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Isio Knows Better: Childhood, Playfulness & the Consequences of Koboko



Isio-Knows-Better-May-2014-Bellanaija1-562x600I sincerely lay no claims to being more knowledgeable than anyone, but I do confess that better than I did yesterday, last year and a decade ago.

Isio Knows Better is an attempt to capture the shocking and highly entertaining conversation within myself. The conversations between my mind (the sharp witty one), my soul (the lover and the spiritual one) and my body (the playful one concerned with the more mundane things of life). She is the eternal referee between the caustic mind and the sensitive soul. This is Isio. So, here’s to making private conversations public.


The little me eyed the bar of metallic railing that separated the cemented floor of my dormitory veranda from the sands of the outside play area. Little Me was contemplating doing something others thought ridiculously impossible, except that she was confident that she could do it. “It is a pity I don’t have an audience…” Little Me thought to herself. “Something truly epic is about to ’apun!

Adult Me does not know how Little Me convinced herself that it would be a terrific idea to perform a gymnastic swing through the railing, but thinking back, all I remember of the next few moments were…

My belly on the bar poised for the swing…

The heady adrenaline rush as I swung elaborately upside down on the thing (gymnast style)…

The most unnatural feeling of being suspended between “two worlds”. My head where the dormitory was and my tiny feet where the play area was. As I tried to wiggle out of the cold metallic grip the evil railing had cast upon my glorious neck, I realised anxiously that I had misjudged the size of my head, and the athletic powers our matrons swore the ugly brown beans we were forced to eat twice daily gave each student. This was a lie. If I had my head back I would have gritted my teeth at this realization. But first things first… my head. I needed it back.

God must have looked down from heaven and pitied me, because after a few moments of struggling like a goat I got my head back. I didn’t even wait to find my Dunlop slippers- the second I realized I had my head back I just fled with the velocity of a galloping horse. Far far away from the dormitory and the evil railing. Useless thing wan kill me sha. Odieshi.

I didn’t speak for the next few hours.

Luckily for me it was the last day of the school term and when it was announced that Mother had come for my sisters and I, I tucked my report card into my school bag and grabbed my portmanteau from the Box Room very quietly. I noticed the astonishment of the Matron at my slipper-less feet. She didn’t ask and I didn’t explain. As horrible as it was, the encounter with the “evil railing” was already in the past. At that moment, I was more worried about the future that awaited me in Lagos.

On the ride home I gingerly consulted my report card again.

YEEEKPA! Father was not going to like this at all.

It was true. Father was an intellectual who placed platinum value on academic excellence. He gave us everything we needed and only asked for one thing in return. NO AVERAGE GRADES. Your “A”s must be more than your “B”s. Don’t be accumulating “C”s please. Two “C”s per term is one “C” too many. In my family, having a “C” was borderline fail. “D” was a disaster and a blatant fail that meant you were doomed. “E” and “F” were abominations that did not even exist in our household and had no business being in your report card. Ha! Just kidnap yourself and disappear after the school term.

My sisters were chattering away, happily comparing their grades. One said she had seven “A”s and two “B”s.

I wondered if it was too late to kidnap myself…

They wondered who would get the presents… Father always bought the one with the highest grades presents. They asked to see my report card…

I closed my eyes and played dead.

And Mother continued to drive home merrily…

Exactly two days after we got home, Father called me to bring him my report card. I wondered why he called me first. I was the last born, couldn’t he have called for the older ones first? As I stood there woodenly, reluctant to stretch forth the hand that held the report card, I tried to remind myself that I was Daddy’s little princess. The one he loved most dearly.

Surely he wouldn’t actually do anything badddd to meeeee. For sure he would scold me like he had done the last two times. I would be ashamed for a while and say that I was sorry and then I would go play, and run and practice kung-fu with decapitated broom-sticks. And while we are at it… I didn’t actually fail naaaa, So what if I got a few “C”s and “D”s. Fine, okay, only one “A” but who was counting? Besides. I was always one of the best in my class before the last two terms. That had got to count for something.

I realized I was still standing there.

He gave me “The Look”.

I stretched forth my hand.

“What is this?” Father was not a man of many words, but that day he said even less. Though he said something like – he might very well just go fling his money into the ocean, as I had decided to come home with yama-yama grades – which was especially annoying, considering the amount of money he spent on my education per term. Upon further perusal, he saw that I had failed Mathematics, and so he sent me to go bring a pen, a paper but no calculator.

I thought he wanted to tutor me o, little did I know.

He made me calculate some things shaaaaaa. Manually. My age, the total of my grades, something minus this and that, plus this- raised to power that and then divided by this, this and that. And then add that first one to the square root of this – raised to power that.

Shuo, Papa, which kain Maths be dis?

Somehow the final figure came to 88.

He said that was the number of strokes of Koboko I had earned for my yama-yama report card. I was sent to go fetch the Koboko of my choice. I started to cry.


Did he flog me? Yes. But definitely nothing close to 88 strokes. Doubtful it was even up to six strokes sef. But I screamed and ran around the compound in circles after every stroke. Either it broke his heart to see me so tormented or he was simply exhausted by my theatrics, all I know was that he ceased and let me cry it out. He later took me out for ice-cream and made me promise to do better. Father was a just man. Strict, but just.

I can tell you this, that Koboko reset my brain. In fact, it gave it a futuristic upgrade. Never again would I forget that  “D”, “E”, and “F” did not exist.. So powerful was this reset, that in the summation of all the courses I took in the years I studied in UNILAG, I can count the number of “C”s I ever had. The other students asked how I did it while working part-time. Some whispered that it was witchcraft. But it was nothing so grand. It was simply the Consequence of the Koboko. (Chuckles!)

So… can you recall you at your naughtiest as a child? Did your parents wipe you for your own good? How did it make you better? Please share.

Isio De-laVega Wanogho is a Nigerian supermodel, a multi-award winning media personality and an interior architect who is a creative-expressionist at her core. She uses words, wit and her paintings to tell stories that entertain, yet convey a deeper meaning. Follow her on Instagram @isiodelavega and visit her website: to see her professional body of work.


