Congratulations, Uwem for the clear and engaging way in which you narrate your emotional story!

I fully agree with Nona Nicklin's comment; the local culture at the time led your father to believe that this was the best way to raise children, just as your grandfather must have "taught" your father.

Life and military upbringing exacerbated his reactions and method of correction disciplines applied to children. Thankfully, old age made him review the scenes he played and, with remorse, try to apologize to you and brothers, with kindness and true love in his last years.

My father only hit me once in his life; here is an excerpt from my draft "Pieces of my life"

"Behold, two emergencies came together: my grandparents, in a big house and only Aunt Elza, who was increasingly aggressive, my parents with perennial financial difficulties, and we now moved to the two-story house at the farthest end of the street above the four twins, on Rua Abílio Soares. with my paternal grandparents – again.

I loved my first school and even more my little teacher; didn't want to leave.

I had to leave and was enrolled at the Externato Nossa Senhora Aparecida two blocks away, on Rua Affonso de Freitas.

The owners and directors were Da. Rizoleta and Da. Yaiá, Mutt & Jeff: Rizoleta short and fat, Yaiá tall and beanpole.

I met them when I went with my mother to register.

Wow, what ugly people! I miss the previous teacher even more...

One of them took us on a tour of the little school, showed us the room where I was going to stay.

The next day my mother dragged me to my first class; I got stuck at the door, started crying, screaming. Dona Rizoleta finally came to talk to me, I screamed even more; my mother had to come home with me.

Next day, same thing.

My father said: let me take him tomorrow. He got time off or told the office he'd be late for work.

When I started to haggle, he pulled me in, I tried to resist; he grabbed me by the arm and spanked me on the butt, spanking from a father, not a mother, dragging me, in front of all the students and teachers at the front of their lines, until the end of mine.

My designated teacher put me at the front of the line, took my hand, and sobbing, off I went.

Blessed beating!

I was a great student there, solid foundation to be accepted at Escola da Praça (Praça da República), the best preparatory school for the University, then in Brazil and Latin America".

Once again, congratulations and thanks for publish it.

And many thanks for following me! It is an honour to me.