Mother Josephine Anichukwu: And My Mama Departs in a Blaze of Glory

                 Uche Anichukwu

O proud daughter of the Irokos,

Woman of no mean linage,

Cub of the tigers and tigresses,

The intoxicating beauty of her time,

Beauty that dizzied the heads of men,

Though thou art robbed by time and toil

And though no longer art thou

That tall, fresh, provocative frame,

Which we knew and heard of,

Your today reflects your yesterday,

For beyond that seemingly tired figure

Lies a tigress and man-woman

Strong of will, defiant and resilient,

That rather cows than be cowed by odds;

That stood against the windstorms of life,

But remained afloat on life’s ocean;

That sailed roughshod against tempests

On life’s ocean, and never sank;

That wrestled malevolent spirits and flesh

And always the victor became.

Lowly river that receives

Homage of a million mountain streams.

Thou art the pride of womanhood,

The mountain among the hills,

A rare, loving, sweet mother thou art.

What hath thou found too great to sacrifice?

Pleasure, time, sleep or cowries?

Thou art never wearied of finding and giving

And your knees always bruised in prayers

Thou art the sweetest of mothers born.

Ipenned the above poem to celebrate the sacrifice, heroism, and resilience of my mother, the late Senior Mother-in-Israel Josephine Mgborie Anichukwu, after my national youth service over two decades ago and this poem kept coming back to me as we prepared for her interment last weekend, February 22, 2025. Indeed, to be birthed and raised by our dear father, the late Rabbi (Chief) Gabriel Nworie Anichukwu (Nnabuenyi) and our mother, both teachers, remains the greatest blessing God bestowed on me and my siblings. They both brought their unique attributes to bear on our upbringing. Epitomes of rectitude, they always reminded us that we were teachers’ children.

Mama was not just any mother, but a special one in all ramifications. She was a no-nonsense woman and a disciplinarian of the strictest order. The tone with which she called readily told you whether all was well or not. When you wailed that you were dying from her cane therapies, she would retort that it was better than turning out a reprobate adult. The first time I bought her gifts (normal ear rings) from my farm enterprise as a college student, she constituted herself into a one-man panel before she accepted them.

Our mother loathed any appearance of weakness. Together with her husband, a headmaster, she tried to imbue in their children humility without timidity, planting a calm storm in each of us. It was a taboo to disrespect anyone. And you must not fight. But if you must, then you better ensure you emerged the victor. You dared not sob to the house, even if a much older child tried to bully you. Mama believed that you should be able to defend yourself. Otherwise, she would normally ask you if she had been feeding you with sand and would get the beating of your life for being a weakling.

As children, mother created a roaster for manning her shop located in front of her father’s compound at Amagu Ishienu, across the river. You closed between 9:30pm and 10pm and still toddled a relatively long way home. Holding a lantern, you walked alone through the pathway amidst bushes and past Ukwu Ofo (debarium elastica tree) where we were told that spirits (umu mmuo) lived and milled around. Then, you would cross the railway bridge over Nvuna River. At the peak of the rainy season, Nvuna usually overflowed its banks and roared against the pillars of the bridge. The moonlight or flickers of lightening made it appear as though you were walking in the middle of an angry ocean.

As children also, when Nvuna River rose in volume, she would first swim past to drop our farm baskets, then swim back again and again to cross each of us on her back. She would tell us that Nvuna would never drown an Amagu son or daughter and that we were sons and daughters of Amagu by extension. Amagu, my mother’s village, produces the chief priest of Nvuna river. We are Obinagu, but Ndigbo have a saying that the birthplace of a person’s mother is also where the person could have as well been born. As adults, it is not unusual to shudder at such high risks sometimes, but they helped in driving fear from our beings and grooming our mentality to never respect obstacles.   

Senior Mother Anichukwu was hard work personified. She hated laziness. In those days, she would normally wake us up between 4:30am and 5am, saying it was already midday. We normally set forth to farm while the day broke, but were always the last to leave the farm. She was very enterprising and hardworking even till her last days. All our pleading that she should stop farming fell on deaf ears. Besides the fact that the proceeds from agriculture saw us through school, we gained a sense of industry and tenacity.