  1. Just asking

    September 16, 2014 at 11:17 am

    Are u saying d use of koboko is a prerequisite for success

    • gbemy

      September 16, 2014 at 11:37 am

      well she just said what worked for her and asked for what worked for u ….

    • J

      September 16, 2014 at 5:47 pm

      no she isn’t implying… but just the tot that she will be kobokobo… In my case my parents gave me some words… I was told I will be moved to another school if I don’t have good grades… only the thought of this…. my grades had fantastic upgrade…
      I think she is trying to say when parents push or insist on their kids having good grades… this makes them to aim higher…. Please not that pushing where make the child discontented despite achieving success. This is because I met some school mates despite being top in class, they were discontented with their grades or still comparing with another school mate….

  2. memoi

    September 16, 2014 at 11:18 am

    Lol, I thoroughly enjoyed this and I can relate. My mum did the beating and she’ll start with slaps from school in front of your friend chai, childhood sha. Lol

  3. pradacandy

    September 16, 2014 at 11:37 am

    This piece was worth the wait, as I kept refreshing my system to read ‘Isio Knows better’. Fantastic & hilarious as always.
    My dad only flogged me twice in my lifetime I would never forget too. One was because I was always bullying my younger bro or something like that. Boy…even thinking of that day now still makes me sad. Growing up in this part of the world is hard mheenn

  4. Daisy

    September 16, 2014 at 11:38 am

    Well…I was never flogged over results tho but I was promised bicycles…God! The deceit parents will use to get to you excel is epic. Dad promised me bicycle and I never cane below 3rd all through primary school. As the bicycle was no show, I kuku relaxed in Secondary school…then they started promising me GSM, Holy Mother of God how I passed ehn…upon all still no GSM (manage the landline). But then in d long run it was a shove in d right direction.

    • Que

      September 16, 2014 at 3:14 pm

      ?……any chance we have the same dad??….. same promises here, by uni it changed to car promise, but I already knew better!….the lessons it thought me though- not getting your wish isn’t an excuse for failure; and sometimes you just will not get everything you desire-when u want them, however much you try. In other words, Be NOT entitled… the benefits of your success will do you more good, than it will anyone else. Its called life!

      Nice to know no be only my leg them pull tire for this life…. In my papa’s defence, he remains the best leading man that ever liveth, bicycles or not, phones or not…..I eventually got waaay more!
      As for his discipline tactics, he just had to express disappointment n my soul would come crumbling…. it worked all d damn time foreva, he never beat any of us. But my mama….. hmmm….#storyforthegods #beateroflife! (Yes I said beater!)


    September 16, 2014 at 11:40 am

    Hmmm…I was always a good student, didn’t get flogged for my grades but I don’t knw wat happened during my uni days sha wish I could do over…*sighs*

  6. Lala

    September 16, 2014 at 12:19 pm

    LMAO!!! this made me laugh so hard! I can def relate. My mum was the main flogger and boy could she flog. you see that running round the house thing, dont try it with her oo. cuz she will chase you and that extra work you’ve made her do, you will pay for it. i remember once she beat my older brother (who was in primary 4 or 5 at the time) for failing maths. she beat him so bad the next door neighbor had to come and beg and offered to tutor him free of charge! that beating must have reset his own brain cuz dude is now the smartest person in our family, currently studying in Cambridge! 😀

  7. Derry

    September 16, 2014 at 12:23 pm

    This piece had me in stitches.
    I remember after PRY 2 exams, I cried so much and refused to go home with my neighbours when their mum came to pick us up, why? my position was not in the unit numbers (1-9); haaa, the fear of my father’s fan belt was real, and to think he didn’t even beat me 🙂 .I never doubted his love though.

  8. Chiomski

    September 16, 2014 at 12:36 pm

    The “evil railing” got laughing so hard! Isio you re such a full pack.

  9. Dandelion

    September 16, 2014 at 12:37 pm

    Lol Isio! My mum was the disciplinarian and I was never flogged for bad grades cos I did pretty well in school. but for other reasons one of which I shall relate.
    My mum had this rule when we were little and it was that we were never allowed to eat anything brought to our house by relatives except maybe really close ones. She always threw the things away. One fine day one of my numerous aunties (not closely related) came to see us and she brought me biscuits; I remember there were short cake biscuits in a bag. Now being a sweet mouth even though I knew the consequences of my actions, I took from the biscuits and ran into the toilet to eat them. Unfortunately for me I was caught by my dad who even though not a disciplinarian was an alakoba.
    Lets just say that the result of that mistake till today I have never forgotten. Lol. Memories.

    • Blessmyheart

      September 16, 2014 at 4:02 pm

      Sounds just like my mum. She was the disciplinarian and you could rarely plead with her, especially if you had been warned.
      Interestingly, I can’t remember any positive or negative reinforcements regarding my academic performance. Thank God for Jesus, I basically encouraged myself all through.

  10. sukie

    September 16, 2014 at 12:39 pm

    Ahhhh my mum reported me to my sunday school teacher in my jss2 and threatened to disgrace me in front of the church for yama yama grades,my sunday school teacher begged for me o , it actually reset my brain and my grades improved

  11. lollllllllllll

    September 16, 2014 at 12:44 pm

    If you know me, do not out me please. So my mum kept goldfish. She loved them and in spite of their relatively short lifespan (her words), she kept buying new ones. What she did not know was that my sister and I would every day after school, bring out her precious goldfish and take turns throwing it up to the ceiling until it stopped moving. It was a popcorn ceiling and we wanted to see if it was as dangerous as it looked.
    This went on for months until the day she came home early and stood horrified, watching her future sociopaths in action through the glass front door. The beating we chopped that day removed any traces of sociopath-ism 😀

    • The K

      September 16, 2014 at 1:12 pm

      Hahahahaha….i can imagine! Lwkmd for this bellanaija

    • Fatimah

      September 16, 2014 at 4:48 pm

      Looooool, this just made my day. future sociopaths 🙂

    • lollllll

      September 16, 2014 at 5:19 pm

      Maybe if we were boys she would have been less alarmed. After all, my cousins were skinning and roasting agama lizards for fun. And it was a culmination of so many transgressions. Weeks before, I had pretended I was kidnapped/missing, I had convinced my grandmother to let me boil a mixture of coke and ice cream because it was my homework (still can’t believe she chopped), we had tried to melt the planta for our lunch on the stove in the plastic container and my sister had called her teacher a short Blackman devil and gotten her name in the Hall Book. Can you now see that her concern was legitimate =D

