Before you force your child to study a course he doesn't like, pls read this story:

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"Dr. Ebuka Okeke was the most famous young doctor in Nigeria; his fame had spread from his state to other states like a wild harmattan fire on dried grasses when he returned from Great Britain, clothed in an impressive certificate. NTA frequently pontificated that he was the first Igbo man that studied Medicine and Surgery at Oxford University.

Newspapers and magazines had his face grinning on the cover pages. But he was not happy; he regarded himself as the most unhappy man in Eastern Nigeria. In fact, Dr Ebuka Okeke wished he was not born; he wished the floor would open and swallow him. He wished he had the temerity to take away his life. Many people envied his opulence and he envied their happiness. He wished he could swap moods with those people, those poor but happy people.

He sat up in his bed and lit a cigarette. God, why didn’t you strike me dead when I decided to study medicine? He thought gloomily, as hot sweat poured down his worried face. He tossed his cigarette into the ashtray in anger and it sent up a plum of smoke.

A bee buzzed musically round the artistically furnished bedroom and then perched on the artificial flowers; the rose quivered in the light breeze and the bee flew up in a hurry, as if it had forgotten something so essential in the bees’ kingdom. The window louvres were it’s stumbling block. The bee quarreled with the louvres, buzzing with monotonous regularity; then

rushed at Dr. Ebuka, as though to attack him for closing the louvres. It buzzed round and round Dr Ebuka’s head. Furious, he caught it, threw it on the ground, and stamped it to death with the sole of his shoe, as though the bee was the cause of his unhappiness, his misery.

He stared resentful at the dead bee, and the memories of his gravest mistake came rushing back. His gravest mistake was the day—was it ten years now?—when he resolved to study Medicine. He shuddered at the memory and bit his lower lip.

When Ebuka Okeke turned 17, his conceited father purchased a JAMB form for him and compelled him to study medicine, albeit he had told his father and mother–may her gentle soul rest in peace–that he preferred fine and applied arts to every discipline on this planet.

Young Ebuka shook his head and said, “Daddy, drawing or painting gives me joy. It is my forte. I detest natural sciences.” “You must study Medicine or I will strangle you to death!,” his father roared. “Who are fine artists? Poor chaps who paint houses and naked women and sign-boards–“

“Daddy, I will paint naked women and ladies and gentlemen as well,” the lad said in his low innocent tone. “I’ll paint you and Mum and hang it on the Niger Bridge for everyone to see.”

His father’s eyes flashed fire. ” Don’t be cretinous, you knucklehead!” he thundered. ” Look, we are from Onitsha, and not one of those small towns in Nigeria. Nnamdi Azikiwe, Philip Emeagwali, Chike Obi, etc are Onitsha people. We have the best lawyers in Nigeria; we also have medical doctors.

So why do you want to be different? Why do you want to embarrass this great city? God! Mrs. Iweka, my neighbour, will laugh at me if she sees my son drawing and painting breasts and houses!–In short, if I see a pencil in your hand I will kill you!”

“Daddy, I know that medicine will fetch me money . But it cannot bring me joy. Money is not everything. Let me paint and draw naked women and the blue sky. Let me draw a smiling frog and dancing toads. Let me draw a boy who is giving his love a flower. Let me paint the Passion of Christ. Let me follow my dreams, Dad. I have been obeying you since I was born, Daddy, and I beg you to let me disobey you now and follow my dreams. Please, Daddy.”

“Then you will be paying your tuition fees, useless brat!” his father said, and stormed into his room. His father was well known for his morbid obsession with professional courses: medicine, law, engineering, etc. And Ebuka did not know how to alter him.

For weeks, Ebuka cried under the Udara tree, telling himself that he would never read medicine. Over my dead body, he thought, as he scrambled to his feet. The fear of being abandoned on the campus by his father, however, compelled Ebuka to study medicine overseas.

