There are phrases that always begin the same way: “You are the child of…” No matter how much we grow, work, or have children of our own, the sentence remains open, and someone always takes it upon themselves to complete it.
On Saturday, at the Andafiavaratra Palace, a son took the microphone to speak about his parents, two respected and feared professors. Direct and critical, much like one of them, he began by thanking his mother: thank you for not being there all the time, because it allowed him to get into some mischief. The room laughed.
When your parents are professors of such caliber, a little absence feels like a gift from heaven. He continued in the same tone. At nearly 50, his mother still asks him when he will finish his thesis. His reply, laughing: “Mom, I won’t be doing the thesis.”
But behind the joke, there was a real issue. Being the child of these two, he explained, means remaining so for your entire life. At a certain age, people still remind you of your parents and what they achieved. He asked a question that children of great personalities rarely voice aloud: what burden do they carry in silence, even when everyone thinks they are privileged?
This is my interpretation, not his, and I judge no one. If this mother was not always there, it is because she was a professor and researcher, often traveling the world. Such a career is not built without sacrifices: time, presence, rest. It does not make one a bad mother; it is paying the price for what one builds, and that price is shared by the family. Children inherit both: the brilliance of their parents and the cost it incurred.
In our culture, this burden has a proverb: “Ny adala no toa an-drainy” (Only a fool is exactly like his father). In other words, one must do better than one’s parents. But how do you do better when the bar is set so high? When parents are already at the summit, one wonders what is left to climb. One might ask if it is necessary to succeed even more than them, or if being proud of their accomplishments is enough. It remains to be understood whether pride and ambition oppose or complement each other. And when these parents started from nothing, must one thank them for a lifetime, even when their success weighs too heavily?
These questions concern all the “children of”: presidents, ministers, magistrates, professors, artists, creators, inventors, and activists. They are introduced first by their parents, then by themselves. A failure is counted double for them, and a success is never entirely their own, because with such parents, it was expected.
This son’s testimony made me reflect. I ask myself these same questions as a mother. I have three children who may read this text one day. I realize that unconsciously, I have set the bar very high, for them as for me. I ask for their forgiveness. The autism of two of them taught me to grow differently: not by lowering the bar, but by seeing it differently. I thank them for being who they are, and I know better than ever that they can be whatever they want. I am a lamp that shines in its own way, and each of them has their own light.
There may be no right answer. But we can make a simple gesture toward these children: ask them what they want to do, not just what they owe their parents. An inheritance is received; it should not be imposed.
Perhaps the greatest compliment for exceptional parents is a child who dares to be something other than a copy, and who loves them anyway. On Saturday, the room laughed, and that was already a way to lighten the weight.
Captured & Published at: 2026-10-31 05:39:24 (Madagascar Local Time EAT)
Original Source: https://www.lexpress.mg/2026/10/lenfant-de.html