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Dear Lamek
I always knew that it was commonplace for children to see their parents off. But I did not know that I, alongside your other children, would be bidding you farewell so soon. We wanted you around much longer but God decided that it was time you took a rest. It is painful seeing you off. Now, I know why saying goodbye is hardest for those who love their parents. Should we question God on why he took you away from us when we wanted you more? Well, you taught us, through words and actions, to accept whatever God brings our way. You taught us submission to the ultimate will of God. You taught us never to ask ‘Why me?’ because you showed, through your life, that God’s decision is always the best. So, we resign to fate, knowing that you were a blessed mother.
Mum, you saw us through the darkest part of the nights. When dad showed the policemen in him, you came with a soothing balm. When he marched us out very early in the morning to the farms, brushing us through bush paths where dew wet our clothes and made us cold before we began to till the ground and plant yam, cassava, maize, cowpea, etc., you came around with your flask of hot water and made us tea to keep us warm and active. You liked the idea of our exposure to farming, but you made it fun for us. So doing, you eased the pain of farming on us. And we loved it. We always wanted to go to the farm with you.
I remember how you would send us to go harvest cassava from the farthest of farms. Okechukwu and I would harvest those huge tubers of cassava and move them from Ugwualla to Owerri, where you led us through the rigours of converting tubers of cassava to garri. You taught us how to produce food and we never lacked. Did we lack any? Not at all. From your farms at Okposi, Ayaragu, Ishiagu and back to Umuafai, you took us through practical tutorials in agriculture and inspired my interest in Agric Science in secondary school. I made an ‘A’ in Agric Science at WAEC. It wasn’t because I was hardworking in class, but because I had already known, in practice, what my Agric teacher was teaching in theory. Thanks. I won’t forget.
Mum, you took us through another level of tutorials in trading. We woke many times in the week not seeing you to say “Mummy good morning” because you left very early to catch up with early morning trade with people who brought in foodstuff from village markets. That was your hustle for our sake. You exposed us to Ekeonunwa Market in Owerri. Though students, you took us, Chinedu, Okechukwu and I, to the market every weekend. You taught us how to buy and sell. We sold all sorts of grains –beans, rice, corn, etc. Through this, we got to learn and know the different types of beans and rice in the market. We also bought and sold whatever could give us immediate returns and empowered us with little money for transport to school the next week. We bought and sold tinned tomatoes, Maggi, Knorr, biscuits, chinchin and also palm oil. Though I was not as dexterous in trading like Okechukwu, you still pushed me to learn and manage your palm oil trade when ill health slowed you down. I recall, with tears, how we fell out over accounting matters in your palm oil trade. I was poor in accounting. My calculations always never added up. You did not go beyond Standard 6, but your book-keeping skills were perfect.
Here in Dikenafai, your schoolmates would regale us with your exploits in class those days. They would tell me how good you were in class and even outshone your male classmates. Some have even told me how you would beat them up if they messed with you. They told me that you were skilled in netball and played it very well, you were very good in handcraft and could read very well. These are memories that your schoolmates now share. Though you did have the opportunity of higher education, you lived to ensure that your children enjoyed it.
Lamek, your insights about life and living were much sought after. You groomed your children in the best tradition of Christianity. You loved us and we loved you in return –reason we are all tears that you left. You were our prayer warrior. With you, we needed no ‘prayer experts’ to bind and cast anything. You knew almost every verse of the Bible by heart and you would reference them when admonishing us. You warned us against belonging to gangs and groups that had negative influence on life. I thank God that we are still on track. You wanted to see all of us excel and you constantly prayed for that to happen. The rest, you left to God. Today, we are testimonials that God answered your prayers.
But Lamek, you know it wasn’t all rosy with you. You did not spare the rod for us. You used it effectively to knock us into shape. You would still draw us close after using the rod. If you needed to tongue-lash anyone of us, you did without apologies. After all, no matter how tall a man grows, he is still a kid before his mother. We accepted your admonitions and lived with them. We are grateful you lived for us and admonished us. You would tear up your pricey wrapper and go on your Singer sewing machine to make new dresses for us rather than see us walk around unclothed. You were a mother truly stated. Chai, we miss!
Tomorrow, we shall all gather to commit your remains to earth, from where we all came and to which we must all return at the nick of time. We shall miss you. With your passage, a vital part of us is gone.
However, we are comforted that you slept peacefully in God. We are encouraged that your bore your ill-health, which left you bedridden for over 20 years with equanimity of faith. You left us huge lessons in resignation to the will of God.
Mummy, all the pains are gone. Yes, they are no more. You enter God’s abode without them. As you taught us, gain or loss, everything shall be divested on earth while we return to God empty-handed as we came.
Mummy, Ichie is pained. Nne Abuchi’s eyes are red. Okpoko, your father, is missing his daughter. Onuoghe is not calm. Aroaku, Duru Uka and Nkenta, your personal nurse, are in pains. I am pained too, but more because there will be no one to call me Nkeukwu like you used to.
Rest peacefully with God, Lamek.
Nkeukwu
