A DAY WITH MAMA.

A college student spends a day with her mother and sees her in a new light.
By Enagwolo U

I stopped in front of the train station and leaned against the wall to catch my breath. I wasn’t in the mood to hear my mother’s criticism about my disheveled appearance so I pulled out my compact and comb to fix my hair. Most people would understand that squeezing a 50 minute journey into 40 minutes might frazzle one a little but not my mother – as far as she was concerned, a lady should be a lady at all times, even if she’s been pounding yam in the sweltering heat all day long.

I sighed, smoothed my blouse and walked into the station. I felt a little guilty about the mixed feelings going through me. Like a lot of Nigerians in America, I didn’t get to see my mother often and I realized that I should be excited to see her, but instead, was glad that as a college student, I couldn’t house her and as a result, would only be spending the day with her. One day wasn’t much to most people, but for us, it was plenty.

I didn’t have to look around much to find her because short, black women in brightly colored buba and iros and heat-ties was practically a rarity at my preppy college town. I exhaled one last time then quickened my pace.

“Mummy,” I called when I was within earshot of her.

She turned around with a wide beaming smile. “Adesuwa!” She opened her arms and embraced me warmly. She felt me over and said, “You are looking healthy. I can see you are managing with school.”

I shrugged off any double entendres and smiled back at her. “Yes, Mummy.” I picked up her bag. “Ready to go?”

*~*~*~*

“This your room is small, sha,” my mother commented as she stepped into my dorm room. “Which doesn’t mean you shouldn’t try to keep it neat, okay?”

“Yes, Mummy,” I replied, nodding my head like I hadn’t spent the better part of the previous night cleaning up the place. When it came to my mother, nothing was ever clean enough and I wondered if she’d have had a heart attack if she saw what my room normally looked like. I placed her bag in the corner farthest from the door and sat on the bed. “So what would you like to do? I cooked some jollof rice. You want to eat or rest now?

She looked around the room. “Where did you cook?”

“Oh, we have a kitchenette downstairs,” I said, pointing in its direction.

She nodded as she sat on my computer chair. “And where do you keep your food?”

“We have a community fridge on each floor.”

She looked at me skeptically. “And your food is safe there?”

“Yes. Most people have fridges in their rooms so it’s usually quite empty.”

“I see. So maybe you should get one too. Wouldn’t that have been better that putting your food in that fridge and only God knows who goes in there? Get a fridge, okay?”

I sighed. “Yes, Mummy,” I replied, bracing myself for a sermon-filled afternoon. “So, do you want to eat?”

She shook her head. “Come, let’s go to the store first – I need to get something.”

*~*~*~*

“So what do you think of this scarf?” she asked, picking a light brown one from the rack.

I shrugged. “It’s alright but if Catherine wants a scarf, shebi she will get it herself?”

My mother frowned. “So just because she can get it herself I shouldn’t get it for her? So people should stop giving you gifts because you can get them yourself?”

“No, I’m just saying…”

“How about a bag?” she interrupted. “That’s the thing with having an American daughter-in-law – I don’t know what she likes.”

“Mummy, she will like anything you get for her.” I almost inaudibly groaned then rested against the wall. We had been shopping for over an hour and it was the last thing I needed after a morning of Signal Analysis. My tummy rumbled. “Mummy, do you want something to eat?”

Without looking from the belt in her hand she said, “You cooked, abi?”

“Yes.”

“So when we finish we will go and eat, abi? These fast food things are not good for you… I don’t even know why you like eating them so much. It’s not good for your body… although you are doing well,” she said, looking me over, “you haven’t gained since the last time, but if you stop eating all these burger things, I am sure you’ll be able to lose more.”

I rolled my eyes and berated myself for not knowing better – I should have known that the mere mention of food would bring about some weight-related comments. But I was pretty used to them by now, in the early days, I would have fixated on the comments and starved myself for two weeks. But not this time. The minute I dropped her off, I was making a trip to Domino’s Pizza.

She picked up a large leather bag. “What do you think of this?” She turned it around then looked at the price tag. “$150 for a bag? Suwa, why did you bring me to this expensive store?”

*~*~*~*

“Hmm,” my mother commented, chewing a spoon of rice, “you are getting better. A little more pepper and maybe a little more… curry? Or maybe some thyme.”

I rolled my eyes. “Is it really that important? When I am not going to be a chef.”

“So what? As a woman, there are things you should be able to do. But I’m not worried, I am sure that by the time you get married you’d be much better.”

I laughed. “Married?”

“Yes, now. You are next in line, you know?” she said, referring to the fact that my older siblings were married. “Since this is your last year, keep your eyes open. I pray that you find a nice Nigerian man who will take care of you.”

“Didn’t I tell you about the PhD program my professor talked to me about? This is probably not going to be my last year.”

My mother put down her fork. “I thought we decided to discuss this before you made any decisions.”

I nodded. “Yes, but from what my professor said, I am not going to pay any tuition plus I will get a stipend – there’s almost no reason to reject it.”

