), you would not be who you are meant to be. Your failures will teach you more about yourself than any school could. Failing will teach you compassion, humility, patience and wisdom importantly. Speaking of wisdom, pursue it because your life depends on it. Where to find wisdom? Start with the Bible. That is where all the insight in the world starts. But read other books too – stories and histories. The more you read, the more you really understand what the world is about – how it works.

Do not be afraid of detours. Your well-meaning society will condition you to believe your life should follow a linear progression and peak at a certain age; start school at age two and be married at age twenty-five with a blooming career in Medicine (and Law as the acceptable exception). I know you will work hard to satisfy the requirements of society, but when you find yourself leaving the path, whether by a fault of your own or not, do not be alarmed. That is when the real you, not the programmed you, will start to shine.

Thoughtful restraint should be one of the pillars of your life. Do not be hasty to speak, but listen more. Listen to what is said and unsaid, and be careful how you pass judgment. The same measure you judge others would be the same measure others will judge you. And learn to think for yourself. Critical thinking will be rarer as you grow older. But that also does not mean that you should say everything you think. Many things are better left unsaid.

You will be a secondarian in a few months. The exams you are being flogged for today will lead you to the secondary school that will contribute to moulding you. Regardless, enjoy yourself at Secondary School because you will see those years as the simplest of times.

I used to roll my eyes at people who wrote letters to their younger selves. I thought it was sickly sweet and utter nonsense. Now I see it is not. And I find this has turned out to be more for me as I turn twenty-nine than for you. It seems that I am perhaps making peace with certain times of my life, or maybe I am taking stock of my life’s journey till now, or I am reminding myself of what matters, or perhaps I am doing it all. I do not know.

Baby J, my letter to you might make little to no sense, but rest assured you will learn to be proud of your years as you grow – the tears, laughter and lessons learnt. I love you so dearly. Happy, happy, birthday. I wish you many happy returns. Hip, Hip, Hip! Hurray!

With love,

Your much older self.