As soon as we pulled into the parking lot of our village family house, my mom hurriedly stepped out of the car and made her way to the one place that had been on her mind all year – Odibeze’s Grave.
My grandma, Odibeze (pronounced as spelled), was a force to be reckoned with. Very rarely did one come across women endowed with the strength and resilience that my grandmother possessed.
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All her grit and wild femininity definitely rubbed off on my mother as well, because she, my mom, is a pillar of strength and diligence.
As she arrived at the grave, her demeanor changed. She cleared the leaves that had fallen upon it and stood, almost in reverence for my grandma’s presence. After a while, she proceeded into the house to greet everyone.
This gesture took me down memory lane. It coerced me to reminisce on the good old times when Odibeze was alive and thriving. I might not have a solid memory of her, but from all the stories I’ve been told, we might as well have been best buddies.
In her sixty-three years of life, Odibeze birthed and raised eleven healthy children; five girls and six boys. It is safe to say she ran a matriarchal household despite having a husband.
She was the engine on which the Amuta family operated. She was nicknamed “Mama Pinging" because if anything needed to get done, she made it possible.
Raising eleven kids was no joke, especially in the late nineties. Her husband was a master at carpentry, but try as he might, he couldn’t wrangle in enough income to support his enormous family.
This prompted her to abandon her stressful yet necessary housewife duties and plunge into the labor market to hustle alongside her husband in order to provide for her kids. This meant that the older kids were tasked with raising the younger ones as soon as they were able to.
Some days were bearable, and other days were pure torture, but in the end, they both succeeded in bringing up their kids into decent and responsible members of society.
Fast forward to years after I was born, and her kids put resources together to build them a gigantic three-storey house, featuring over nine rooms, three kitchens, two living rooms and dining rooms, a nice balcony, three bathrooms for each floor, and a massive backyard.
As the years flew by, the house became a safe haven for the family to reunite every holiday. And you best believe Odibeze had prepared the best foods and treats for her grandchildren. She was the reason that every one of her kids would pack up their family and risk taking the 8 hour drive back home as soon as the Christmas bells rang.
I can assure you, the house never ran out of the bare necessities, especially food. God forbid that food was ever finished when she was around. As a youngling, all I had to do was squeeze my face in hunger, and she would immediately see to it that my belly remained filled😄.
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The holidays were the best times of the year, and the atmosphere everlastingly exuded pure joy and laughter. The cousins would run around playing with the animals, while the women all sat near the kitchen and prepared ingredients for the next meal.
It was never a dull moment with Mama (as I called her) around.
When she passed on, it had a ripple effect of grief on the entire household. No one dared to imagine a world with her in it.
How would the house be? Some of my uncles had not gotten married yet; who would they bring their wives to? The food, the joy, the love?
Months later, the whole family gathered to honor her with a befitting burial. That was six years ago and till this day, her absence is felt heavily…
May her soul rest in peace. 🙏🙏
Images used are property of yours truly
Thanks For Reading🤗