He would be drawing the pictures of women’s breasts in class while his white professors taught them, the students, human anatomy, life cycle of a cockroach, and other equally boring things.

How he made good grades and graduation never ceased to amaze his allies and foes.

Back in Nigeria, the best hospitals, like hungry dogs, dived him like a bone. He chose General Hospital, because there was a corner for him to draw and paint.

Oftentimes he would leave his dying patients and sneak into the corner to draw Tom and Jerry and paint a smiling frog. One morning, foggy and windy, a dying daughter of the State Governor was rushed into the hospital in a trolley. She was trembling like a jellyfish and her eyes popped out like an owl’s.

The first thing Dr. Ebuka wanted to do was: drop his stethoscope, pick his pencil and draw her on a cardboard and hang the picture in his toilet. In fact, at night, he sat beside the dying girl and drew her breasts on a cardboard and painted the left breast yellow; he was painting her right breast green and white–the colours of Nigerian flag–when the State Governor came into the ward and caught him by the neck and flung him against the wall.

Then the State Governor picked a bucket and rushed at him. If the nurses had not interfered the fat State Governor would have flogged Dr. Ebuka to death with that red bucket.

The girl eventually gave up the ghost and he lost his job. And when he opened a private hospital at Awka, no one knocked at the door. His reputation was ruined. Every Okeke and Okafor schmoozed that he preferred to paint frogs and breasts to his “medical call”.

All his friends disappeared since he was now jobless. Even the one-eyed girl he wanted to marry left him and married a one-eyed man at Nsugbe. So here he was in his room, shaking his head and lamenting that things have fallen apart.

Then suddenly an uncontrollable feeling of hatred for his father came over him; he picked the gun in his drawer and trapped downstairs. His old father was drinking palm wine under the mango tree and grumbling over The Sun newspaper.

When he saw the gun in his son’s shaking hand he dropped his elephant tusk and staggered to his feet. “I’m sorry daddy, but I have to kill you,”he said, and his father began to tremble like the mango leaves. “Please, Ebuka! Please! Remember I am your father,”

“I remember you destroyed my life.I loved painting and drawing, Dad, but you compelled me to study the course I detested. I told you that I would never make a good doctor, but you wouldn’t listen.

Now my life has crashed down. I have lost everything, including my one-eyed sweetheart. “

“Please drop that gun,” his father pleaded. “Please drop it first. Shooting does not fit you–You are not a hunter and I am not a wild animal. Drop the gun and let us drink palm wine and talk about Buhari’s lopsided and mad appointments.”

“Rest in peace,” Dr. Ebuka said, and pulled the trigger. His father’s chest burst open and and he landed on the grass; blood carpeted the ground.

A loud cry came from the tree and he looked up.

Musa, his father’s servant was in the tree, staring at Dr. Ebuka. His heart began to hammer in his chest. For a moment the compound was enveloped in silence. Then Dr. Ebuka staggered back and fainted. When consciousness descended upon him, he blinked his eyes open and saw a giant policeman staring at him.

He looked around. Good God! He was handcuffed at the police station. He stumbled to his feet and thought, Who brought me here? The days crawled by and he was tried. The day he would be sentenced to death, the executioner asked him if he had anything to tell Nigerians.

He lifted his head in agony and said, ” First of all, I want to implore God to forgive me my iniquities and accept my soul…My advice? Tell parents to let their children follow their dreams. No course or subject is insignificant. And now hang me immediately. I can’t wait to join my Creator.”

They took him and hanged.""

Arinze Esomnofu for Naij,com

source

https://www.naij.com/551734-sorry-daddy-kill-born-artist-doctor.html

Nice story. I studied what I have no passion for. I wasn't forced or compelled but I was scared of baring my mind. I thought I will develop some love for the course along the way but I was wrong. Don't make the same mistake.





SUMMARY: FOLLOW YOUR HEART AND PASSION. #Peace

mercielizzie:
Nice story. I studied what I have no passion for. I wasn't forced or compelled but I was scared of baring my mind. I thought I will develop some love for the course along the way but I was wrong. Don't make the same mistake.