Again, we could not have prayed for a more sacrificial mother. She gave her all and more, just to ensure that her children succeeded in life. when I passed my WAEC and JAMB examinations in 1993, ESUT had just increased the school fees to about N4,000 (Four thousand naira only). It was very tough raising such money in those days. Dad had just retired as a headmaster. A relation suggested that I could actually retake JAMB since I made it in my first attempt, a proposal my mother outrightly rejected. She said she would rather sell her entire wrappers than buy that suggestion. Both father and mother went to work, and ultimately, I was able to pay before the matriculation.

The most challenging period was after the death of our father in October 1995. I had just finished writing my second semester, first year examination in the university. There was just no hope. But my mother assured us that none of us would drop out of school. She literally overworked herself, ignoring her personal welfare. Till date, I am still unable to dislodge from my mind the image of my emaciated Mama wearing a small piece of white gown for the one whole year that she mourned our father – not because she could not afford full white wrappers from her salaries as planned, but because she prioritised our education and welfare above everything else.

Growing up partially in Calabar and Enugu where she lived with her late elder brother, Chief Sondé Nwanvu Anyianuka, a successful Quantity Surveyor, an illustrious son of Nkanuland and politician, my mother was a bit exposed to politics early in her life. Importantly, she was fearless. When I made known my intention to run for the Councillorship seat of Nomeh Ward in 2002, many relations besieged our home, expressing concerns over my safety. Her two elder sisters, Uzoamaka and Christiana (both late now), came crying and begging her to stop me. But she insisted that I was already a man, a graduate, and would not return to her womb.

I was in that race until our elders appealed to me to step down for people from another division of Nomeh.  But that venture proved fortuitous both for me and Nomeh Unateze community, leading to a chain of events that lifted me and my community. Chief among them is the ongoing Nenwe-Nomeh-Mburumbu-Nara Road (with a spur to Oduma), a federal project facilitated by my former principal, His Excellency, Senator Ike Ekweremadu, CFR (Ikeoha Ndigbo) and which my current principal, the Disruptive Innovator, and Governor of Enugu State, His Excellency, Dr. Peter Mbah, has already flagged-off for completion in line with his infrastructural transformation crusade across the state. The construction of road to Nomeh, with its far-reaching economic and social impacts, is an eternal tribute to the memories of my late parents, for without God’s grace and their sacrifices, I would not have had the opportunity to function at the level that made this happen. Till her death, Mama would usually dance and hype over the road.

I will forever cherish her fearlessness, even in the face of gravest danger. In fact, she did not even fear death. Before departing Nomeh for her medical care, she had the premonition that the hour had come, and she prepared herself for it.

It is, therefore, so heartwarming that friends and relations across the world, the Church, and His Excellency and my boss, Governor Peter Mbah, who was also in Nomeh in person, all rallied round us to ensure that she exited triumphantly and in a blaze of glory as deserved. My mother that I know could not have wished for more. We can never thank them enough.

Nature too was not left out in testing to the great woman that she was, as Nomeh Unateze experienced the first rain of the year 2025 that same evening, soon after she was sown back to mother earth. It is very symbolic by Igbo traditions. Thus, all said, Mama deserves to be celebrated, not mourned.

Madam Energy, work was food to you;

Enterprise was in your bloodstream,

Teacher, disciplinarian par excellence.

My fearless Lion, woman of valour,

Braver than 10 lions.

My prayer warrior, the indefatigable fighter.

Cat with 10 lives

Death did not conquer you.

Even Death and evil spirits dreaded you.

You’ve only gone the way of all mortals.

Your time simply came and you went to be with the Lord.

Your legacies have immortalised you.

My sweet mother, you vanquished Death.

At your funerals, I chose to dance, not mourn

For you overcame, and triumphantly you returned.

Chibuzo, Chidera (you called her Ogbom) bid you farewell;

Mmaduabuchi (Chimuanya) and Osy Power bid you goodnight.

Surely, life will never be the same without you,

But you vowed to watch over us in life and in death.

Rest in peace, Nnem

Ogwene, Ada Nwankwo Anuka Orji

Ada Anuka Enyi,

Ada Njoku Ekwe,

Atu egwu,

Agu Nwanyi,

Nkenke enyi na-achu igwe enyi oso,

Nwanyi na ibe ya ra bu n’onu.

Mama, I’ll love you till eternity.

Obodo gbara onwe, ochighi echi

Ya diba.

Anichukwu writes from Enugu