  12. Amara

    September 16, 2014 at 1:18 pm

    Oh! Isio,….How i love thee
    Koboko wa always in my world. Growing up with a teacher-mom, Going to Command Ipaja and meeting a whole new level of ‘Koboko’ choi….those wicked soldiers, Moving on to Command Oshodi,…I can’t recount the experiences, i just know that growing up, Koboko and I were one. Funny enough, being flogged regularly didn’t make me immune. Each time i was to be flogged again, I cried before the cane or horsewhips touched me 😀

    • Amara

      September 16, 2014 at 1:19 pm

      sorry, koboko ‘was’

    • Amaka

      September 16, 2014 at 2:42 pm

      Heeiii…fellow ex-commando here. I was in Command Oshodi too then got a transfer to Command Ojo. Command soldiers gave a whole new meaning to koboko. Imagine being in a school where teachers dont do the flogging, all they had to do was call a soldier(who would actually be milling around and waiting eagerly for a teacher to call them to come and flog).. It was not a small something jare and 10years after, I still kinda miss Command.

    • amara

      September 16, 2014 at 2:56 pm

      lol i can relate…. also ’10 years after’ here too


    September 16, 2014 at 1:28 pm

    I had a good laugh reading through. I was too naughty not to be beaten, though I never got beaten for grades. One time, it was for eating all nine pieces of fried fish meant for diner, my mum gave me serious back slaps and amazingly my dad found it funny. He helped me dodge some of the back slaps and gave me some of his meat/fish for the next one week my punishment lasted for. There were countless silly things I did to warrant the various beatings I got. Most times, my mum wouldn’t even ask my other siblings, she just always knew I would be the culprit. And I no dey fall her hand – na me! LMAO!
    Another time, it was signing my dads’ signature on all the columns meant for his signature on my report card.
    Again, in my quest to kill/invent my own rat poison, I cut out a page of my exercise book, put a few drops of palm oil, salt, grounded dry cray fish, butter, a dried up dead wall-gecko and toothpaste- we had this tooth paste then that had red, blue and white colors. Then I placed my concoction behind my dads’ favorite chair in the living room. I spent all afternoon looking out for the rat that would fall prey. My intention was to throw the mixture away, but I forgot.
    My dad was already sweating and thinking of how to move our things to my uncles’ house in Ilorin temporarily, when my mum saw the concoction, she hissed and said, ”e ti e mo awon omo yin, ishe Busola leleyi – mtscheew, you don’t even know your kids, this one is Busolas’ handwork”. I had seen and heard their conversation so I pretended to be asleep. LWKMD! The kain slap wey my mama tey wake me ehn! story for the gods ni.
    Another day, when my mum saw some beads in an empty robb tin, she gave me a hot knock and for that one time, I cried so badly cos I didn’t put them there.
    Thanks Isio, I had a good time recounting these days.

    • Que

      September 16, 2014 at 3:26 pm

      Hahahahahahaahahaa!!! U got me laughing to tears!

    • Eniola/ Ms Catwalq

      September 16, 2014 at 4:02 pm

      Oh my God, we would have been such good friends….

    • Ada nnewi

      September 17, 2014 at 4:49 pm

      The toothpaste was aquafresh!!!


      September 18, 2014 at 1:11 pm

      Yes, thank you!

  14. Tru

    September 16, 2014 at 2:06 pm

    The part that got me laughing hard was: “Was it too late To kidnap myself.” Gosh, I can so relate!!!

  15. slice

    September 16, 2014 at 2:36 pm

    my mum was the beater. beat here beat there. just beat shaaaa. my dad beat me once that i recall and i think my mum instigated that one beating sef.. turned out he was wrong cause I didn’t even do the deed that warranted the beating. he repented o. never hit me again. my mum would have found a way to blame me for the “wrong” beating. Mama dearest 🙂

    • F8

      September 18, 2014 at 12:30 am

      Are you sure we dont have the same parents? My mum can beat for Africa, and if she finds out she was wrong, she goes on to blame it on you still, but my dad is the total opposite o, he doesnt beat, and if he finds out he was wrong about something, he apologises till you forgive him o

  16. dups

    September 16, 2014 at 2:54 pm

    Sigh, Memories! Memories! Memories! My mom was nicknamed Hitler by my siblings & I, trust me just like Amara said “Koboko was a part of our world”. We ate, slept and woke with koboko, however one of my most memorable moments was new year’s day of 2002 – I was about to start diploma in Unilag cos I had failed jamb one too many times, was gisting with all my friends (fortunately or unfortunately depends on how I want to see it) who were already in University. Of cos the next day my mom called a family meeting and insisted that my siblings have a heart 2 heart talk with me so I can tell her if I want her to use the money (160k) for my diploma to send me off in grand style to my husband’s house (didn’t even have a boyfriend den oooo) or if I wanted to go to school!

    Awwwwww Memories! need I tell you I put 160k on all my notebooks in school to remind me about that incident and that was my best year ever in University! Had 4.1 as my CGPA, but ……………………………… hummmm. Smiling

    • F8

      September 18, 2014 at 12:33 am

      My mum was nicknamed “lion of the tribe of the house”. That woman though #sighs

  17. zee

    September 16, 2014 at 2:56 pm

    I don’t want to remember what I suffered in my father’s hand all the name of correction. The marks those his koboko abi 3-in-1 left on my body would have told the story but thank God they faded away. The worst of all is that u dare not scream. Once he got to know that my mother, my biological mother, yes oh the one that biological gave birth to me was coming to see me in school, he locked me up in his room and beat/flogged the hell out of me plus curses. Am happy I didn’t die or get disfigured from those “straightening u up”

    • Mz Socially Awkward...

      September 17, 2014 at 5:21 pm

      That sounds really severe. Were your parents divorced/seperated?

