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Friday, November 20, 2009

Better Tomorrow: Chapter 4: Mother & Child


Chapter 4

y Visionary


Mother

Sleepily, she moved her hand around the object, caressing it. She wondered whether she was feeling my hand or leg wrapped in my rough night-wear. If so, she felt it was too soft and amoebic in shape. Why was she not able to shift me from my position on the floor so easily?. Her heart beat faster as those thoughts ran through her mind and she felt uneasy. She then got up, adjusted the lever of the lantern up and light flooded the whole room as everything became visible. She brought the lantern closer to view the strange part of my body she had been toying with. What she then saw almost gave her a heart attack and made her drop the lantern in alarm! It was a big black cobra! 

Inspite of what I called the 'nasty' experiences so far narrated, life has not been totally unkind to me. I found love in my mother, father, stepmothers, brothers and sisters, extended relatives, and, indeed, wherever I found myself I was loved! Take my mother's corner for an example.

Her life radiated boundless love. She was kind and generous to a fault. To everybody, she gave all she had. She loved children to a fault. She could not stand the sight of hungry children around her. She would rather go hungry herself than see children starve for food. Her kindness extended to adults alike. She cared for all her siblings (and their children) the same way she cared for her own biological children. But I was special, being the last child and the most obedient of all her children. I was never flogged by her once in a while to correct me when I am drifting away from set norms but I was done with deep affection..

I Won her for Christ!

My mother was an animist - an idol worshiper like the rest of her generation. But she got born-again as a result of the sickness that afflicted me when I was under three years old. As the story went, the sickness had twisted my neck and turned my hair totally white like an old person's. The only life in me for a long time was that I breathed with much difficulty in a virtual state of coma. My mother said she had given up hope that I would ever survive because I no longer ate, but she had vowed not to bury me until she was certain I was completely stone-dead!

So one day she took me to a local Church in the village where they prayed for me. Back home, my mother said, surprisingly, I started singing a garbled version of one of the songs they sang in the Church on that day:

“A-a-a-kaa koko o” (Glorious God)

A-a-a-kaa koko o” (Glorious God)

Although she could not make any meaning out of my singing, she let me be, and things went on that way for some time. She was in her own world, and I in mine. However, she took solace in the fact that the dying child had suddenly started singing, albeit incomprehensibly, and that was a sure sign that something good was beginning to happen in my life. Thereon, her hope soared when the child who had long refused feeding began to accept food. I was no longer sleepless but slept deeply and soundly. The child whose neck once lolled, could then raise it up and control its movement gradually. The child who could not walk before, began tentatively to do so. That was how I came back from the dead to the living!

That was the miracle that won my mother over from being a devout idol worshipper to a lover of Jesus Christ.

To crown it all, one day my song became clear to her. I sang it in full and it made meaning to her. This is the song:

Orimolade, Oga Ogo, (2ce)


Ohun Rere Wonu Iyin


Ema Bami Yo o!

Glorious God (2ce)


Good tidings have arrived in Iyin


Come and rejoice with me!

Intuitively, once she decoded the song she promptly joined me in it and the song became our favourite hymn till I attained the age of understanding myself.

When my mother became a Christian, she did so with passion without compromise. She prayed unceasingly and also prayed specifically for me every now and then. She tried, always to keep all the commandments of the Lord to the best of her ability, the ten of which she crammed as she did the Lord's Prayer too, as also Psalms 24, 91 and 100.

She was early to the morning service before anybody. She was spiritually developed. She strove hard to ensure that all her children thenceforth understood the ways of the Lord. Regular fasting of various duration - 3 days, 7 days, 40 days, constant prayers and meditation, vigils in Church as well as camps located in the countryside, total surrender to the Lord in times of adversity - were her ways of life.

This was the foundation of my spiritual awareness too. We were very close to one another. She told me stories surrounding my birth and my nursery days. (However she concealed the aspect of my biological origin!) She confirmed that she had exceptional difficulties during the latter period. She dispensed with taking any form of drugs, local or orthodox. She believed in the potency of sanctified water for healing all forms of illnesses. This was during the time of Apostle Babalola, the Founder of Christ Apostolic Church, which remained her church for life. Indeed, she left an oral will that she should be buried at the CAC burial ground and there she has rest today!

I had a listening ear and this benefited me a lot. She told me so many things that happened which were enough to cut short my life-span. However, though she attributed her misfortunes to the work of her “enemies”, I believed most of her experiences were due to inadequate medical care, unhealthy living environment, superstition and a general lack of the means of livelihood.

She told me some mind-boggling stories but time will only allow me to relate only one. One fateful day, about 5 a.m., we were fast asleep together. A little space separated us. At a stage, she wanted to draw me closer to her. As she stretched her hand to do so, she felt a soft, warm but scraggy object instead.

