Mama had lost her husband years ago immediately you were born.
You lost your two siblings to an unknown disease that broke out in your small community, but God singled you out.
Mama suffered, shuffling between taking care of you and hunting for people to get money from in order to send you to the Community Primary School.
During the rainy season, mama always stood and watched you sleep, because every other place in the hut was leaking.
In the morning, she was always the first person to wake, to light up the fire wood so you could bath with hot water before leaving for school, and take breakfast. When you were off to school, she always soaked garri, accompanied with Palm-kennel nuts, because she had used her widow’s mite to buy your Primary six text book. Mama said you were going to make her proud.
You wrote the primary six examination and passed in flying colours. Mama was happy, her son had made her proud. She worked harder in order to send you to the Missionary Secondary school in your village. While you were asleep at day time, mama was weeding a neighbour’s farm, inorder to get money for your school fees. She refused to let you work, or suffer like her. She always said you were going to make her proud.
You struggled and got into the Missionary school, while your mates were boarders, you were a day student because mama couldn’t afford to pay your boarding fees, and you had to walk 30miles because you wanted to make mama proud. With God by your side, you graduated from school as the best student. Mama was happy for you, she promised to use her last blood to send you to the university.
By now, mama was getting older, her wrinkles expanded every day, and her skin turned dry. Mama suffered to gather money for your Jamb; you wrote and passed, and was offered admission into the University to study Engineering. Mama was happy, her son will be the first to go to a university. Everyone looked up to you, to bring light to your community. Mama always said you were going to make her proud.
My brother, when you started school, you made friends, went for parties, night clubs. You did not only drink, but you also smoked weed, just in your first year. And whenever you visited home, you lied to mama about being a serious student. Mama went around the village telling everyone her son was schooling in the state’s most prestigious University. In school, you were known as a Barga, but in the village, you were that obedient and humble boy, and every mother pointed at you when you walked pass.
“You See, mma ikwos son, Etet-ete, I want you to be like him”, every mother always said. Mama named you Solomon, but when you went to school, you changed your name to “Alomo bitters”. Mama always said you were going to make her proud.
During your third year in school, you joined the frat guys on campus, who robbed and molested anyone at their own will. The little money mama worked to earn under different weathers; doing damage to her health to send to you – you dropped as dues in your so called brotherhood. You didn’t only end there, you shot a fellow student who later bit the dust. When News got to mama that school was rough, she said, she trusted you and you were going to make her proud.
Thank God, you made it to your final year. You prayed all night, attended vigils. All you needed at that point was to graduate. Your visit to the church for the first time in five years was for the confession session with the Reverend Father.
The number of people whose lives had been taken by you could not be counted on your ten fingers and toes -twenty in total. The father to whom you made your confession was shocked to his bone marrow.
Instead of following protocols, the Father promised to snitch to the police, and what did you do? You killed him the next day.
Few days to your final paper, you disguised yourself, just to gain entrance into the exams hall. Your capon had warned you to suspend the exams because there was going to be a terrible fight in school, but you refused. That was when it dawned on you to make mama proud. Yes, you succeeded in entering the exams hall to write, and after exams, unknown gun men were waiting for you. You mixed with the crowd to hide yourself, but you had already been spotted.
The foolish Frat guy on orange polo didn’t want to lose the last chance of killing you, he fired a shot into the crowd, everyone scattered. A dead girl was found on the floor; crestfallen to find out it was his girlfriend. You ran and didn’t look back, but they finally caught up with you. You pleaded on mama’s behalf to be saved but it all fell on deaf ears. You were shot in the chest without a second thought.
You have finally made mama proud of you. Young man, even in your grave you will still suffer. When mama received the news of your death, mama cried and wished for death but death was too far. You were supposed to bury mama but mama ended up burying you.
Mama said you were going to make her proud, you did, but it didn’t last. She said you would become all she had envisioned for you, but you failed mama.
Written by Glory Asuquo, Creative Writer at Core Magazine
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