A VALEDICTION TO CHILDHOOD - CITI@10 POEM

At the point of your conception, we weren’t quite sure how we’d go about raising you...

We weren’t even certain if we’d be able to provide for you, to give you the kind of life that every beautiful, precious child of the Citi deserves…

And we had no idea if you’d live beyond your first year; because that’s what they said:

They said that you might be stillborn and that at best you’d be a weak baby, gasping for air in a cold incubator that would be your life support,
until we would be able to come to a realisation that you were never meant to live.

Doctors said it. Police officers barked it. Bankers put their stamp on it and the media family broadcasted it in loud whispers.

They said that you’d be born prematurely, regardless of whether you had been born after 9 months, 10 months, 11, 12, 13… Even if you had been born after a 10-year pregnancy.

They said that your infancy would be plagued with disease and asthmatic wheezing.

They said that as a toddler, you’d continue to crawl on your belly, until the carpet burns on your stomach morphed into calcium-starved sores that bled incessantly; you would NEVER walk, they proclaimed.

They said that your childhood would be a miserable one, riddled with stunted growth, disgrace, failure; and an ultimate death.

They said that you could never live to be 3 months old, let alone 10 years.

Oh, we heard it all, but we loved you, our beautiful, precious child of the Citi…

But at infancy, you cried and suckled for breast milk and you burped and you grew.

And as a toddler your limbs were firm and you took sure-footed steps.

Then, as a child, thousands admired you, for you exhibited a wisdom that was beyond your years.

People loved you, because you never allowed challenges to escalate into failures; you had the Midas touch of turning everything into a successful nugget of glistening gold…

And today, beautiful, precious, blessed child of the Citi; today you are 10 full years old.

And we bid your childhood behind in a humble valediction.

We thank God for you, we bless the day you were born, we pay homage to the years that have been spent moulding you, loving you, guiding you, adorning you.

We scream in melodious gratitude to the hands and souls that have dedicated their lives to nurturing you…

Today, we celebrate you, our beautiful, precious, blessed, inexplicably amazing child that is Citi:

Because at 10, you exhibit the qualities of many mature adults; you are no longer a child, but you will always be our baby, our brainchild, our beautiful, precious, blessed, inexplicably amazing and most royal Citi.