At 8pm, I will receive a call from my sister Mayen-Joe, mummy has collapsed.
I will say ok…. Where are u taking her, and she will say Ikeja General Hospital, and I will say, I will meet you there
I will leisurely drive to the hospital, knowing the time for her ascension has come, and I will get there to see my sister cuddling her head at the back of her husband’s car, and with her gone to sleep
I will not cry even as my sister is crying and begging her to stay and not go
I will walk towards my in-law Etim and my brother Bernard and watch them make arrangements for her stay in the morgue, and after it all, I will drive back home to celebrate the end of an era
Today marks five years since she left.
It has also been about 18 years since my father left, officially, making me an orphan
Like most people, we all connect more with our mother and I will not set out to explain why in this article
It was my sister who was talking about her memorial when someone added, Daddy Nko
We had forgotten his date, and it took Bernard to fish out invites to his funeral, which then made us realise it was in December, that passed, so we quickly agreed to add him to the memorial party
Tomorrow, we will assemble at the Church he founded – Present Truth Ministry, where my brother Ernest is the GO, Etim is Senior Pastor, Mayen Mummy GO and I, the Chairman of the BOT, to celebrate their tiny legacy
My mother, who is the principal celebrant, was a heroine of the struggle
A terrible woman who sent fear and love in equal measures.
You would hate her and love her at the same time
She had the rare capacity to give you the worst fight of ur life, immediately forget that she just called you a bastard and join you to fight a police case and end up sharing a delicious warm plate of Afang with you, leaving you confused.
She loved me, especially since I was her favourite.
Please, any of my siblings who doubt that I was her favourite, should write their own essay. This is my essay and as such. Im the favourite
She loved me o and used to call me Ini and till her passing offered to give me enema each time I complained of a slight fever.
She was jealous of any woman who came close to me and Foluke suffered the full brunt as she would shout – Faluke (she never could pronounce her name right till she died) and then shake her head very violently as she muttered in Ibibio, Nyeme.
She didn’t like the fact that she came in between us that early and fought very fiercely against it.
I used to tell her everything, and she loved the fact that I did that and would laugh, cry, fight with me and be my last man standing
When I was kicked out of Command, she went to fight. When the police arrested me, she jumped behind the counter with me
She jumped into every fight without wanting to know if I was at fault or not
This is why she is now a saint in heaven, and my father is an altar boy in heaven cos he used to ask the very annoying question – Joe, what did you do
Who cares what I did? The effing Yoruba boy just slapped me. We need to beat him up, and that is where my mother made her name as she would get soldiers to teach him a lesson, while my father was there asking Joe what did you do?
This is why he is buried in his room, and she is buried in a massive mausoleum in her village, which is now a tourist site where villagers take their loved ones to go take pictures on Valentine’s Day
My mother will die again today at 8pm, and Mayen will call me again and say – Joe mummy don faint, and I will once again say – Mayen, I dey come
Keep sleeping well, Ekanmi. Abasi Adiong fi
Thank you
Duke of Shomolu
Last modified: January 4, 2026