  18. simi

    September 16, 2014 at 3:25 pm

    I remember when we were to come down to lagos and being the child who loved sleep… Mumsi woke me up to go boil and fry chicken for the road trip, with sleepy eyes plus wanting to speed up the process, I put on the oil and fried the Marinated chicken…. Went to say i was through mumsi came asking for the chicken stock to make jollof rice , dearest me replied ” i just fried the chicken'”…. All i can say is the sleep got formatted with Omorogun kissing my body that night

    On another occasion, my love for fire wood rice caused me to go ask for more from an aunty serving at children’s camp, from behind me I got a resounding slap that caused me to see stars, till date i don’t ask for food at parties if my table is skipped and i eat before i go out… #LovelyMemories.

  19. Muna

    September 16, 2014 at 3:31 pm

    yeeh! ‘reset’ lol! my mum was the flogger, she was such a flogger that she was nicknamed ‘the flogging machine’ in her school (she was a sec school teacher). other teachers used to ‘borrow’ her when they needed to flog their class. at home I never got flogged for grades bcos we were bright, but for other things. my last sister when she was 4 years old asked my mum for her hobby and she said she had none, and my sister went ‘its a lie, I know ur hobby, ur hobby is frogging (flogging); frogging and shouting’. we used to be given 1kobo each to buy cane (we were 5 i.e. 5 kobo coins then), but the 2 boys used up theirs very fast and she had to borrow ours when she’s broken the whole koboko on their bodies. one incident I cant forget in pry school. I was sweeping her room and found N1 (one naira note) and it was ‘big money’ then. I showed it to my brothers and they said we should not tell my mum or give it back but use it to buy some goodies. that was our first experience with ‘stealing’. we all agreed and when they went for prayer meeting, me and my younger sister went to buy the ‘buns’. it was 10kobo each, so we got ten, 2 for each of us was the plan. and as we were about stepping out of papa’s shop, lo and behold, my daddy’s car passing, on their way back to the house! (it turned out my mum forgot her glasses). we dodged quickly, hiding in the shop but it was too late, they had seen us. they asked what we were doing and how we got the money for the buns, such big money. they took us back home, got the glasses and drove off. we all knew we were ‘dead’ when they got home. we started emergency cleaning up of the house, washing and putting everything in order. after that the 5 of us gathered and started serious prayer session, begging God not to let my mum ‘kill’ us this night, that we will never steal again in our lives. when they eventually came home they were surprised to see the house spic and span, they just called us and gave us a warning on stealing, and sent us off to bed! we were in shock…no beating, no flogging?! infact, we were convinced that it was the prayers, that had God really heard our prayers. and the fear really reset my brain, stealing is a no no till today. and as a little girl i learnt that when u pray with ur heart God hears and he forgives too.

    • Beee

      September 18, 2014 at 11:17 am

      OMG I jus cudnt stop laffing with tears


    September 16, 2014 at 3:35 pm

    Isio you’ve written some pretty awesome pieces but this is by far my best. Ironically I was not beaten often as a child, I’ve just never been the stubborn type as I practically lived inside my head and just wanted to be by myself and my imaginary friends (*covers face*). That said, after reading this I wish they’d actually used koboko on my when I made less than good grades, maybe it would have made me a more serious student, especially in my Uni days.

  21. L

    September 16, 2014 at 3:42 pm

    Oh! the days of old!! I do not think anybody can have the theatrics of my younger brother…… He changes his grades using the same ink as the report card. 20 to 50, 30 to 80, 50 to 60. His report card was always a mess, a caricature, even the teachers comment will not be discernible . The beating and drama, can get an award. Lovely memories sha.

  22. Haddy

    September 16, 2014 at 4:04 pm

    Oh Lord, I’m in stitches from all the stories shared. Here’s mine:

    My mum wanted to sleep so she asked us to take care of my little brother. Being the first, it was my responsibility. Well, being children, we played so much that we forgot the little boy who went in and started disturbing mum. The first time, she sent him back to us to give him “arodan” (not sure of the spelling) which simply means we should engage him there with us. Well, the play was too much that we forgot and lil’ man still went in to disturb her. The second time, she called me to come and run an errand for her. When I got there, she asked me to bend towards her so she would whisper what she wanted to send me. I don’t know how I fell for that. As I bent my head, till today, I don’t know where the slap came from (mum had this slap we called “invisible slap” cos you never saw it coming. It would go round your head and cover your entire face!). OH MY GOD. I saw stars mehn. Then she told me to go and call the others one by one so they would receive their own slaps. Of course, I didn’t tell them what to expect. Funny enough, each person that went in to get slapped came out smiling so the next person wouldn’t know! Lol! It was like a tacit agreement. Oh, Lord. Mama dearest.

    • lollllll

      September 16, 2014 at 6:00 pm

      There’s a reason we are cousins. Is it the Ibadan in them?

    • Lala

      September 16, 2014 at 6:09 pm

      Lmaaaaaaoooooooo!!!! Im dying here! Invisible slap!hahahahahahahahahaa

    • Gbolahan

      September 17, 2014 at 9:56 am

      Oh man! How many times have i clicked “love this” on this your comment!! Rotf!!

    • Ada nnewi

      September 17, 2014 at 4:56 pm

      In a meeting and I can’t laugh here but I have tears rolling down my face from your comment!

    • Noksis

      September 23, 2014 at 4:28 pm

      Had me in stitches. You must get your own slap by force be this

  23. Esther

    September 16, 2014 at 4:29 pm

    Mehnnnnnn! Growing up with Granny had its disadvantages too! Apart from the pampering n all, everytime I offended, she’d tell me to write the date and my offence in a sheet of paper which she’d keep in her bible. When any of my uncles come around, she’d submit my sins for judgement, then those ones will flog the daylight out of my tiny self…