SUMMARY: FOLLOW YOUR HEART AND PASSION. #Peace

Thanks for sharing..... What can i say? May be I should ask, how then did you carry on after school? You switched career or you are still stuck along the line of that course you didn't like?

KLand:



Thanks for sharing..... What can i say? May be I should ask, how then did you carry on after school? You switched career or you are still stuck along the line of that course you didn't like?

still a serving corps member but I am planning to switch career. I pray I get a job with this my degree and I will go back to school using my earnings. Hope I answered your questions?

Unfortunately this thread will mislead many, This is Nigeria so its better to study smtin that will put food on ur table first then You can study ur passion after that.

I loved music but cos I was brilliant Mom forced me into Electrical Engineering. I have a M.ENG now tho and seriously working towards a PhD in Engineering.

Funny enough I work where I don't even like one bit...A bank. But it pays the bill for now.

My dream now is to cross to the academics and earn my PhD in Engineering.

I have realised my love for music is fuelled by the possibility of reaching and influencing a wider audience of young adults.

Which will even be more realistic if I combine a lecturing career with music.

Your passion does not necessarily have to be your profession.$

Strive to earn money first, pursuing ur passion will even be easier.

I learnt something from "3 idiots" - follow your talents and work will become play.

Parents should only guide their children in their choices but not make the choices for them.

Nice one Op

mercielizzie:
still a serving corps member but I am planning to switch career. I pray I get a job with this my degree and I will go back to school using my earnings. Hope I answered your questions?

I wouldn't know about your career goals, but be aware that banks and several other organisations employ fresh graduates irrespective of the course of study. What matters is for you to be able to hold your own when it comes to test and interview. I wish you goodluck.

mercielizzie:
still a serving corps member but I am planning to switch career. I pray I get a job with this my degree and I will go back to school using my earnings. Hope I answered your questions?

When you read this post in 5 years time you will laff and almost faint.

Very comical thinking, seriously bro this is best described as hallucination. Trust you aint going back to start bsc over again.

I wanted to become a medical Dr. But I ended up studying engineering what did I do? I continued studying, now I have the M.Eng and will soon add the PhD. Which in a way has made me a Dr. Too though not a medical one.

So start thinking realisitically as ur mates will be getting married and buying cars and you will be running around with another 100level except youu wanna travel abroad.

The only course in Nigeria worth doing that for is Medicine. And yes my immediate elder bro did exactly that after reading anatomy .

He is a medical Doctor today.

Guitarlife:
Unfortunately this thread will mislead many, This is Nigeria so its better to study smtin that will put food on ur table first then You can study ur passion after that.

I loved music but cos I was brilliant Mom forced me into Electrical Engineering. I have a M.ENG now tho and seriously working towards a PhD in Engineering.

Funny enough I work where I don't even like one bit...A bank. But it pays the bill for now.

My dream now is to cross to the academics and earn my PhD in Engineering.

I have realised my love for music is fuelled by the possibility of reaching and influencing a wider audience of young adults.

Which will even be more realistic if I combine a lecturing career with music.

Your passion does not necessarily have to be your profession.$

Strive to earn money first, pursuing ur passion will even be easier.

From your nice story, if you ask me, I would say you like engineering, your mum's role in studying it not withstanding. You are clearly cut out for the academics... it's a matter of time. I mean how many bankers like you are thinking of a PhD?

Music can be your hubby now or even after your PhD. What I don't know is how far you want to take it. Goodluck all the same.

ggirl4real:
I learnt something from "3 idiots" - follow your talents and work will become play.

Parents should only guide their children in their choices but not make the choices for them.

Nice one Op

On point

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ggirl4real:
I learnt something from "3 idiots" - follow your talents and work will become play.

Parents should only guide their children in their choices but not make the choices for them.

Nice one Op

Thank you.