IYA TEMI

Mother: magnificent offer to harness, enrich and refrain. A mother can words describe her? Can letters paint her? Can life be without her? 'Iya.' A nursery rhyme says it all; who sat and washed my infant head, when sleeping on my cradle bed and tears of sweet affection shed, my mother.


That song played a certain tune in my mind as I watched her hold her baby. Hmm! Thoughts flowed through my heart and my mind realized that she had a certain look, maturity; a responsible yet loving adoration for the tiny baby she held in her arms. He was so small and today they called him a name; a name that father, mother, grandfather and grandmother put much thought in and suddenly a craft, a word seemed to hold their hopes, love and dreams –Oluwatimilehin, Anjolaoluwa, Abubakar.

I wonder when a mother’s love begins. Is it from the 'yes I am pregnant' or when she brings life into the world? She feeds, lives, sleeps for two. She can’t be selfish, for a life depends on her. She looked at Timi and I could see my mother looking at me. She had a will in her eyes saying “I promise you, I will take care of you, you won’t be hungry, you won’t beg for food, clothing or shelter. Though we live in a third world, your life will be first class. I will do anything or almost anything to make your life better than mine’. 

 A mother fights, natures and grooms her child the best way she can. She know every memory, scar, and event. I laugh when my mum tells me stories that I can’t even remember. Mama Timi held her gift, her promise from God, her arrow to fight against the world, and in our culture ‘her shakara’. She was passionate, for God gave her emptiness to fill, blindness to heal, dependence to make independent, and trust to keep. If she had no vision, purpose or dreams, she had found the greatest purpose. She had been given the gift of life. What is more valuable?

It seems to me that a woman tries her best to bring up a child the best way she can, with the resources she has. She deprives herself so her child can enjoy certain luxuries of life. She gives her all, trying to get it right, perfectly right. She says 'I will do one thing right and that’s you.' Yes ma, you did a great job, but I must also do my own job-to make myself the best I can be. You did perfectly but I am not perfect, you strive and I will strive too. Ema jeun omo.

Iya the flowers blossom, your lines grow, your face wrinkles, your strength reduces, and your smile brightens. Age can be funny, yet I will kiss those wrinkles like I did when I was two, I will eat your meat and give it to you when the knives in your mouth is gone. I will walk you to the park when your legs become three. I will try to give you a measure of life that you have given me.