Mother talked to me like she would to her adult brother and held herself firmly. She did not drop tears to my surprise. If it were before, she would have cried openly. She begged me to be decent and responsible, as she had told my master, Amadi. She also told me that I should protect the image of my family and never to dent it in anyway.
The next morning arrived, it was a day I could not easily forget in my life. We woke up early and made few preparations. Soon, we were sober. We were not sad, yet we were not happy. It was a time to be separated from my lovely family. The journey was very far and we needed to start early. My master, Amadi, came in with his boy and we stood up immediately we saw them coming in. He briefly talked to Mother and Ezechi who, I only knew that day, was my cousin in the second lineage. Ezechi would have to be told because I was not a son to a woman but to the family, and if Mother had taken me out without consenting him, she would be made to appear before the elders.
Soon, Amadi and Ezechi moved out of our compound, cracking adult jokes, while Mother was busy advising me on the do’s and don’ts I would need to observe in my master’s house. Her advice, which she repeated severally for emphasis, proved correct and became the basis for how I related with my master all the days I spent with him.
Finally, it was time to be separated from Mother and my little ones – people I had known all my entire short life especially my Mother; the woman that gave me life and all support I needed in life to survive. It was time to separate from them to go and create my own world. The transfer of responsibility which father’s death foisted on me several years ago became real. The tears that revolted within me and rolled down my face made the load heavier. I remembered many things. Many voices spoke in my heart and I had to be calm to isolate them one at a time. A time to think about many things.
‘My son, we shall part from here. Look at us. Look at yourself too. Look at our old house. We are standing on nothing. Our future depends entirely on you. As for me and your younger ones, we shall try our best and keep you in our prayers. One’s chi never dies. He will keep you and save you from problems. Do behave responsibly.’ Mother said with tears in her eyes.
I looked down to avoid tears from coming. Goose pimples formed all over my body. Mother may go into a deep mental suffering again I worried.
‘I don’t want to go, Mama. You will suffer again.‘ I said.
‘Don’t worry my son. Don’t worry about me. We shall be fine. Please do go with him.’
‘I have heard you Mother and please don’t cry again. I would not like that.’
‘I will not,’ she said wiping her tears.
I know she was pretending. She was heavy with tears in her eyes.
My younger ones were crying. I moved closer to them, knelt down and touched them as I wiped their faces and pleaded with them to stop crying. It was better to be with them, with my many problems than they missing me. It was part of a family life, to make trouble and come together again. At least it was a way to train ourselves when we would be married to people from other families or when we live home to join other people, to learn how to live with people no matter how bad and difficult they would prove. I also told Uzor who was the eldest to take care of Mother and to help her in the house and in the farm. They really did not want me to go but I had to. I had made up my mind.
I dipped hand into my bag and brought out all the money I had saved to help Mother in the following year farming season. I gave them each pence and gave the rest to Mother. The money was a surprise to her but it didn’t mean as much as I meant to her. She would dearly miss me.
The cord holding us together as a family was very strong. She looked pleadingly into my eyes. Now, it was difficult for me to ignore her. I did not let out tears. I took a few steps away from them and looked back at intervals to know if they were still watching. They stood clutched together. I bade them a fond good bye and deep down in my heart, I knew that I would miss their love. I did not want to leave my native home, native floor, farm and the stream. I did not want to miss Mother and my younger ones for whom I had developed a strong liking. I did not want to miss my little barn, old gun, and my fish net and farm equipment. I did not want to miss old faces and friends though many were no longer close to me. I did not want to miss my little room; the little world that sheltered me for long which now would be occupied by my younger brothers – too many things to leave behind, too many things to miss, too many things to remember outside home.
That was sadly the last time I saw Mother standing on her two feet. Years later, I just wished my dreams and desire and that of Mother for a better life had come true. I wanted to grow responsibly and it was my moral duty to take steps that would help me to grow.
Mother was worried and desperate about me. She wanted me to grow into a full grown man very fast. She was eager to see me develop the mannerism of a man and manage with my own children the large compound which I was to inherit as the first son. She expected me to work hard and looked to me. She hoped that as soon as my younger ones grew, I would be able to afford a new better zincked house for the whole family and make her happy as a mother.