    • Noksis

      September 23, 2014 at 4:30 pm

      Book of memorial. grandma , grandma

  24. Koffie

    September 16, 2014 at 5:06 pm

    I was in primary 3 and we had “Open day” in school, my mum being a career woman had come to do my “Open day” just as she dropped us off at school so she wouldn’t have to leave work during the course of the day to inspect my work and comment (open day). My little brother was in kindergarten and I was supposed to pick him when my uncle came around for “open day” for his own kids and then we’d go with him. Afternoon that fateful day, my uncle came and branched my class. He signed to pick me and his kids(my cousins) were talking about the shortbread and supreme ice-cream in the car waiting for us. And so, I forgot I had a brother in kindergarten. My uncle assumed my little brother didn’t attend school that day cos Open day didn’t concern kids his age. I went with my uncle n cousins to their shop. In the evening, my dad who was just coming from Ibadan passed through his brother’s shop and picked me up. I again got a second treat that day being the first to select hoodies my Papa brought. Immediately that car entered our home gate n I saw my baby brother upstairs with my mother, I knew I was dead. I recited Hail Mary but she wasn’t with me that day. My mum lovingly dragged me to their room without hugging my dad sef and she had a wire waiting for me. She flogged me everywhere. There was no GSM and so she had been contacted through her office line to come pick her baby! The beating of that day was brutal. My dad was banging the door but it was locked. She would have killed me oo, daddy finally jacked the door n pulled her away from me. She was crying as she flogged me and I was wailing. After that day ehn, I never joked with my brother. Momsy flogged the love of biscuits, shortbread and all out of my body that day. My older brothers got all the goodies I was lobbying for in the car sef as my mouth no gree eat that night. My mum still was the one who later tended to my injuries oo. Maami…
    Morale of the story: hell hath no fury like a mother …. Ok, I’m stuck but you get the gist

    • Mz Socially Awkward...

      September 17, 2014 at 5:35 pm

      Your story towards the end made me teary (in a good way, though). When you said she was crying as she was flogging you… I could just imagine her heart being in her mouth when they called to tell her her baby had been left behind at school and then her mind contemplating the horrible possibilities that could have been reality if he’d been kidnapped or worse. She must have been so terrified and that emotion manifested into the pain she went on to inflict upon you.

      Sorry to psychoanalyse your story like this; it just really made me see the true vulnerability of mothers who experience real fears concerning their children.

    • Beee

      September 18, 2014 at 11:37 am

      Koffie ur such a case….av been crying here and laffin…my colleagues tinks am insane

    • Muna

      September 18, 2014 at 1:51 pm

      Ahhhh! koffie, u just reminded me of a similar incident o! Chai! I was in Pry 4, my last sister was in Nursery, I wld go and pick when she closes by 12.30 from her school across the road from mine, then we would all walk home together (with my other sister). This fateful day I picked her and brought her to my class, while I still had a lesson she went outside my class to play. 2 hours later at school-over, I went outside and I didn’t see her! I looked everywhere, nothing. my brother and sisters all joined, nowhere to be found! hey, how do I go home? what will I tell my mother? she used to flog me mostly bcos of my younger ones…as the ‘Ada’ I was expected to coordinate and organise them all, so any mishap from any of them I wld get flogged, it was not fair! the walk home that day was verrrryyyy looonnnnggggg! when I got home, the hot slap and beating from my mother eh! she walked me back to the school with beating all along the road to look for her, yet nothing. till evening we had not found her. then around 6pm my neighbour knocked on our door and told us that my little sister is in their house sleeping!!!! ah, how did she get there? she said she walked home on her own, and we were not yet back from school so she went and knocked on the neighbour’s door! they took her in, fed her and she started sleeping. chai! the suffering!


    September 16, 2014 at 5:28 pm

    LWKMD! @Haddy All of una wicked!

  26. beautifulonyinye

    September 16, 2014 at 5:34 pm

    I’ve been laughing so much my sister has been wondering what is so funny.Very hilarious piece and equally crazyy comments.Kai!now I feel I missed out on the ‘koboko and slaps’.No memory of been flogged by my parents but just from stupid senior bullies in secondary sch a few times though plus I’ve never being slapped all my life.Funny how these experences sound normal and funny but are called ‘child abuse’ in developed countries.

  27. lollllll

    September 16, 2014 at 5:40 pm

    My great grandmother, Iya S was a generously sized woman and that generosity was packed into 5 feet. Her arms were most ineffective for flogging consequently. When her grandchildren (my mum and her sister) misbehaved, she would send them into her room with the clay pots of old used for collecting water under the guise of getting something or cleaning the pots. While bent over, she would sneak in and lock the door and charge the corner WWE Wrestlemania style and squash the unfortunate child with her generous bum. Her elbows jabbed whatever escaped her bum. The horror.

  28. kuuks

    September 16, 2014 at 6:11 pm

    Girl your comment had me rolling on the floor….Invisible Slap

  29. tammy

    September 16, 2014 at 7:48 pm

    That invisible slap was icing on the cake, i can’t stop laughing. My sister kept asking what’s so funny? Had to send her the link. Isio u are a breath of fresh air, well done

  30. Abena

    September 16, 2014 at 8:22 pm

    Hilarious! Isio u are good! And ur father was interesting… Comment of the day goes to Hadda! Invisible slap and hiding the fact that u had bn slapped so the next person wouldn’t escape. Wikked kids.
    My father never spared us with the belt, he used to flog us soo much but my senior brother got most of it because boy was he stubborn?!
    He used to beat us either when u were in the bathroom with water on u or at dawn when the sleep was sweetest.
    My mother used her hands or the cooking utensils, never a belt, she left that to our dad.
    Did it reset us? Not really. In some cases it works, others no but we look back at it now and laugh…
    @beautifulonyinye those developed countries aren’t soo developed u know. They don’t shii about child abuse. Discipline wasn’t child abuse and our parents did it with love. Nothing beats being flogged and pampered afterwards. I love my parents, I respect them. Can you say same for those spoilt brats in the so called developed country?

  31. serene

    September 16, 2014 at 9:21 pm

    My father has only slapped me the one time…that was all it took to put the fear of God in me. I knew I’d NEVER want a repeat again. Chai!!! I misplaced all my text books at the end of 1st term. To this day I still wonder who stole them from my class locker.

  32. el patron

    September 16, 2014 at 10:03 pm

    This Article coming at the right time with the Adrian Peterson Issue.
    Back then just hearing my mums voice reset me straight up, was a ruffian at school but a gentle boy at home,can’t have bad grades because after regular school, After school lessons had a personal lesson teacher.
    But isio people though you were using witchcraft in unilag..hmmm you can sugar coat something sha.

