To my maternal grandmother who's glorious burial was last week. Here's a bit of what I wrote on my side of the tribute column. "I was told I gave her a serious time as an infant, That I jumped and bounced up n down in excitement when she carried me on her back. I was told I screamed and cried mouth wide when I was hungry n she would call my mother's name from the house to the office close by saying "Alaba! Wá mú díè kó ooo! " Meaning come and give him some (Breastmilk that is)
I remember the times she cooked rice for little me and Dammi and we complained that it was too soft and not thin and hard like "tush rice" or the days when she cooked amala and Ewédú soup and I would cry again saying "mi ò fé obè dúdú, mi ò fé obè dúdú" (meaning I didn't want black soup). I grew up to love that soup.
I remember the days we played the game called Ludo and watched the movie Sound of Music. She was fun like that.
I can never forget mama's prayers. Mama always prayed for everybody. Our family and all her children their families and her friends. She was a woman of prayer. There were days when Dammi and I were still really young we couldn't stay to witness the end of her prayers during our morning prayers.
After I had prayed and Dammi had prayed, mama's prayer would go on and on till we would both eventually sneak out to mum and dad's room "mama's prayer is too long" we would say. She made the work of the ministry easier for my parents as they traveled leaving little me Dammi and Dara in her care. A great helper and grandmother to so many children. A rugged spiritual fighter and peace keeper. We miss you and looking forward to the day we see you in heaven.
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