Opinion
Mama Powder Is A Nonagenarian
By Francis Ewherido
I am extremely happy today on the 90th birthday of my mother, Mrs. Paulina Powder Ewherido, aka Mama Powder. It has been 90 years of the love and mercy of God; joyful moments, celebrations, illnesses, heartbreaks and pains.
You do not live for 90 years without joys and battle scars. She has had a mixed bag. She was born to Ojiyovwire Onotanimedo, a hardworking and relatively wealthy farmer and hunter in their time, and Eyovwunu Onotanimedo, a housewife who supported her husband in the farm, on September 5, 1933, in Omoku, present day Rivers State.
They were Christians of the Catholic faith. Though not educated, they kept records of the dates of birth of their children with the aid of their baptismal cards.
Since he was not educated, my grandfather vowed that all his children, male and female, must be well educated. Mama Powder started elementary school in Omoku.
Her father owned a hamlet in Omoku. Life was going on smoothly until 1946 when he fell ill. When it became apparent that he was not going to survive, they headed home (present day Delta State) by canoe (paddling). He died two days into the journey. Tradition forbade my grandmother from seeing the corpse of her husband. Mama Powder, then 13 years, was the eldest child on board (her two elder sisters were not around), so they laid her father’s head and upper body on her young laps until they got to Ewhu, my grandma’s hometown before proceeding to his home town.
After my grandfather’s burial, my grandmother refused to be “shared” to any of my grandfather’s relatives. She settled in Ewhu, where Mama Powder lived the rest of her childhood. She dropped out of school to support my grandmother to raise and educate her three younger siblings. In January 1954, she got married at 21 to a 28-year-old teacher, Joseph Ukaniedife Ewherido.
Together, they had nine children. Death of children visited them first in 1960. It visited again in 2013 and 2015, wiping a third of her children. It could have been worse, but God said uwhubetine (enough of these deaths, which also means none of her children must predecease her again).
On May 31, 1988, death struck again. She was at the General Hospital, Warri, Delta State, where my father who was on admission. After having his bath, he laid down and made a sound that looked like he was clearing his throat. Mama Powder asked what the issue was, but there was no response. She went closer and asked, but still no response. She shook him, raised an alarm and called the medical personnel, but her husband of 34 years, the only man she knew was gone forever. Mama Powder belongs to the endangered species of married women who proudly tell you that they have known only one man all their lives.
She lived her marital vows of “for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish till death do us part,” which she took in January 1954, to the end. She was with my father through it all. They married when my father was a grade three teacher. He did grade two, A ‘levels, acquired a university degree and a post graduate diploma.
This meant he was away from his family for long periods, but there was no excuse of “since you are frequently away….,” or “there was no food in the house, so….” She was faithful and devoted to him till May 31, 1988, when he breathed his last.
She was traumatised for years by my father’s death. She also lost a grandson, her siblings and some other close friends and relatives over the years. She also has scars from her personal battles. From 1974 to 1980, her health was dodgy. On many occasions, it did not look like she was going to see the next day. Many were her afflictions during this period, but God saw her through them all. She had some respite from 1980.
In 1997, illness revisited with a venom. This time around, it was like game over. A doctor even told her to go home and wait for death. Her situation was grave. She even said her goodbyes to all of us. That was chilling. But like the proverbial cat with nine lives which she is, God again intervened and Mama Powder pulled through. And so today she is alive to witness her 90th birthday.
Mama Powder’s numerous scars notwithstanding, her faith (esegbuyota) in God remains unshakable. She has had a great and fulfilled life. She is living well. She is exceptionally loved both by biological and other numerous children. Mama is like a babe with many boyfriends (children, adopted children and grandchildren) who have spoilt her silly with love, care and attention. Jude, one of my brothers, and I are the only ones who “fights” with her.
I tackle her due to her stubbornness and conservatism. For at least 52 years now, I have not seen Mama Powder take any other milk except Peak. She only switched to new brands of tin tomatoes, seasoning and body cream when the ones she was using while I was growing up disappeared from the market. My brothers have advised me to let her be. I have relented because you cannot teach an old dog new tricks. But occasional “fights” are inevitable. When she accuses me of being too stubborn, I murmur, “wetin lion dey born, goat?”
Mama Powder lives her life on her own terms. Nobody can do anything about that. She is ultraconservative. She has only agreed to travel abroad a few times for pilgrimage, graduation, anniversary and medicals. Nobody can force her to travel outside Delta State, not to talk of Nigeria, unless she wants to and she decides when she must return.
She will stay for a short while and tell you that her other children (biological and adopted) are missing her and she wants to go home. At other times, she will simply tell you, if you suggest travelling, that “ohwo vuovo kese whievwe n’uwhevwi vwee (Nobody can uproot me from my house). Mama Powder is strong-willed, but that is just her character.
Do not go to Mama Powder if you do not like the truth. When we were growing up; if she wanted to tell you the bitter truth, she would start by saying, “my son, you know in this life, it’s only the person closest to you who can tell you that you have bad breath…” Once you hear that intro, prepare for the bomb. She does not know how to deodorise what is bad.
She can also embarrass or annoy people sometimes. A relative who is about 6.3 feet tall came to introduce his fiancée to Mama. The lady was barely five feet. Mama Powder responded, “What is this, my son? You are up there and your wife is down there?” The lady’s countenance changed. When I complained to Mama Powder later that she was too brash. She reminded me that she is too old to say it looks greyish when it is apparently black. Mama Powder used to see and hear so much, but said very little. These days, she talks more than she used to while we were growing up. I would tease her that “mama, you are deviating from what you taught us. You talk too much these days.”
Mama, like the rest of humankind, is not a perfect person, but I desire no other woman as a mother. Today is a wonderful day. I am very happy. I want to specially thank God for the gift and life of Mama Powder. I look forward to many more birthdays. For now, let me savour this day that the lord has made. I rejoice and I am glad in it.
Mama, I know you do not need reminders, but let me all the same remind you that your children love you endlessly and unconditionally. Our joy is indescribable. Happy 90th birthday, Mama Powder. I know that longevity runs in the veins of the women of Ekrunrophori Quarters, Ewhu, but surviving all these obstacles and battles can only be by the grace of God. May God grant you many more years in health of body and mind. Happy birthday, our prayer warrior and historian.
Francis Ewherido is a GWG columnist
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