  33. beverly

    September 16, 2014 at 10:23 pm

    Hahahaha, Isio u re funny o.My mum was Margaret Thatcher n I was very stubborn. She neva minded dat I was d last born.My mum didn’t need 2 speak, she expected us 2 look at her n instantly get it.If u dn’t, na back hand slap o.But thank God 4 dat or we wud ave ended up rotten.Bless her.

  34. girl

    September 17, 2014 at 1:06 am

    loool my dad has only beaten me once, let me tell y’all what happened- i went to my neighbor’s house and stayed there till like 9(i was about 10). strolled back to my house like a boss to see all my siblings just sitting in the parlour looking at me. Next thing they said was daddy is waiting for you… i continued my stroll into his room as i was not expecting any beating or even shouting. As i entered my dad’s room okokobioko i saw special koboko in his hand, he asked me why i came back late and i gave him what i thought was a good reason : I was waiting for my neighbors to finish frying the “chips” (fries) the flogging i got ehn(probably because of my reason, we no get food for house again now?) and my dad will make you count out loud. next day he bought me mirinda and life continued… My mum has only slapped me once also, in jss2 she picked me up from school just for us to get home she carried my bucket, looked inside and saw soaked pants the slap she tore me removed all the excitement i had from wining plenty medals in inter-house sports. She looked like she was going to cry cause my mum is a softie, didn’t talk to her for a few days till she came to say sorry.

  35. maureen

    September 17, 2014 at 4:40 am

    Nice one isio.I can personally relate to dis,truly dos koboko realy served as reset buttons.

  36. Flames

    September 17, 2014 at 7:29 am

    Lmao @ all d comments, my mom didn’t know how 2 flog, by d tym she finds cane, d urge 2 deal with u has reduced so highest u’ll get six strokes bt wen it comes 2 slaps….chai!!! She can slap 4 africa n I can relate wit d ‘invisible slap’ cos u’ll never see it coming. Like 1 day wen I overslept cos I was reading a new novel overnight, she knocked on my door 2 come out 4 morning prayer, odiegwu me dat was in dreamland. When d prayer was almost halfway done, she came n knocked again dis tym more serzly, dat was wen I hrd d knock so I drmly went n opened d door, d kin of slap I received dat morning formatted my brain 4 life, I didn’t even see her n she didn’t even say anytin, jst gave me d hot slap n left 2 join d prayer, eziokwu I received my own morning anointing 2ru dat slap n up till 2day, even if I’m nt @ home n I oversleep, wen I’m opening d door I’m standing as far away frm d door as possible 😀

    Or wen I’ll carry novels or newspapers 2 read inside d toilet, she’ll come n knock 4 me bt no b me dey hear am. 1 day, immediately I opened d door, c d heavenly slap dat landed on me I’ll neva 4get it, up till 2day I open d bathroom door with care if I feel I’ve wasted 2 much tym inside 😀

  37. Meerah

    September 17, 2014 at 7:42 am

    LMAO!! m soo loving all the naughty stories!
    well mine doesn’t have to do with grades.
    Back in high school I used to love to party. My dad didn’t like impromptu outings, he preferred to be told at least a day or 2 before the event, who I will be going with, where I will be, and when I will be back. I had been bending those rules for a while and he had been nice about it, just letting me off with a warning. But one particular weekend, my partner-in-crime informed me of a party scheduled for that evening in the afternoon, and I knew if I told my dad then that he would definitely say no, cuz the notification was coming late. So I dressed up, covered up with plain clothes, scaled the fence, went out, partied all night and went back home around 2am. I knew he knew I had gone out, so I made sure I had an ally in my brother, he was to say that I had just been outside jisting with some friends.
    omo mehn!! the following morning, popsi woke me up with koboko at 7am!! I was lying there all tired from the heels and dancing, and I was woken up with a nasty koboko lash all over my body!! He was like u have 5 minutes to come out and explain yourself.
    I went out in tears!! swearing and saying my brother could back me up, I was just outside with some friends!! God saved me that day, for popsi would have crippled me with that 3-mouthed koboko!!
    Lols. the spirit of partying went completely out of me after that!! XD

  38. Gbolahan

    September 17, 2014 at 10:18 am

    Isio! Nice one. I read all the comments too. It is funny to some of us now, it was child abuse to some. It is well. Let’s just love and discipline our children now that we are adults.
    I used to fail seriously in King’s College Lagos. It hit the roof when I lost ALL my textbooks (Ababio, Okeke…y’know, all those big books) one term like that. I was a boarder.
    When I got home for hols with my usual woeful result and all my textbooks missing, Popsy locked me in his room and FLOGGED me. I was running round his room and crying. He was chasing me round the room and he was also crying. Flogging me and crying himself at the same time.
    I didn’t change then. Still failed my SSCE. But my change started that day. I wrote GCE and got A’ in Chemistry, Physics, English and Mathematics. I’m a medical doctor now.
    Me and that man have had our differences,. But I still love him, will always love him and I wouldn’t change anything he’s ever done to me or for me.
    Mum? Heh Heh Heh…love you Ma. Your floggings are legendary. You the best and you know it…

  39. Alice

    September 17, 2014 at 10:47 am

    mhen see stories
    there is this woman my mum buys stuff from then pay month end,you know how teachers buy now .so she came for her money and me been d rude gal open the door and told her my mum isnt around and that the shoes look like deeper life shoes (no body send me oh)and i didnt tell my mum she came the next day when she returned from work she was like “alili” bia biko i ran to her thinking she had bought me one dress omo she decendment blow slap everytin rained on me that day i sang cried dat night.another time someone told my daddy dat dey saw me at one guy in our churchs house that they see me every day and i always go there immediately dey leave for work i had finished secondary school .so when my dad came bck for work we greeted him and all he was like koks! what did u do today /and im like ermm daddy i cleaned and went to a tailoring shop he enrolled me in since i no gree pass jamb lol and he was like ehen b4 i know it oh this man don lock me like say i be criminal for chest that who is the guy i always go to see that so im doing bf now upon all my MFM training …i just started pissing on my self he wrote out beating time table everyday 12 strokes for 7days after dat he barbed my hair and burnt all my short dress ..that didnt stop me ooo.. i suffered becos of him sha……kai memories

