As I passed by an African (ethnic) shop yesterday evening, my olfactory bulb perceived an aroma – a special one, so sweet and unique but yet familiar. It felt familiar because I was sure my tongue has tasted the source of that multiple times…several years ago.

I could feel my organs leap in joy as they recalled how it used to be in those days. Hmmmm…Yes, it was the perfume of a special soup my MOTHER often made. 

The next thing? My lacrimal glands were let loose and tears trickled down my young cheeks… Mom I miss you!

I miss you waking me up in the morning and I’d say ”Mommy good morning”.

I miss you preparing everything before I was up. I just had to take my petit towel and move towards the bathroom.

I miss you preparing the meals, even after a stressful day. We always praised you for that quality.

I miss seeing our kitchen transformed once you were in there.

I miss you washing me up till I learnt how to do that on my own. My elder sisters dared not touch me.

I miss you telling me how successful I’d become if I eschewed evil and clung unto right living.

I miss your touch and warmth embrace.

I miss you rubbing my head and pushing me to go on and conquer. I’ve been away and mostly alone for so long but the feeling of you nibbling my ears are ever with me.

I miss you rubbing powder on my smooth face and taking me to the barber’s shop. Now I look horrible with my grown hairs and powderless face.

I miss your wise pieces of advice.

I miss your perfume; it’s simply unique.

I miss you staying up late at night and intermittently coming around to adjust my blanket. And often you would sleep by us to make sure we were fine.

I miss you going hungry a number of times because you wanted us to eat.

Even when I had chicken pox, you defied it and was always by me – I won’t forget this Nnem.

I miss going to the farm with you, carrying some firewood as we walked home under the tall trees of Ukushi. 

I miss roasting yams at intervals as we tilled the ground under the hot sun.

I miss being carried on the motorbike while roping my arms around your waist.

I miss you asking me to go get some akara for breakfast.

I miss your surprise gifts.

I miss you washing my clothes, especially my ”opanteclous.”

I miss your scoldings and your spanking. They were painful but as I think of them now, they were necessary.

I miss that rice, that soup, those vegetables, but especially that Yam. Yes, I miss your special touch on all those dishes.

I miss you asking me to sweep the compound in the morning; oh how I loved to design our frontage with those brooms.

I miss seeing you typing letters for daddy and copying almost all his notes, including drawing his scheme of work.

Most times I smile not because I have all my needs met but because I hear a voice calling me Chibii.

And whenever I heard Chibii, it showed that Mom was around and something special was there for me.

Till date, I still hear Chibii as I study, go to the hospital, walk on the streets, eat, sleep etc.

I’ve been up all night thinking about you. Needless to write all my thoughts here because I know that wherever you are and whatever you are doing now, you’re missing me too. And, of course, longing to see your little Chibii.  ❤

Nnem Oma, ahurum gi n’anya – Dearest Mom, I love you. ❤

Written on March 8, 2014.