Sleepily, she moved her hand around the object, caressing it. She wondered whether she was feeling my hand or leg wrapped in my rough night-wear. If so, she felt it was too soft and amoebic in shape. Why was she not able to shift me from my position on the floor so easily?. Her heart beat faster as those thoughts ran through her mind and she felt uneasy. She then got up, adjusted the lever of the lantern up and light flooded the whole room as everything became visible. She brought the lantern closer to view the strange part of my body she had been toying with. What she then saw almost gave her a heart attack and made her drop the lantern in alarm! It was a big black cobra! Swiftly, she found courage to lift me up, ran for the door, through which she crashed towards where Pa Ilugbusi was, shouting, “in mo gba mi oooh… Ori I mi oooh; eeeeh.. ejo, ejo, ejo ni oooh” meaning “help, help, it's a snake!”. Her SOS screams woke Pa Ilugbusi up. He quickly reached for his cutlass. He was never known to be afraid of snakes. The ensuing commotion did not move the snake. It simply appeared to be saying it was not there for any battle.

Pa Ilugbusi did not take its complacency for granted. But as he raised his cutlass the snake suddenly became challenged and its peaceful posture turned to engagement. A battle of sorts began. As he brought down his sharp cutlass aiming for the snake's head, it dodged swiftly. He missed, it recoiled. As Pa Ilugbusi swung his cutlass right and left, so the snake moved in the opposite direction to avoid being struck. The snake tried to strike him in the chest or spit its poisonous venom into his eyes. Neither of them - man or beast - succeeded in their intentions.

By this time a crowd had already gathered in the corridor. Women and children were wailing. Mother and I, with my step-father's brother, Pa Omotoyinbo, were at the scene of the battle for life. The continuous left-right-left swings of my step-father's cutlass now fully provoked the cobra which had become desperate while fending off the attack. Finally Pa Ilugbusi overcame it when he deftly cut off the cobra's head, leaving its voluminous trunk twitching and trashing in its own pool of blood on the floor!

Till her death, mother strongly believed that the cobra was sent by her enemies to harm me. But my own view now is that, with the proximity of our building to the bush, the reptile just crawled into the house for warmth! If it were actually tele-guided to harm me, why did it take such a long time doing so, even as my mother's hand caressed it?

Mother and I Traded Visions

Even though I was very young, but through what I can call a divine touch, I understood my mother's visions for me. Her greatest ambitions for me were to serve God and see me succeed in life through a good education. She nursed the visions of living long enough to nurse my own children, ride in my car and live in a house built by me. Mother meant them seriously and she did all within her capacity to actualize them. She provided all she could to see me through school.

In turn, my own visions for her were very clear to me too. I vowed to cater for her abundantly till death; I never wanted her to suffer. Young as I was, I started early fulfilling these visions in my own little ways. For instance, between 1970 and 1971, when life apparently became very rough for her, I gladly supplemented her wherewithal. I would, at dawn, hasten to the nearby bush to gather some firewoods for her cooking and sometimes cut fresh poles for making tents, which I sold to the woman ( called Eye Seemi) who used to sell “Amala” to school childen every morning.

Eye Seemi, the food seller, never failed me. Sometimes she would pay me the three pence in cash, or she would give me three pence worth of amala instead. Whenever I killed a mouse, I would sell it and give the proceeds to mother. The irony of it all was that the money would come back to me by way of meeting my needs!

Our Visions Fulfilled

Mother and I shared our visions matter-of-factly, as if we were sharing jokes. And God willing, we lived to fulfill the dreams we had for ourselves before she departed this world at the ripe old age of about 92 years. I shall give more details as my narration unfolds.

Awo's Free Education complemented our visions

One way God provided for me early in life was the coincidence of the free primary education programme the government of Western Nigeria led by the visionary Nigerian leader, Chief Obafemi Awolowo, launched at the time. Without that laudable programme, in spite of my mother's vision for me educationally, my education at the formative stage would either have been aborted or become impossible.

Mother's unceasing prayers, father's 'remote' affection plus Pa Ilugbusi's pieces of advice-cum-discipline whenever I went off the track and the good people who were friends indeed - Pastors, Tutors, Supervisors and Colleagues at work whom I came in contact with in my later life and my absolute faith in God - have mainly sustained me and inspired my hard work.

As I stated earlier, mother dominated my spiritual life which laid the foundation of my joy from God. I was attentive whenever sermons were preached at church services and tried to understand them through meditation. However, I hardly read the Bible myself then! Mother's influence on me was not limited to all I have said. There are many more areas of life she shaped my life for the better. This may be an appropriate place to review them.

My Mother's Nature In Me

As the English would say, a fruit invariably falls by the parent-tree! Apart from the prophetic caution against unforgiving spirit I received when I was very young, I imbibed the spirit of forgiveness from my mother. Up till now, it is unthinkable for me to keep malice against anybody. If I get hurt, my immediate reaction has always been (and will continue to be) that the perpetrator of such act did not deliberately want to hurt my feelings. When I would reflect on what I might have done in similar circumstance, I would conclude that no neighbour would deliberately hurt me too. Whether my conjecture is wrong or faulty, I forgive and overlook the error.