  40. ij

    September 17, 2014 at 11:07 am

    the first and last time my daddy flogged me was when i cheated in class,(long division hard me die) my grand ma was begging for my life, rightfully so because even me sef i was convinced that i was going to die.
    Luckily enough for my dad , my class teacher /lesson teacher lived in our BQ with his family , after the beating , he dragged me to the man’s house with pencil and exercise book and begged the man to teach me long division.
    Mosquitoes showed me who was boss that night because we sat outside while he taught me and i saw my dad looking at us from the balcony above, he was just looking as if he wanted to see the exact time the long division entered my brain .
    Days and months after the beating, from time to time , he will call me and say why did i beat you the other day , me sef go reply because i cheated daddy, he would nod as if to say ok you still remember , OK go .
    Gotta love my dad though

    • Mz Socially Awkward...

      September 18, 2014 at 12:17 pm

      Girl you made me laugh out loud at him calling you months later to ask whether you still remember why he beat you that day & nodding to indicate “yes, you still remember. Okay, go”. Had to come back today to finish reading the comments and I’m thinking of bookmarking this page for whenever I need a seriously good laugh. Some of the comments… *shaking my head*

  41. UB40

    September 17, 2014 at 11:26 am

    Koboko experience…………………………If koboko could reset brain ehnn by now I would have been a mathematics guru, I didn’t like maths @all and my daddy dearest did all he could for me and that subject. He made sure he registered me for summer classes specifically for maths, even made sure to come back home early so he could spend time teaching me maths, but for wu sia the subject no gree gum my brain. On this good day as usually we had scattered our books on the dining table and pretended to be reading meanwhile na lie ooh, we were watching TV when it was almost 5pm we switched of the tv and fanned it so it will cool off before popsi gets home and touches it, if it was hot then mehnn we were in plenty trouble. Anyway daddy enters the house and looks at us and we all go daddy welcome, the man says thank you minutes later he calls for me and askes me to bring my maths notes book, ooh God my faces immediately sours as me sef no gree learn the subject, in my mind am grumbling why won’t he ever ask for my English note book, Any way my people when I handed the man my maths notebook he almost collapsed, 50Leaves exercise book had turned to 10leaves note book, I had torn the book in my quest to make paper kite so tey the notebook finish, next thing I knew koboko had come out of no where, the kpokporing I received that day ehnn to make matters worse it was my maths note book I tore, kiaa I can’t forget that experience. Good old memories, thank you Isio.

    • Lala

      September 17, 2014 at 5:07 pm

      Lol. Are you cameroonian? that “wu sia” is so camroonian pidging like.

  42. miss max

    September 17, 2014 at 12:08 pm

    hehehehe, koboko also reset my brain. mine was in s.s.1. how i landed into the 2nd eleven from 1st eleven i couldn’t explain, so to avoid that drama i gave a friend my report card and lied to mama that we will be given at the resumption of the nest term(offense no 2). then one big mouth told her that we were actually given our report card. Oh God! (my mother will wake you up in the night so nobody can save you from her belt). After that incident, i knew that the 1st 3 positions were the only options i had.

  43. miss max

    September 17, 2014 at 12:09 pm

    next term plz

  44. oyaga

    September 17, 2014 at 12:58 pm

    Jesus!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I’m almost dead here trying to surpress the laugh and my boss sits directly opposite me. So after typing this, i’ll just take a walk outside and laugh my ass out.

    I don’t even remember the beatings, but i know they were alot from my mother.
    My parents are late now, so i kind of blocked out most of my childhood memories.

    • Gbolahan

      September 17, 2014 at 1:24 pm

      Lol! This story na NSFW o! You wan make dem collect work from you…! Lol… ☺

  45. boo

    September 17, 2014 at 3:08 pm

    When i was growing up my dad used to beat me and compared my little cousin to me. He killedmy ego, cos he wld call him to come and solve my questions and then told me i was olodo. Im shedding tears typing this but im happy i have masters degree today. He taught i wnt av a degree. He asked me to apply to college of education. Infact d story is long

    • Mz Socially Awkward...

      September 18, 2014 at 12:20 pm

      That’s terrible. He’s an awful person and an even worse father. Well done to you for not letting your experience limit your ambitions.

  46. lulu

    September 17, 2014 at 8:17 pm

    I cannot count the number of beatings i received from my mum. The mode, style and instrument of beating came in different forms, shapes and sizes. My siblings and I concluded she wasnt our real mother. It was that bad. My dad was the Judge. my mum took all our cases to him and most times he ruled in our favour and other times washed his hands off the case like Pontius Pilate and trust my mum to do ‘jungle Justice’ style. chai We didnt get beaten for grades or any school stuff. Just very minute’ things. The serious cases involved my 2 brothers. You know how kids think they are smart and can get away with things? LMAO.. my mum caught my brothers with blue film one time. My parents took turns in beating them. Another time my younger brother went to drink alcohol with some of his friends in our neighbourhood. After my parents beat him and took his friends to the police, they told him he would not write WAEC and took him to the village to farm for one week. Omo my guy reset himself.. The fear of village life!

  47. slice

    September 17, 2014 at 11:02 pm

    i’m not saying parents should beat or not beat although i’m certain that leaving a scar in Paterson fashion when you beat your child is going overboard. but i can’t help but think about when we grow up, for the most part, men no longer get beaten at home but a girl’s beating may just have started. about how the goodies that are sometimes given to us after a beating as kids may condition us to be accepting of that kind of repentance from our men. dad/mum beat me and “settle” it with digestive and kisses. years later man beats me and “settles” it with perfume and kisses. Just wondering out loud

    • Mz Socially Awkward...

      September 18, 2014 at 12:21 pm

      Girrlll…. you “is” making a very deep point right there. Very worthy of some proper consideration.

