Mama Agba was black, ebony black, tall and bulky. But her hostess, Iya Ibeji was yellow, short and thickset with a cicatrized face. Mama’s towering figure dwarfed that of Iya Ibeji as the two women stood in front of the latter’s house this misty morning discussing the waywardness of Malomo, Iya Ibeji’s only surviving child. Mama Agba’s sonorous voice carried far as she expressed her deep concerns. She had called on the younger Iya Ibeji that morning to fulfill an earlier promise, breaking her sleep.


Photo by Antoine Plüss on Unsplash

During a chance meeting between the two in the market the previous day, Mama had dropped a hint casually that she would be having a word with the other woman the next day over an important issue. This hint had naturally aroused the anxiety of Iya Ibeji who requested the elderly woman to give her a glimpse of subject to be discussed so as to relieve her suspense. But Mama refused to open up, insisting that the matter could wait till the next day.
‘It is an important matter as I have said, not an urgent matter’ she told Iya Ibeji in a voice that brooked no dissent. In effect, the younger woman had no alternative than to put her anxiety on the hold. The custom of the people did not allow the young to engage the old in needless arguments. And even if it did, Iya Ibeji could not find the nerve to take on the fierce, fire-eating market chief in such argument. Mama Agba was the Iyaloja, the traditional head of the market women in Agboligi.

True to her word, Mama was in Iya Ibeji’s house by the first light of the dawn. She wore a light buba and iro made from adire and a headgear to match.

‘I’ve come to talk to you concerning Malomo’ the market chief began earnestly as soon as Iya Ibeji had come out to exchange the customary greetings with her ‘I can’t pretend to be happy with the way she has been messing herself around with men these days’ She wore a serious expression as she spoke

‘Thank you, Mama’ Mama Ibeji found herself saying timidly, not knowing how best to react to the observation of the older woman

‘I know many people are also disappointed with Malomo’s waywardness’ Mama continued. ‘But the difference between those people and I is that they are either unable or unwilling to tell you the truth’ She paused for a moment, looking at her hostess full in the face. Malomo’s mother shrank in embarrassment as the Iyaloja’s eyes bore into her

‘But for me, it is my bounden duty to tell you the truth to your face. And if you like you may not greet me as from today’, She paused again before delivering her verdict: ‘Malomo is a shame and I must say that you have shirked your responsibilities to her as a mother’.

‘But you know the situation with her’.

‘Don’t tell me that’ Mama cut in sharply’ There is nothing special about Malomo. She is not the first abiku in this town, neither will she be the last. She is also not the only girl of her age whose father is no more. So nothing makes her circumstances special, absolutely nothing’ Mama said firmly, emphatically, pursing her lips. Iya Ibeji nodded agreement dumbly.

‘You must call her to order. A child can’t outgrow her mother’s discipline. And you must have noticed that I’ve not made any reference to Simpson. I regard his angle as utter rubbish, a thing not worthy of any mention ‘she belched “And by the way where is the girl?’

‘She travelled two days ago’ Iya Ibeji lied. There was a slight tremor in her voice.

‘Okay. But tell her to comport herself whenever she come back and to stop behaving like a spoilt child. And I hope you‘ll remember to say it exactly the way I put it’. Her voice was tough and unfeminine.

‘Yes, Mama’ she confirmed in a shaking voice, adding ‘And God will bless your own children.’

After seeing the other woman off, Iya Ibeji came home to ruminate over the early morning encounter. She felt the sting of Mama’s barbed words. She was sad. How she wished Malomo’s father was alive today so that the girl’s problems could be jointly shared
All Mama Agba said about Malomo represented the truth. To some extent, they coud even be regarded as under-statement. The lady’s promiscuity had become worrisome to Iya Ibeji too. She could no longer turn a blind eye to the matter. And she tried ineffectively several times to prevail on her daughter to apply some moderation. But such appeal had fallen on deaf ears each time. The girl seemed to have submitted herself to the present circumstances without giving thought to the implications.

In spite of what Mama Agbas of this world may think or say however, no Yoruba man or woman can pretend not to know that you cannot afford to be high-handed with an abiku, a child who is born, dies at will, and comes back again. Till this day, Yorubas still go extra mile to appease an abiku to make him stop wreaking hardship on the unfortunate parents through a recurring circle of birth and death and make him stay permanently. This was particularly so in the case of Malomo who remained the only child now after several maternities by Iya Ibeji.

No, she could not afford to handle her roughly in the manner prescribed by the iyaloja who could boast of six living children and grandchildren. More than that, Malomo had recently assumed the role of the family’s breadwinner in circumstances that could rightly be described as inauspicious. And that too could not be waved aside unless one was not being realistic.

to be continued..