Biodun* (29) has been stealing from his father for years, and he doesn’t see any reason to stop. To him, it isn’t theft so much as balance.
He breaks down why it started, how it’s continued into adulthood, and why he believes he’s simply taking what was always his.
This is Biodun’s explanation as told to Betty:
The first time I stole from my father, I was 15 years old. He’d told me to wash one of his suits as punishment for something I’d done. While emptying the pockets,, I found six crisp ₦500.
I hesitated for a second. My strict Christian mum had spent years beating discipline and good behaviour into me. But the moment I remembered who I was stealing from, all that home training disappeared.
I spent the money over the next few weeks at the game centre on my way home from school. I didn’t turn into a tuber of yam like my mother always threatened whenever I embraced a life of sin. More importantly, I didn’t feel guilty. It just felt like I was taking my share of my father’s ‘national cake’.
Let me explain.
To many people, my father is probably the most generous man alive. At church, his nickname is Animashaun, meaning “he who isn’t selfish.” If he’s not paying someone’s school fees, he’s donating food to charity or giving hefty tips for the smallest service.
People celebrate him so much for his generosity that you’d never guess getting money out of him at home was like trying to get milk from a stone.
Our family’s house was massive, but we still went days without food. Whenever my parents fought, my dad punished everyone by withholding his generosity. That included food, allowances, school fees, and grocery money. He used whatever he controlled to punish or embarrass whoever had upset him. Most times, that person was my mum. She spent years trying to stay on his good side because she knew we’d all suffer if she didn’t.
It’s hard to explain to outsiders because they can’t imagine someone as generous as my dad having a mean streak. But he does.
I can’t even begin to recount all the ways he weaponised his position as the provider against us. On paper, we looked well off, but in reality, we didn’t have much because he made sure of that.
Watching him grill us over every kobo while he gave freely to outsiders made me resent him. That resentment built up in me for years until I found the perfect outlet.
Once I realised he hadn’t noticed the ₦3k I’d taken from his pocket, I started helping myself to any loose change he left around the house. Eventually, I upgraded. I’d buy my monthly data plan from his phone whenever he was distracted or asleep, then delete the alert before he saw it.
I considered stopping when I got into university. Then I watched him pay private university fees for other people’s children while I struggled through a federal uni on a tiny allowance. Any thoughts of stopping disappeared completely.
Throughout university, I made him pay for an uncountable number of imaginary handouts, textbooks and special fees.
After graduation, I didn’t stop. If anything, I got better at it. For instance, in 2021, I pulled off the biggest stunt on him.
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I convinced him to invest in crypto trading and let me manage everything, then I pocketed the money. A few months later, I told him a market crash had wiped everything out. He chewed me out for “losing his money”, but that didn’t faze me at all.
Honestly, I don’t even need the money; I just do it as my way of hurting him back.
I don’t do it as often these days because of the country’s economic situation, but every time I call home and hear about another philanthropic act, I start thinking about how to lighten his pockets again.
Besides, I don’t trust him to leave us anything when he’s gone. He’ll probably give it all away, so people can keep calling him the most generous man alive.
I’m just enjoying what I can while he’s still here.
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