YES, ALL MEN WILL DIE
YES, ALL MEN WILL DIE (In memory of my late ‘sweet’ mum) When my mother died, people said, ‘…your mother has gone to fight for you…’ I heard much of this amid tears. Today, I still hear the voices reverberating. I believe! While the remains of my mother was being lowered into the grave and everybody (family members) had moved closer to the tomb, I remained on my seat right at the front where they made for the family members. I was not still shouting down heaven and asking God “why?” I was just there, like a doll placed on that plastic chair. I did not move or speak, until two people held my hands and said something almost in a whisper, “bia ka iwunyere mama aja.” Reality had dawned. Mama was already in the grave. It was time to pay my last respect. It is traditional. A man scooped deep-brown sand with the shovel and handed to me. “Ngwa…,” he said. With my hands shaky, I let the sand drop on mama’s coffin three times before tears clouded my face, and again those two hand