Musing About My Mum

I have been thinking lately about this woman's influence in my life. As hilarious as it may be,it is the truth. She sits comfortably like the African queen in my short poems. In my short stories, there is a woman that was fiercely inspired by her. In the "empty chapters" of my novel, Shattered Dreams, she speaks life and action through the characters.

I was born in 10th December,2007,in Onitsha,by a strong huge Igbo woman,Onyinyechi Blessing Onuoha. I grew up to know her as a robust looking woman, whose skin was dark and shone like a polished wood. She had no reason to wear synthetic hair because her natural hair was dark and long. To be sincere,my mother has never had a reason to wear a synthetic hair(even now). She will neatly pack her hair in folds. Most times, she does this with a careless appeal that whispers class.

And to think that she is a teacher, one who has spent almost twenty years of her life imparting knowledge into children, is the biggest deal. Before marriage, my mother taught in different primary schools in Enugu. At the time, this was her only means of supporting her tertiary education. Her parents were poor and she had to live in a couple of homes, including relatives,as a housemaid. Her elder brother was just settled from apprenticeship. Worse still, she had to support her siblings through the peanut she got as salary. And even in marriage, my mother carried this same energy into marriage, supporting her family at a time when the economy wanted to see to their fatal end. She did this not because she is a supporter of women's suffering; she is doing it because she believes in people and systems.

My mother laid the foundation of education in my life. My mother taught in the same school I attended. So, basically, she is part of my academic life. She tracked my performance in school and after school,we spend time reading together. This was the stepping stone I needed for my growth as a writer. Her continuous support towards my education led me to discover parts I never knew existed in me.

At the age of seven, I made way to her shelf, reading through the minds that has shaped African literature. At a very young age, I read Alex La Guma, Mariama Ba and my quest for knowledge led me to read about different African literary giants.

But how can I forget about my mother's support and love for her children. I think my mother is a real definition of an African mother. A typical African mother is overprotective of her children but she can never let an offense slide. For her, njo obula nwere ugwo na-eso ya(an Igbo phrase which means every sin must not go unpunished). That's the definition of my mother. My mother is so overprotective of her four children that people had to refer to me as "mummy's boy". 

It is always said that an African mother will sell her piece of wrappers and jewelry to see her children through their education. After the loss of my brother in 2014, a loss that almost tore my mother apart, my family went into a season of famine that has clocked to our dress like a baby strapped to the back. I knew hunger for the first time in 2015. My father's business was in turmoil, school fees had to be paid, bills has to be sorted out... But my mother stepped in to solve the problem. She carried the cross steadily like Jesus during His passion.

Even in my insecurities, my mother supported me. As a child, I was bullied and abused because of my stature and my voice. But my mother held my hand. She was the shoulder I cry on when I was bullied by my peers.

In 2020, I wrote my first novel, The Quest for Revenge. I refer to this year as my year of transformation because that was the year I boldly called myself a writer. The novel, The Quest for Revenge, tells the story of a girl who had to do everything possible, even killing her best friend, to navigate a male dominated environment. The story was set in the militarized Nigeria.

Somehow, I managed to covert our two bedroom apartment into a book reading. After writing a chapter, I will read it aloud to my mother, who would laugh and laugh. She never laughed to belittle my humble beginnings. She was amazed by my creativity. In the end, the characters in my novel, including the protagonist,died.

In 2022, I started the journey of writing my second novel, Shattered Dreams, which I'm currently pitching to literary agents. The writing journey was a shift in mindset. The novel was supposed to be a story that runs from precolonial to post colonial Nigeria that points towards the evils of colonialism, neocolonialism and corruption. However, the setting of the novel shifted to a fictional world. I wrote the novel with Cobhams Asuquo's Ordinary People ringing in my head, bearing in my mind that my mother is the real definition of an ordinary woman who lives an extraordinary life.

My mother has been a strong pillar that has held my house. 

The queen of my soul.

The love of my life.

My mistress.

I can't wait for you to be acknowledged as the mother of internationally acclaimed and celebrity novelist and journalist, Chidera Onuoha.

Thank you for making a difference.