Mama, I heard about your death at the hands of 'breast cancer' this past Thursday. I have been speechless since then. How can you die now? Why die when your were just starting to reap the fruit of your labour? I am so saddened, mama; the tears have refused to run dry; the children amber around with vacant stares.
Though you were not my biological mom, you are still my mother, mama. I will never forget those nights you used to call me out under the starry sky and school me in the intrigues of the world. ..."Its a cruel world out there," you would say, "but the world will stand up and applaud you if you conquer the difficulties and the adversities."
Amadi, your first son, took these advice and conquered but was untimely cut short by the ghostly horseman (death). While you wailed in anguish, we all sat, somber faced, around you and offered you our support and pledges of 'living up to billing.'
Michael left these shores to forage amidst the Oriental Tigers, he was successful; Nyeche sojourned to distant climes and was victorious; Morris plunged into the pools of the citadel, and from all accounts he is swimming ably. I, your son from another womb, danced the macabre dance of the bard and etched my name in hieroglyphies of inky parchments. Mama, we are not doing badly, we learnt well, but you have departed, not staying behind to watch our continuous rise.
In this gloomy episode, my heart goes out to my brothers from another mother: Michael (my name sake), Nyeche (my antagonist), Mr. Morris (my partner in mischief), and the only girl and last born Momo (spoiler and chronic kill-joy). Now that you are no more, the males and their mates are at the mercy of the Velociraptor called Momo. Chei, woe unto men!
Mama, with tears cascading down my orbs, I say 'Adieu'.
By Okah Ewah Edede.May 7,2012
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