I heard her voice. In her characteristic manner, unique to her alone she called me Jarla!
She is , she was and remains the only person that made my name sound like a pet name in a very romantic way.
I didn’t know how much of love she invested in all her Children ( Ngelina, Theresa, Michael, Catherine, Benedicta, Patricia , Uk and Edina her only daughter in- law)and grandchildren. But she indeed without sparing anything gave each and every one of us our due granny love and affection.
She passed last year at a very ripe and unique age of 106. Did I cry! Did I feel she should have lived a bit longer? Or it was time for her to go and rest after years of being bedridden and partially unconsciousness of her environment? I don’t even know how and what I felt then but the feeling I am having now is one of nostalgia.
Ever since she passed, the memories shared, the jokes she cracked, the charism with which she enjoyed her favourite drink ( stout) and the chuckles on her face when she wanted to play a smart one on one come with a surge in my mind.
Suddenly it dawned on me how thick the bond was and how painful and nostalgic the lose is even at age of 106.
She wasn’t literate but her depth of wisdom and native intelligence dwarfed the articulation and brilliance of the lettered. Always ahead of situations with a mind and poise that showed nothing but confidence.
This morning, scrolling through my gallery I stumbled on one of her pictures taken probably in her sixties . I could see the vanity of life.
Beauty and elegance of her youth hidden and covered by the emerging wrinkles of aging. No wonder my grandpa went for her.
For a while I stared deep into the picture that took my breath for seconds. So mama was this beautiful? elegant and delectable? Without make up? No foundation for cosmetic? Still her natural beauty glowed? I wondered!!
Still looking at the picture, her image in her nineties, frailed limb, floppy skin, dimmed eyes and failing memories hit me hard. Same person with different messages hitting me.
What after all is in this world? Green as a banana in ones childhoood , yellow and attractive in ones adolescence/ adulthood, carried around for sale. Spoit, looking dried and unattractive very much in ones old age.
What is in this world after all? Watching still this picture of hers, I saw myself going through same phase in life. There was a time I was younger. Each day that passes brings me closer to the very path plied by granny. What a reality? As real and true it appears, it will take a broken person to be humbled by this reality and see life and everything around it as vanity, moving gradually into death and extinction.
Mama Uluma! Mama Seba! Mama Rosa! You are gone! Gone into eternity but your thoughts will always speak truth to me.
I remember that day I walked into your room with my siblings. I waited for you to call me Jarla but you couldn’t. You didn’t even notice our presence. I looked at you laid helplessly on the bed. No strength! Where is Uluma Seba i used to know ? The always agile and irrepressible woman of blunt demeanour? Such is life, once alive with the grace of old age, nature one day will fail one.
Laying today in the mortuary, the preparation of your befitting burial isn’t negotiable. You had it all! You made impart, the life you lived and the children, grand and great grand children you have showed that your time here on earth was strikingly profund and your funeral wouldn’t be of anything less.
We love you mama Seba!
Continue to rest in the peace of God!
Jarlath Uche Opara Jarlathuche@gmail.com
