By Ewere Okonta
08037383019
In every Nigerian home, whether in Lekki or Lokoja, there is always a parliament in session—and often, the first son is either the Speaker, the Whipping Boy, or the sacrificial lamb. This midweek, let’s talk about the unspoken constitution of the monogamous Nigerian family, where parenting is half instinct, half performance—and the first son carries the full burden of legacy, leadership, and lingering expectation.
Let’s be honest: parenting is war. A holy war, yes—but still war. In monogamous homes where the man is faithful (or, let’s say, discreet), and the woman is multitasking between love, discipline, and surviving Nigerian fuel prices, the children become the battlefield where dreams, trauma, and traditions clash. And right in the middle stands the first son—our dear heir apparent.
The First Son: A Blessing or a Burden?
From the moment a first son cries in a Nigerian hospital ward, the parents begin to whisper: “He will carry my name.” The mother glows. The father beams. And by the time the boy is eight, the expectations have grown heavier than the national debt.
He’s expected to set the example. Wash plates, mind younger ones, attend the best schools, get straight As, suppress tears, avoid pregnancy scandals, marry a wife that “will not scatter the family,” and—God forbid—never become “an embarrassment on Facebook.”
If the boy fails, it’s either the mother’s fault (she coddled him too much) or the father’s fault (he didn’t raise him like his own father did). And if he succeeds, suddenly uncles and aunties appear from nowhere to say, “We always knew he would make us proud.” The same ones who didn’t send him ₦5 during JAMB prep.
Parenting in a Monogamous Nigeria
In today’s Nigeria, where school fees can assassinate bank accounts, parenting is no longer just about feeding and clothing; it’s now crisis management, emotional intelligence, and digital detoxification. You’re raising children in a world where TikTok teaches more than school and Google is the new uncle.
Parents now compete with influencers for their children’s attention. A first son today is not only compared to his siblings but also to Davido, Wizkid, and every other young millionaire who allegedly made it without a “9 to 5.” What do you tell a first son who is pressured to lead, yet sees the reckless second son winning on the gram with fake lifestyle and 10k followers?
Parenting in this setting requires a deliberate mix of honesty and humility. Nigerian homes are still largely patriarchal, yet the winds are shifting. Many first sons now cry in silence, question their purpose, and quietly resent the crown of expectations placed on them at birth.
The Family Throne: A Seat Full of Politics
The family home is a theatre of politics. The father is President, the mother is both Vice President and opposition, and the first son is the Senate President—until he dares to challenge power, then he’s called “too proud.” The siblings? House of Representatives—always debating but never deciding.
In many homes, the first son inherits not just assets but grudges. The quarrel between uncles becomes his cross. The unfulfilled dreams of a father become his benchmark. A first son wants to be free, but tradition says, “You are the man of the house.” Even if he’s just 18 and still battling pimples and peer pressure.
There’s also the politics of marriage. A first son’s choice of spouse is never really his. The home must approve. The woman must “fit in.” If she’s assertive, she’s “too bold.” If she’s quiet, “she’s hiding something.” The family wants a bride who can be a wife, a cook, a prayer warrior, and somehow—still not outshine mummy.
Triumph Amid the Turmoil
Yet, many first sons rise. They carry the weight with grace. They lead without applause. They become fathers without repeating their own father’s mistakes. And in those moments, the family throne becomes not just a burden but a beacon.
Let this sermon speak to Nigerian parents: raise your sons to be men, not martyrs. Celebrate effort, not just results. Let them cry. Let them question. Let them be human.
And to the first sons reading this—your worth is not in your perfection. It’s in your persistence. You’re not just the heir; you are also allowed to err.
Till Sunday,
Let the home be governed, not politicized. Let the first son be loved, not used. And let parenting be a partnership, not a performance.
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