My mother sighed. “So you will now be in school for another 4 years?”

“At least.”

“At least? Adesuwa, isn’t that too much?”

“No, now…didn’t you go to Medical School?”

“And so? Do I work as a doctor? I don’t think this is a good idea. I know that the world is changing now but at some point, when you get a family you are going to have to stay home or maybe get a part time job – you wouldn’t need a PhD for that. And you know how men are… how many men want a woman that’s better educated than they are? It’s hard enough finding someone here without adding to it. Adesuwa, your Bachelor’s is good enough… or even a Master’s if you want to school further. No need for a PhD.”

“But the world is changing. Your life is different from Grandma’s – Daddy only has one wife. So you see the world is changing.”

She hissed. “And so? Besides, many things are still the same. No amount of education and advancement will change the fact that women have children. A man will still be a man, just like a woman should know her role. Why waste time and money on things that might be a hindrance in the future?”

Hindrance? I sighed. “I guess I will leave everything in God’s hands.” I knew that would put an end to the entire conversation.

“Yes, but… It’s okay. When you come to your brother’s place next month, we can all discuss it. Have you seen the new house yet?”

I shook my head. “No, but Nike says it’s huge. She was ranting about how they’d have to pay about ten times as much if they wanted a house like that in Manhattan.”

“Oh, okay.” My mother took a bite out of her chicken.

“Will Daddy be there by then?”

She swallowed the food then took a sip of water. “Yes, his flight arrives on the 23^rd.”

I thought for a second. “This will be his second time of meeting Catherine, abi?”

My mother nodded.

“That’s nice. I wonder how he will feel staying at their place.”

“He will be fine. He’s the father-in-law. And I am sure your brother has explained it to her– she has to make him feel at home. It’s me that will be living in another woman’s house… but it will be nice to spend some time with my granddaughter.”

*~*~*~*

“Abeg, hand me my bag,” my mother said the second I returned to the room with the washed dishes. I placed the dishes on my desk and grabbed the bag.

“Be careful!” she admonished as I handed it to her. “I have some bottles in it.” She laid it down then opened it. She pulled out two bottles of groundnuts and handed them to me. While I was looking for a place to keep them she said, “These are for you.” I turned around to see a burgundy satin boubou and light brown lace up-and-down on my bed.

“So what do you think of this?” she asked holding up a beautifully beaded beige lace top.

“That’s not for me?”

She shook her head. “Do you like it?”

I took it from her and unfolded it for a closer look. “Yes o. Can I exchange it with my own?”

She scowled and took it from me. “Of course not – this is for your sister-in-law.”

“Nike? Why didn’t you give it her when you were at their place?”

“Not Nike, Catherine.”

I looked at her in disbelief. “If you already had something for her, why did we buy something else today?”

“Because I am not sure she will like it. Where would she wear it to?”

I shrugged. “Then why bother?”

“I can’t come from Nigeria empty-handed, that’s how they will now say that I am treating her differently because she’s an American. Your brother is already acting somehow. Let her have this one to hold and then she can wear the shawl we bought this afternoon.”

I shook my head. “Then why can’t we just give her the one you got for me and let me take that one instead?”

“Why, you don’t like your own?”

I looked away from her. “I do,” I mumbled, “but why does she get two presents?”

“Stop complaining and hand me that wrapping paper, jo. Don’t worry, by God’s Grace, your own mother-in-law would do the same for you.”

*~*~*~*

“So what about that Osa that I met last time?”

“He’s fine.”

“You didn’t tell him I was coming?”

“Oh, I haven’t spoken to him in a while.”

“Why now? He seemed like a nice boy. He’s the kind of person you should keep around as a friend – you never know what might happen in the future.”

I rolled my eyes. “Oh, Mummy.”

“What? You have to start thinking about these things now because before you know it, you will be old.”

“But Aunty Mariam never married and her life turned out okay.”

“Oh, yes, I knew there was something I forgot to tell you.”

I raised my brow. “What?”

“Aunty Mariam is getting married o! I spoke to her yesterday.”

“To who?”

“I don’t know for her. She didn’t want to tell me what he does but I think she’d previously mentioned he was a teacher.”

“I see.” She never seemed like the type of person to marry down.

“Do you? Nobody likes being lonely. With all the money she has she still wants to marry. But because of her age look at what she’s marrying.”

“Maybe she loves him,” I snorted, “which is why she is marrying so late. If she hadn’t found him I am sure she wouldn’t be getting married.”

“Ah-ah, Adesuwa,” she groaned, shaking her head. “A woman cannot feel complete without a husband. How can you see all your friends with your husbands and children and just be living by yourself? Talk less of what people will be saying about you. It’s not good. And at her age can she even have children?” She shook her head in pity. “But it’s her fault for waiting so long.”

“So Mummy, how’s work going?” I asked, changing the subject. I’d had enough of hearing about marriage especially as I’d never really thought of hers as ‘perfect’. “Everything is going well?”

She shrugged. “It’s okay… it’s alright.”

