Your greatest prayer, “Ni sue ivbi mwensee Eke n’onan mi muran” (Your will be done on Earth as it is in Heaven), came true. You walked beside us, held our hands with love, and embodied the meaning of love for all your children. God answered your prayers, Mama, but you remained humble.
I confess, your kindness made me a bit dependent. You provided for me, my children, friends, and extended family. Your generosity knew no bounds. Your kitchen was my personal supermarket, stocked with everything I needed. Even abroad, I never lacked for food. Your hospitality extended not just to me, but to my friends who’d find themselves cooking and eating in your kitchen while I was at school. What a kind heart God blessed you with! You instilled that giving spirit in your children, too.
Looking at my siblings, I know “Mama Nosa lives on.” You were my constant source of support, through thick and thin. When things got tough, you were the only one I saw. When pain threatened to overwhelm me, you were there to comfort and reassure me, making sure things settled down again. You were by my side every step of the way, even back in primary school when “Edo aunty” wanted to play around – little did I know you were the one coaching me! And who can forget when I struggled with NMC? “Nawa! You self-don try, mama” (You’ve tried your best, mama). Let’s not even mention how you set up a business for me when I returned from Warri – before I even knew what hit me, I was an international businesswoman, talking in dollars and pounds!
I used to brag to my friends about my “Aza Woman.” A simple call, and help was assured. Remember that drawer at the market? “Make we Rest” (Let’s take a break)! I even created a code for others: “Just cry and go see my Mama, you’re covered. Don’t worry, just cry. She’ll help you.” You touched the lives of everyone around you, even those who didn’t necessarily need your help. You went above and beyond to ensure they were settled. I often wondered what kind of special person you were.

You are my source of strength. Even in the most challenging times, you maintained a brave facade, never wanting to worry anyone. When asked how you were doing, your reply was always a cheerful “I Fine Pass You” (I’m better than you). You prioritized our well-being above your own, getting dressed and going to the market even when you weren’t feeling well. And even close to the end, you were at your “hustling ground” until the very last day.
My confidante, my endless source of amusement. We could talk on the phone for hours, and you’d never tire of my ramblings. “Food dey, I must chop” (There’s food, I have to eat) – that was me, your “Mama Nosa pikin” (Mama Nosa’s child). We had our arguments too, Mama, and I miss them even now.
You did everything for me – blessed me, supported me, stood by me. It wouldn’t be a stretch to call you my everything. You taught me everything I know about patience, except for how to live without you.
Now, I pick up my phone, and the call log is empty. No more 12 missed calls from my “Sugar mummy” or “family call.” Who will wake me up and tell me to catch my bus so I won’t be late? Who will my children call grandma? Who will Tuoyo trouble anymore? Who will pamper my baby Tehila? Who will make me feel important? “You do this one ooh”.
But it’s okay, Mama. Rest. “You self don try” (You’ve done well). You deserve peace. I pray God grants you eternal peace and rest. No doubt, you were an Angel on Earth, and now you are one in Heaven.
Iye N’ukpọn n’i ya hi’egbe Iye nọ kok’ọmọ
Iyemwẹ nọ ghan
Iyemwẹ nọ l’ẹtin
Iye ọmọ hia