  48. Tyaharin

    September 17, 2014 at 11:35 pm

    OMG! Haven’t laughed so hard in forever! You guys are hilarious. My mum’s specialty back then was knocking my head till I saw stars. To this day I’m convinced my head is slightly misshapen due to all the knocks over the slightest thing. Y’all made my night

  49. yinx

    September 18, 2014 at 8:48 am

    well for me ooo i chop cane tire.. azzin… my dad used his belt while mum used turning stick and tape rule.. then after the flogging comes almighty stood down… i never liked mathematics from primary school and was always below average but performed better in English language and other subjects even quantitative cos it seemed like maths.. i remebered being flogged for scoring 40/100 in my maths and 90/100 in English and was given double promotion from primary 4-6.. oh my father flogged me like say tomorrow no dey…. i got to secondary school and my hatred for mathematics continued… upon getting to uni i was in faculty of arts to study Linguistics and never had anything to do with maths.. many certificates and Masters to show for it.. i proudly say it to my dad’s face that i don’t know maths and never will and even ask him to help me calculate especially via phone call… my calculator is always in may bag. the man has left me to my own since i excelled everywhere except maths….lol parents sha

  50. honeyposh

    September 18, 2014 at 9:34 am

    it so happens that i was always coming 1st in class, then all of a sudden due to over confidence i relaxed,then i came 3rd,next class i came 5th shuo, dad just pulled over 1 day i said child it seems you really love odd numbers, hope the next one wont be 7th or else, no more cloggs ( a shoe that was in vogue den).zap that threat worked magic, i was topping d class, but no cloggs o

  51. honeyposh

    September 18, 2014 at 9:49 am

    but my mom was anoda story,bite ur nails,a knock landed,laugh while eating na slap,one day a frend of mine said while her mom was beating her she faked fainting, her mom dropped d cane and rushed her to d hospital, i tried it with my mom,omo the woman continued d beating, i had to stand up and ran for my life mom mom choi her slap could make a deaf person regain hearing

    • kuuks

      September 23, 2014 at 5:38 pm

      @honeyposh u are wikked…chai. I nearly lost my job from laughing out loud. ur mom is too much…”wiping tear”

  52. Isioma

    September 18, 2014 at 5:00 pm

    Nice piece Isio, my mum did most of the beating in my house and that helped tame us properly especially my three younger bros. My dad didn’t beat us much but didn’t encourage us either. I remember one time when my immediate younger bro and myself we to resume school (boarding house) the following day, we got into a fight and took it to the street. Con see people wey gather lol, including hawkers, meanwhile popsi went to buy provs for us. He came back and met the live wrestling match created by his children, my wonderful dad sent us to bed without dinner. I felt that was fair

  53. Hadassah

    September 24, 2014 at 8:46 am

    LoL.. Isio.. I have a crush on you #nohomo plusI love you in GidiUP (you all should check it out..super cool)
    Anyway, I remember one day in primary school.. My father asked me “What is a Score”; My Reply: “A score is a goal”.. omolomo me…lool.. how was I supposed to know that a score is 20 and a dozen is 12 in mathematics
    Nevertheless… I received some lashings which reset and shapened my mathematics future forever..
    Come to think of it.. today I am an engineer!

  54. Outofmybox

    September 24, 2014 at 2:37 pm

    Hilarious as a writer I hope one day soon to be marginally as good as you
    Please check out my blog and leave feedback

  55. sweetjoy

    September 24, 2014 at 2:56 pm

    All these comments got me laughing loud and crying at same time. it brought memories as well. Mine wasn’t different, My Dad was strict but doesn’t beat,he wakes you up at 2am and starts to give you the talk of your life,in fact how i dread that talk becos it can make you shed tears all day long, My Mum(RIP) was a champion in flogging, as a school teacher,we dare not bend the rules at home.i always remember this incidence in school where i received the beating of my life,there is this bully boy in primary school,he bullied me so much……always taking my pencils and sometimes slapping me in class, so one day just to spite him,i told him “you are born by mistake”(Neva=er knew where such words came from). the boy ran to my Mum’s class to report.. the next thing i saw after break time was the Iron Lady, the beating she gave me,till date its still fresh in my memory. she flinged me to the wall, in short i thought i was going to die. Even now as a Mother myself,i cant open my mouth to abuse anyone,it really reset my tongue and brain.

  56. myopinion

    September 29, 2014 at 1:22 pm

    he’s not awful, that her father acted that way was to him what he taught was best, u cant judge a man for comparing children, his understanding was limited doesnt mean he dint love him/her and wished them well


    September 29, 2014 at 3:08 pm

    Hmmm,this Monday started slowly but reading this piece and the comments is making me laugh and bringing back memories.My mum,iye Jumoke,Iya Ijebu,Margret Thatcher,Senior Thunder,Iya Teacher,she has so many titles.I am the only girl with 3 brothers and also the first born.The beating no get part 2.My mum had a special recipe.She doesn’t koboko or pankere,she has a special delicacy made from electricity wire and made into knots. Kai,one strike and you are dead.Once my mum ask any of us to meet her in my parents,its likely you are in for it. My mum,her beating does not have any boundary,home,church,school,market,kitchen anywhere.There was a time a close family friend died at childbirth and my parents had to nurse the baby for a while.Every where was quiet but i was busy playing football with my brothers.My mum used my ear as an anchor and took me to the backyard where she gave me the beating of my life.I slept immediately and woke around 7pm.I thought it was day break and greeted her again good morning ma,kai, she landed another hot slap on my cheeks for been confused.On another Christmas day,I burnt the chicken for an outreach and she gave me one hot slap that led to bleeding in my conjunctiva .She did show remorse oh,she simply said its to make me concentrate better.Well those beatings helped because for me,the fear of Iye Jumoke is the beginning of wisdom.

  58. ebony87

    October 9, 2014 at 3:01 pm

    I laughed, i cried, almost peed on myself……………….Isio, you sure know how to make one’s day deliriously joyful . Oh the wonderful childhood memories. Did anyone notice that most of the beaters are mothers and that fathers are usually the calm ones??? Yet, we never cease to sing the song “sweet mother, i no go forget you, for the suffer way you suffer for me.” Hehehehehe. Mothers sure are amazing. My mum’s kobokorization is something only the gods can fathom but still, she makes my world complete and has groomed by siblings and i to be respectable individuals by her love and rod.

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