By Samson Ezea 

Maama, as we often call you, since your demise on February 3rd, 2025, I have continued to struggle to be myself and come to terms with the reality that you are no more. This is not because I didn't know that death is inevitable. I know, but I didn't see your own coming when it came. 

Apart from talking to you on the phone almost every morning, I was with you alongside other members of our family during the Christmas and New Year celebrations. You were in high spirits and never betrayed any emotion that your demise was imminent.   

When my younger brother and your second son, Barr. Ejioffor came to pick up his repaired car at Nsukka after Christmas last year, he called to inform me that he was at home to see you and for you to know that the car has been repaired. I told him no problem, believing it wasn't a big deal. The next day, he told me he had taken you to the hospital because you complained about your legs. I said ok. 

Before I knew what was happening the next day, Obiageli, your daughter, and my elder sister called to inform me that you were not picking calls again. I became worried and upset. I called you as usual that morning, and you didn't pick. I hurriedly rushed home, and Obiageli was already at home. On seeing you, you couldn't recognize me and couldn't answer me. 

You were down and out but struggled not to give up. I was disorganized, but held on to the hope that you will overcome. After being with you for some days, I left for Enugu on Sunday 2nd February, 2025, only to be called the next day February 3rd, 2025 around 12noon by Obiageli that you have given up the ghost. I wept profusely, knowing full well that I have lost a pillar, confidante, and a mother like no other. 

My case became worse on February 23rd, 2025, upon my coming home to prepare for your burial. On climbing the step and sauntering into the compound, your presence was missing at your usual sitting position in the corridor of the house. 

Everywhere was quiet like a graveyard. Nobody welcomed me with the usual smile and joy. Nobody called me Chinenye, Akworu, or Honourable. Tears rolled down my cheek. It was dawned on me that the pillar of the house was no more.

Maama, where will I start the story and journey of my life and your tremendous role in making me who I am today? 

Was it when you started buying newspapers-The Satellite, New outlook, Complete Football, and others for me whilst I was in primary school? Was it when you bought Oxford Dictionary for me in primary six from Dennis Okakwu's book shop at Eke Aku? 

Was it when you stopped me from going to undertake business apprenticeship in Niger State after my primary education, insisting that I must at least attend secondary school to enable me know how to read and write and be able to defend myself of any financial allegation? 

You lived up to your words by seeing me and my younger brother Ejioffor through secondary school education, after which we went for business apprenticeship in Lagos and Nassarawa states and later returned for the higher institutions. Today, the rest is history. You were not educated but were imbued with high wisdom, knowledge, and intelligence. As a child, our mud house was a Mecca of sort to many who came to consult you and your husband on issues and others. You saw and passed through a lot, all in a bid to ensure that we were okay and comfortable. 

You have always left your door open even when you were consistently struggling to make both ends meet for the family. You always reminded me where I was coming from and the reason I should not fail myself. 

When in 2008 I returned from Lagos to inform you that I want to marry and build a house, you shed tears of joy, prayed for me and told me that I have made you proud, while you were alive. I have always shared my plans or moves with you, and you have always advised me right.

Often, you visited my house in Lagos and embraced my family and every other person. You never discriminated against anyone, not even your enemies. Your level of stoicism, patience, and tolerance were unprecedented. 

No wonder you enjoyed tremendous goodwill and good name. Testimonies abound about your goodness and impeccable character. I am humbled and proud of your personality even in death. 

You were a mother like no other and a symbol of peace, unity, womanhood, and motherhood. I am lucky and proud to have you as my mother. Your demise has left a big vacuum in my life, because you're exceptionally irreplaceable. 

The moments I shared with you, especially since 2018, that I joined the Enugu State Government to serve as a senior media aide to the then Governor, Ifeanyi Ugwuanyi were memorable,  salutary and exciting. 

It afforded me the rare opportunity of always being at home to see and talk with you on so many issues that helped in keeping our family together and moving us forward. 

Mama, you will forever remain evergreen in my memory. Let your spiritual presence and good deeds continue to guide and direct my path. Let what I gained from your fountain of wisdom and knowledge continue to resonate in my life. You were indeed a role model and a blessing to humanity.

I have repeatedly and jokingly told you not to die then because you will not finish eating and spending what I will use to bury you for years to come. This is notwithstanding the fact that I know that death is inevitable. On several occasions, you have cheated death, not because you were above it, but God had always given you a chance. But you couldn't resist it again on February 3rd, 2025. You answered the call, choosing not to stress us. 

Continue to rest in the bosom of the Lord Nwunye Nwa Lolo, Oke Nwanyi, Agbara Nwanyi, Nnemurora. I found solace in the fact that you lived a good life and left good legacies and great memories in the hearts of many that crossed your path. 

Adieu Mama Okwukwe.