Genesis Cinema at GRA did that to children.

Cold air. Clean floors. Popcorn smells.

Port Harcourt families dressed carefully, gathering in small groups, performing togetherness.

It was that season when outings happened.

Everyone dressed up.

Everyone arrived in the same car.

Everyone left the same way.

That was the family activity.

Somewhere between the parking lot and the ticket stand, something usually changed.

The crowd.

The noise.

The weight of expectation.

The child would go quiet.

Not angry.

Not misbehaving.

Just suddenly distant.

That silence never passed unnoticed.

A quiet child in public was a problem.

Unhappiness was not allowed to exist on its own.

It meant something had gone wrong.

Why do you always do this.

We should not have come out with you.

You must enjoy being sad.

The mother’s voice explained the feeling before the child understood it.

The father was present, but barely.

A smile now and then.

Already fading from memory.

In places like GRA, children are expected to look grateful.

Happy.

Well raised.

A sad child disrupts the image.

So the feeling became the issue.

Not the confusion.

Not the episode.

Standing in front of a cinema meant for enjoyment, the child learned something early.

Joy was a duty.

Silence was suspicion.

And sadness, even quiet sadness, had consequences.

Happiness was not optional.

It was owed.

And if it could not be produced,

the fault belonged to the child.