When I came home on Saturday, August 31, 2024 to meet my wife, Chioma, lying on the bed with bloodshot eyes, I was alarmed. When I asked what the problem was, she retorted: “Check your phone.” She accuses me of bad telephone etiquette – not reading text messages and responding timeously – with a warning that if I don’t change, sooner than later, I would miss out on an information that needed urgent attention. From the tone of her voice, I had a hunch that foretold the day may have come.

I quickly checked my phone and froze. “My mother is no more,” was her pithy message at exactly 4.01pm, more than five hours before I came back. I was shocked because we had spoken to the old woman the previous day and she was not only in high spirit but also, typically, prayed for everyone. There was no premonition whatsoever which explains why the news hit me like a thunderbolt, even when we all knew that at her age, she was at life’s departure lounge.

Born on January 21, 1929, my mother-in-law, affectionately called Nmaekwuahu because of her breath-taking beauty, was blessed with longevity in very good health. Throw into the mix the fact that she is survived by eight children, 35 grandchildren and 41 great grandchildren who doted on her till the very end, her blessings were extraordinary.

The only daughter of her parents, her enthralling beauty ensured that she was not only the darling of her parents and doting male siblings, but also the cynosure of all eyes in her Onicha community and beyond. It was, therefore, not surprising that suitors started knocking on her parents’ doors early. But she gave none consent until an equally handsome young man, Raymond Anyanwu Okahia, from neighbouring Eziudo community came along.

She was not quite ready for marriage at the time, because as she recalled: “I was too young to marry, still climbing trees but I was told that I would learn from my new home.” And, indeed, she learnt a great deal in her new home after her wedding on May 11, 1949 at the Catholic Mission Ahiara, a Eucharistic ceremony officiated by Rev. Fr. Edward Darcy.

Ndigbo have a saying that every mother’s delicacy is the most delicious to her children. But when I say that Ezinne Eunice Egowure was a mother-in-law like no other, it is not in that sense. It is a statement of fact. She was an extraordinary being in every sense. Though she didn’t acquire formal education, something she regretted, her knowledge of prevailing issues was profound. But even at that, she once vowed to me: “In my next life, I will read everything there is to read.” But to make up for the vacuum which she insisted the lack of formal education created in her life, she and her husband ensured that their children acquired as much formal education as they wished.

Beyond that, Mama embodied all the values that defined womanhood in the classical sense: she was virtuous, extremely devoted to her husband all through her lifetime; compassionate with overflowing milk of human kindness and carried herself with unparalleled dignity. Her native intelligence, sense of humour, warmth and infectious smile made her a natural leader. But she was also a very resolute, assertive and firm person, who never sacrificed honesty and integrity on the altar of wayward exigencies.

As at the time the husband died in 2011, they had lived together for 62 years and true to the advice that she would learn a lot in her new home, Mama had learnt quite a great deal in those values that make for a successful married life – communication, compromise and commitment – making her a marriage lodestar of sorts. For over six decades, she was a devoted wife, who, in an uncanny sense, was also modern in her ways. Long before it became a fad for women to join their husband’s names to their marital names, she boldly inserted her husband’s first name, Anyanwu, into the family name, Okahia, hence Ezinne Egowure Anyanwu-Okahia.

She was a quintessential marriage counsellor, always inundating intending couples on the principles of nurturing their fondness and admiration, always turning toward each other, letting their spouse influence them, solving their solvable problems, overcoming gridlock and creating a shared sense of meaning.

As a son-in-law, I am a beneficiary. When I married her daughter, she gave her an invaluable advice on how to ensure that the integrity of her marital home remained inviolable, an advice which Chioma divulged to me inadvertently. I was very grateful to the old woman, knowing that she had handed me, to borrow a cliché, her daughter’s “mumu button.” Ever since, whenever my wife was inclined to “misbehaving,” all I needed do to dissuade her was a casual reminder of her mom’s counsel, to which she will retort with a frown: “Because I told you, I will never tell you anything again.” But seconds later, she will behave accordingly.

I will forever remember my mother-in-law with affection. Ever since I went to her home to seek her daughter’s hand in marriage in 2002, Mama showered me with undiluted love. Chioma, whom she affectionately called Nwa God was her adorable last child and I was her son-in-law who could do no wrong. I will always cherish the four-hour discussion I had with her in her son’s Texas home in 2010. She was vacationing in the U.S. at a time I was attending the annual Mbaise convention and I went to see her in Dr Linus Okahia, her first son’s home in Dallas. She let me into secrets I will share with no one else.

Though unlettered, she was, nevertheless, a community and church leader who everyone looked up to for guidance. Even in her old age when she was no longer able to attend community and church engagements as she used to, most of those meetings were hosted in her home.

Her love for the underprivileged was incomparable. She was generous to a fault and constructed such an ennobling support system that became part of the community’s social architecture. A fantastic cook, nobody ever left her house hungry and nothing offended her more than rejecting her offer of food.

Because most of her children and grandchildren live in the Diaspora, her interment has been slated for January 3, 2025 when most of them will be around to pay their last respects to the matriarch of the Okahia family, a woman who was not only physically beautiful and elegant but radiated warmth, love and kindness from inside.

Even at 95, her death hurts and I will miss her dearly. But I am not mourning. She lived a good life and impacted positively on all who had the good fortune of making her acquaintance. In death, her memory is already a blessing. I am not mourning, knowing full well that she is already resting in the bosom of her creator because my mother-in-law, through her exemplary life, echoed St. Paul’s testimony in 2 Timothy 4:6-8 thus: “I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith. Now there is in store for me the crown of righteousness, which the Lord, the righteous Judge, will award to me on that day.” 

As we prepare to bid her final farewell, Ezinne Eunice Egowure Anyanwu-Okahia, nee Osuagwu-Onuoha, was, indeed, a mother-in-law like no other. She was a good woman. May her soul rest in peace.