“So have you thought about taking that refresher course so that you can try to get a hospital job?”

She exhaled then hissed. “Abeg, my time has passed – what will I be doing at the hospital now?” She looked up wistfully, “Sometimes I wonder… Only God knows where I would have been if I’d been working as a doctor all these years – maybe I would have been the Chief-of-Staff.” She laughed.

I didn’t get the joke. “So why did you give it up?”

“It’s not like I gave it up – I just made a different choice. You father didn’t think it would have been a good idea for both of us to be doctors with the ‘on call’ business and everything. One of us had to be around to raise you children … but now that you children have grown, I can rest.”

Resting? She sounded more bored than anything else. “But you could have been the Chief-of-Staff,” I pointed out.

“Yes, maybe. But maybe not. Everything thing happens according to God’s Plan.”

*~*~*~*

“I can’t believe you came to this great city without really see anything,” I said the moment we were seated on the train.

“We didn’t have much time,” she replied matter-of-factly.

“Next time, I guess.”

“Yes, next time when you have bought your Mercedes Benz and can drive me around.”

I laughed. “Yes.”

We sat in silence till an obese lady got in at the next stop.

“Hmmm,” she commented under her breath.

I turned my face away and rolled my eyes.

“That kind of thing is not good,” she said under her breath. “It’s really bad for your health.”

“She could be healthy,” I countered. “There are a lot of new studies that show that overweight people aren’t necessarily unhealthy.”

“And so? Does that make it okay to look like that? Who doesn’t like food? Everybody likes food but it doesn’t mean you should get fat ‘kpo kpo kpo’ like that. Imagine what people must say wherever she goes.”

“Maybe she doesn’t care,” I replied trying my best to keep my tone low. “What other people think doesn’t matter.”

“Since when? Don’t believe all that rubbish o. What people think matters. When you go for an interview, when you go anywhere, you have to present yourself well because it always matters – don’t believe all that nonsense, Adesuwa, you hear? Don’t be eating anyhow because it doesn’t matter what people think, because it does. And even if people don’t care, you yourself should care.”

I was getting slightly irritated that she was talking to me like a little child so I didn’t respond.

“That’s what you people come here to learn then start behaving anyhow,” she muttered under her breath. “All these people that go around wearing tattoos and looking like vagabonds you don’t think that people treat them differently? Can that kind of person become anything in life? Ani’s son came over to your brother’s place with woven hair trying to do ‘guy’. Has he ever seen his father with hair like that? Is that what they teach you people in this country?”

I kept quiet and just spent the entire trip to the airport wondering what experiences she must have had in her life to make her think this way. Or if the Nigerian society was so poisonous that it crushed our collective self esteem and forced us to live like zombies.

About thirty minutes later, we were at the ticket counter watching the airline representative print out her boarding pass.

“So, Suwa, my darling Suwa, take care of yourself, okay?”

“Okay.” But I wasn’t ready for the pleasant goodbyes. For the past twenty minutes, a question had been bugging me so I decided to ask it. “So Mummy,” I started as we walked towards the security point, “do you have any regrets?”

She looked up at me. “About?”

“About giving up your dreams of being a doctor.”

My mother sighed. She furrowed her brows and looked into my eyes. “What made you think of that?”

I looked away. “I was just wondering.”

“Of course I sometimes wonder what my life might have been like. Then I look at your father and see how stressed he always is and you know…”

“But Daddy didn’t have the passion for it. He wanted to be an artist but Grandpa forced him into it.”

“Where did you…?” She burst out laughing. “Na wa for you o. You still remember that story?” She shook her head. “The lesson you were supposed to take from that was that if his parents hadn’t intervened, your father would have struggled. We would have all lived a different life. You and your brothers and sisters would not have had the opportunity to attend the best schools, go on holiday... Adesuwa, we all make sacrifices – men, women, everyone. We all do it for the greater good. I hope you will soon understand that.”

I nodded. “So are you saying that you have no regrets?”

“Adesuwa, na wa for you!” She tapped my arm. “I have raised four intelligent, successful children who are all settling down and doing well so what more can I ask for?”

“Okay, Mummy.” I beamed at her and pretended not to notice that she hadn’t really answered my question.

*~*~*~*

On the train ride back, I thought about my mother and everything she’d said that day. I imagined the type of woman she must been at my age and realized that she was probably exactly as I was – same enthusiasm, same ambitions and maybe even the same ideologies. But as life unraveled bit by bit it was probably easier to live according to the laws the Nigerian society had laid down. I wondered if twenty-odd years down the line, I too would have the same conversation with my daughter, giving her words of advice I hoped would shield her from the harsh disappointments life had gleefully served me. Or would I give her the kind of advice I was sure my father gave my brothers that had encouraged one to become a successful doctor and the other an up-and-coming Wall Street whiz? As I leaned my head against the window and watched a Hispanic lady and her two young daughters board the train, I shut my eyes and prayed for the latter.

Email Enagwolo at enagwolo@gmail.com