The Joys of Motherhood Mortality Quotes

Her baby…her baby! Nnu Ego's arms involuntarily went to hold her aching breasts, more for assurance of her motherhood than to ease their weight. She felt the milk trickling out, wetting her buba blouse; and the other choking pain got heavier, nearing her throat, as if determined to squeeze the very life out of her there and then. But, unlike the milk, this pain could not come out, though it urged her on, and she was running, running away from it. Yet it was there inside her. There was only one way to rid herself of it. For how would she be able to face the world after what had happened? No, it was better not to try. It was best to end it all this way, the only good way. (1.4)

It is said that those about to die, be it by drowning or by a gradual terminal illness, use their last few moments of consciousness going through their life kaleidoscopically, and Nnu Ego was no exception. (1.9)

Ona went to do as she was told, thinking to herself how unfair it was that Agbadi should accuse her of having a heart of stone. How else could she behave since she could not marry him? Because her father had no sons, she had been dedicated to the gods to produce children in his name, not that of any husband. Oh, how torn she was between two men: she had to be loyal to her father, as well as to her lover Agbadi. (2.35)

Nnu Ego and her new husband Amatokwu were very happy; yet Nnu Ego was surprised that, as the months passed, she was failing everybody. There was no child…
"I am sure the fault is on my side. You do everything right. How can I face my father and tell him that I have failed? I don't like going there these days because his wives always rush out to greet me hoping that I am already carrying a child. You can see the disappointment on their faces" (3.33; 36)

But she was behaving in a curious way, almost as if she was doing some sort of acrobatic dance. Nwakusor wanted to look at closer quarters. He blasted the unceasing traffic, but his eyes never left the scene. He was extra careful after the shock he had earlier, not wishing to be knocked down just because he was going to look at a woman who was either mad or doing some kind of juju dance for her god. He was going to take his time. One shouldn't' be near death twice on the same morning.

His impatience was far from diminished as he saw from where he stood what the woman was actually trying to do. She was trying to jump into the lagoon! (5.16-17)

The child, a girl, was lifeless. She was dead.

Nnu Ego stared at the picture she made with her dead daughter in horror. She felt like crying, but at the same time did not want to. She felt the loss of this little piece of humanity, this unfortunate little thing she had carried while climbing up to Zabo market, this thing she knew was probably being hurt as she had bent defiantly down to wash clothes for her sons. Oh, poor baby, she thought. I am sorry you are not staying; I am also glad that God has seen fit to take you back….

Then she started to feel guilty. Had she wanted the child to die—was that the interpretation of the slight relief she had experienced when she crawled to he dead child to check what sex it was? That it was a girl had lessened her sense of loss. Oh, God, she did not wish it. She would have been happy to have the child. God, please don't let her thoughts torment her so. Please God, give her something to hold on to, some faith to assure her that she deliberately had not killed her own child in her heart. (16.50-52)

The arrival of her new twin daughters had a subduing effect upon Nnu Ego. She felt more inadequate than ever. Men—all they were interested in were male babies to keep their names going. But did not a woman have to bear the woman-child who would later bear the sons? "God, when will you create a woman who will be fulfilled in herself, a full human being, not anybody's appendage?" she prayed desperately. "After all, I was born alone, and I shall die alone. What have I gained from all this? Yes, I have many children, but what do I have to feed them on? On my life. I have to work myself to the bone to look after them, I have to give them my all. And if I am lucky enough to die in peace, I even have to give them my soul. They will worship my dead spirit to provide for them: it will be hailed as a good spirit so long as there are plenty of yams and children in the family, but if anything should go wrong, if a young wife does not conceive or there is a famine, my dead spirit will be blamed. When will I be free?"

But even in her confusion she knew the answer: "Never, not even in deaths. I am a prisoner of my own flesh and blood. Is it such an enviable position? The men make it look as if we must aspire for children or die. That's why when I lost y first son I wanted to die, because I failed to live up to the standard expected of me by the males in my life, my father and my husband—and now I have to include my sons. But who made the law that we should not hope in our daughters? We women subscribe to that law more than anyone. Until we change all this, it is still a man's world, which women will always help to build." (15.152-153)

By the mid-fifties Nnaife knew that even if it was not time for him to go finally to his Maker, it was high time he moved nearer. For generations the Owulums had been laid to rest in their corner of Ibuza, Idum-ohene, and he had been hoping one day to go back there; he had not consulted the rest of his family, for as far as he was concerned he was the family. He was looking forward to when Oshia left school and took over earning for the family; then he, Nnaife, would not longer have to work and would lead a life of indolence and ease, drinking palm wine with his friends…(17.1)

Nnaife pointed out to her that the children were her children. "Will they remember me when I am old? No, they will remember only their mother. And have you not noticed that women stay longer than men on this earth? So why should I give up my day's work for a son who has spat in my face?" (17.45)

When her children heard of her sudden death they all, even Oshia, came home. They were all sorry she had died before they were in a position to give their mother a good life. She had the noisiest and most costly second burial Ibuza had ever seen, and a shrine was made in her name, so that her grandchildren could appeal to her should they be barren.

Stories afterwards, however, said that Nnu Ego was a wicked woman even in death because, however many people appealed to her to make women fertile, she never did. Poor Nnu Ego, even in death she had no peace! Still, many agreed that she had given all to her children. The joy of being a mother was the joy of giving all to your children, they said.

And her reward? Did she not have the greatest funeral Ibuza had never seen? It took Oshia three years to pay off the money he had borrowed to show the world what a good son he was. That was why people failed to understand why she did not answer their prayers, for what else could a woman want but to have sons who would give her a decent burial? (18.119-121)