Another particular nature of my mother which radiates from me and dominates my life and which became a generic driver in my desire to become a Lawyer sometime in my lifetime was her insistence on human rights, not just for oneself but for everybody!

I Hate Cheating, I Detest Oppression

I do not enjoy people being cheated at all. From my youth, I did not enjoy the practice of some of my Uncles who tricked me into looking at one direction while they used the opportunity of my inattention to consume my own portion of food! I detest oppression in whatever guise it rears its ugly head.

I am Independent-Minded

From the symbiotic relationship with my Mum, I have developed an independent disposition. I don't like to be tied to anybody's apron strings!

I Hate A False Standard of Living

Resulting from my independent-mindedness, I have shied away from situations that could inhibit my free choice and direction. So, I've had to reject official privileges like luxury accommodation in a location that tended to give a false notion of one's actual standard of living. I wondered then how I could live in an accommodation where electricity and water supply were steady in a country where everywhere else exists in primitive darkness. What would become my fate if the organisation sacked me? How would I adjust in a new situation: begin to beg? No! - such risk is not in my character.

I Create What I Like Myself

When I see what I like but cannot afford it, I try to create such a thing. For instance, what distinguishes Ikoyi and Victoria Island is the nature of their unique environment - the trees, flowers, the waters, the open spaces and so on. So if I could not live in such places for their cost and sophistication, I could create their ambience in my own chosen homestead, wherever! In my particular case, I designed my house in such a way that I was left with enough space in my one-plot land to accommodate a11 the pleasures of Ikoyi and Victoria Island! In addition, I have assorted species of bananas, pineapples, pawpaw, guava, oranges, coconuts, breadfruit trees, cocoyams and pears in a happy environmental unity with yams and cassava farms within my property.

They enrich my flowers! Everything about them is useful to me - their oxygen, their fruits, their shades, their colours! They invite all sorts of my other natural friends (birds, snails, monitor lizards, even snakes!) to visit me, day and night! With the exception of snakes, I love every of such visitors as they give me the pleasure of consistently observing them!

In the end, what is Ikoyi or such-like places to me? There is no more hankering or envy. By creating or replicating my own pleasurable environment, I have not only avoided the sameness and snobbish life-style of Ikoyi but also set a new standard to be emulated by my own neighbourhood!

Mother and Her Sibblings, Uncles and Nieces

I have come to realise that the love I have for my family members and for people in general originated from the loving attitudes of my late mother. My mother loved her siblings so much that she played effective and active roles in everything concerning them. She was never far away from them, neither were they far away from her. She served every member of her family to the best of her ability. She injected deep love into their lives that they all found it difficult to detach themselves from her too. She extended her love beyond them to their children and their grandchildren, their wives or husbands. Mother was outstandingly affectionate. She gave direction to them in all aspects of life. Till her death, she was concerned for each and every one of them. They, in turn, reciprocated her good gesture. She was never lonely throughout her lifetime. So on my maternal side, I grew up amidst loving people and that love still pervades my life today. It has extended to my own children who, all grew up with my mother's siblings' children some of whom, at one time or the other, lived with us. So in that segment of the family, we are seemingly glued together! This is in agreement with my philosophy of family unity!

Mother and my father, Pa. Gabriel Omogboyega

The relationship between my mother and my father, Pa Omogboyega, was very deep. Inspite of the fact that she did not live under his roof, they were very close. I knew this because I was indeed their linkage virtually all the time.

The most potent tool that my mother and father adopted that cemented their relationship was: effective communication. (This, perhaps, was where I developed and honed my own attitude of effective and unending interpersonal relationship, which I apply in bonding with my own wife). I have told my wife many times over that there is nothing like talking too much in our marriage. We must talk, talk and talk, day and night!

My mother and father used to discuss a lot. As I was always present, I had the priviledge of listening attentively to their conversations. They addressed issues together and were never tired of dialogue. My mother demonstrably lived in two homes; the fact that she retired to Pa Ilugbusi's abode in the evenings to sleep was the only difference that located her legal residence!

However, as they say, there is never a perfect situation in this world! The fact is my mother begrudged my father because she felt he should have provided for her much more than he was ever able to do. She also felt that he should have been more involved financially in my upbringing. She never doubted his genuine love or affection for her and me though, but she wanted it demonstrated materially in certain areas of my life, like my education.

However, in deference to my father's repeated apologies to her for his shortcomings and my joint appeals that life is more than butter and bread by reason of which she should bury the hatchet, my mother, in Christian rectitude, eventually bore everything and forgave father.

That was the true nature of Tomire, my mother. If she had an issue with somebody and she was in the right, she would insist on her right. But once she forgave you, it was all over! She would never bring up the matter again.

Now matured, I can understand why my father could not do much more than he had done for me. The reason was that he himself wallowed in abject poverty but poverty is not an admissible defence before any woman in the matter of her maintenance! My mother was no exception!


To be continued

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