By Ewere Okonta
08037383019
www.ewereokontablog.org.ng
In many Nigerian homes today, there’s a silent struggle unfolding—one that’s as old as time but constantly evolving with every new generation: the burden of the first child, the chaos of polygamy, and the unspoken politics that brew behind closed doors. Welcome to this Sunday’s sermon—a conversation that might ruffle feathers, but one we desperately need to have.
Let’s start with a familiar scene: a polygamous household. Several mothers. One father—often emotionally and sometimes physically absent. Children raised in clusters, each group loyal to its “unit,” while the patriarch remains the godfather everyone tiptoes around. In this setting, the firstborn, regardless of gender, is often forced into early maturity, co-parenting siblings and standing in as the default adult when parents fail or fight. But here’s the punchline: Who asked them to?
In a society where parenting is already complex, polygamy complicates it exponentially. The family home becomes a war zone of shifting alliances, suspicion, and favoritism. Parenting, especially in these settings, is no longer about nurturing; it becomes a game of strategic survival. And the first child? They’re often the pawn turned player turned referee—expected to hold the family together, even when the adults fall apart.
We need to talk about the politics of inheritance—not just of property, but of responsibility. It’s 2025, yet in too many homes, the firstborn is still seen as the “junior spouse.” They’re told to “set an example,” to “sacrifice,” to “understand,” while younger siblings cruise through life with less scrutiny and more freedom. Is it fair? No. Is it cultural? Perhaps. Is it sustainable? Absolutely not.
The Nigerian home, like the Nigerian state, is deeply political. Who gets daddy’s attention? Which mother is more powerful? Who controls the family WhatsApp group? These things matter. The home mirrors the country: one powerful figure, multiple interest groups, limited resources, and a firstborn expected to lead without being formally empowered.
And let’s not even get started on gender. If the firstborn is a girl? Double wahala. She’s expected to be a mother to her siblings, cook for her father, keep the peace between co-wives, be modest, intelligent, prayerful, and successful—all while battling trauma, silent depression, and a society that tells her she’s never enough.
What’s even more disturbing is how these dynamics persist in homes that claim to be “born-again” or progressive. The church preaches love and equity, but at home, favoritism reigns. Mothers weaponize affection. Fathers play god. Children grow up either too fast or too bitter. And yet we wonder why our nation is the way it is.
So, here’s the controversial truth: many Nigerian families are breeding future leaders who are already wounded. Broken boys trying to prove they’re men, and exhausted girls who were mothers before puberty. This sermon isn’t to bash families. It’s to call us to introspection. If you are a parent—especially in a polygamous setting—ask yourself: Are you parenting or are you politicking?
To the firstborns reading this: Your struggle is valid. You were thrown into roles you didn’t audition for. But here’s your power: You can choose to break the cycle. Raise your voice. Set boundaries. Heal.
To society: Stop glorifying suffering. Stop calling trauma “training.” Stop assuming that age means capacity.
Let’s create homes where children can just be children—regardless of birth order or the marital status of their parents. Let’s stop turning family life into a Game of Thrones episode. Let’s be honest about the rot in our homes before it infects the future.
Because when we fix the politics of the home, maybe—just maybe—we’ll fix the politics of the nation.
Selah.
Ewere Okonta is the CEO of EOB Media. He is a family values advocate. He writes from the Department of Business Administration, University of Delta, Agbor.
gts2007students@gmail.com