The year I graduated from secondary school was the year we were able to afford a place of our own, it was the year I talked about in “teen dating”. It was the year I revealed my dad’s actions to my mum. It was the year, as I think back now must have stabbed her heart.
In this year, she had all the family responsibility on her shoulders and I must say she did a good job of it. Two kids In school, a cousin living with us, oh we got two more dogs(mongrels that we call bingo around here, but l loved the female one, it was a watered down mix breed German Shepherd).
Two years later, I was in the university when the news of dad’s demise got to me. He was healthy when I left to resume school for the session. As I was told, he travelled to the capital city and stayed with friends. While there, he slumped one day and was declared dead on arrival at the hospital. Food poisoning was suspected, and dad was an expert in eating out from small restaurants (bukas or Iya Basiras). That’s how my mother became a widow. She was in her early 40s.
I remember how the news was broken to her, they were like; dad is sick and in the hospital, you are needed to come to the home base of grandma, his mother. But he was supposed to be in a different town. Well, I suspect she had her doubts. So the news was only broken to her on getting home around loved ones. Oh boy did she cry! But she picked up the pieces and we had a funeral of some sort considering he was a man in his prime whose mother was still alive.
She returned to work, shaved her hair in reverence of her husband, wore one outfit for a whole month to mourn, after which she shook off her sack clothes and started living.
I am sorry there has to be a part 3! Didn’t realize I had so much to say about my mother. Catch you tomorrow. (Considering writing twice a day)
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