My Grandma
Farewells are difficult.
From the day I was born, till the day she died, I never saw my grandmother’s real hair. Did she have an afro weaved into cornrows? Or did she have it relaxed and straight? The thing was, she always had a weave that was sewn into her hair, and I was never there when she took it off, or had it changed.
My grandmother always carried herself with pride like she was the advert on a billboard in time square new York, and not some old grandma living in Lagos, Nigeria. When I was younger, her style of clothing had the aura of an African American Sunday best in the 1960’s and I never saw her tie a rapper around her chest, not even to sit at home. Her pajamas were actual pajamas, and not some old clothes you just threw on because you needed to sleep. When she walked, she walked with grace in every step, her feet tipped first before relaxing. Had age not bent her a little, she would have had square shoulders and an upright chin to elevate the already present grace.
The high standard she held herself to, was the high standard she held everyone else she could directly influence to (me and my siblings). When we wore rumpled clothes, she’d tell us to go iron it or wear another thing. When we wore a bathroom slippers to step out of the house, she’d point it out and ask if you had nothing fancier to wear, and the gods forbid that she catches you tie a wrapper around your chest. She spoiled us with Christmas clothes and gifts so much that my parents didn’t need to get us any more. I remember that the first big boy bicycle we got was from her.
I still remember the day that the sickness which claimed her life began. She handled it gracefully too, although a little weak she still wanted to be present for the people she loved.
My grandmother was peculiar because she wasn’t meant to go to school. She had gotten a scholarship to study abroad, which she utilized. The thing was, girls did not go to school during her time as a girl. At that time, the worth of an average Nigerian woman was measured by how well she did basic chores and her marital status.
How did she manage to break out of this cycle of ignorance? She would take her brother’s to school and wait at the window to learn along with the males. A teacher noticed the eagerness of this particular young girl who chose to learn, even in uncomfortable situations and decided to take it up with my great grandpa.
We never really spoke about her past, or maybe it’s because I never asked but she had been handed the rough edge of life during her youth. She survived a marriage, a divorce and leaving her kids behind to further her education. Mercy was on her side and she came back for her kids.
I loved our time we spent together grandma, till next time.
Here’s to 30 days of writing without restraint.
Day 25/30
Till next time,
Love and light.
