Dorothy Egbe Ako Anaba

Friday, April 22, 2021 By Elvis Etah, Son. Simply Remarkable!!! (Part 1 of 2) As you know by now, my mother succumbed to cancer on April 2nd, 2021, a day Christians call “good Friday.” That is not a punch line as my mother was a Christian, albeit a moderate one. When I learned of my mother's diagnosis, I wrestled with hope and reality. Hope wanted my mother to beat this current disease; after all, we had plenty of evidence that mom was indestructible: five births, several surgeries, and hospitalizations, all kinds of fever, vitiligo, etc. She survived them all. There was also the fact that her mother died at over 86 years old! Reality, on the other, had undisputable data for me: everyone dies, cancer has killed my friends, my cousin, and even my wife. My mother had terminal cancer, and she was going to die. So, I prepared for the inevitable pain. I cried. I told my siblings it was a matter of days until mom is no more. I especially wanted my youngest sister to be prepared, although nothing prepares you. When the call came in, I knew exactly what it was: our mother’s journey had ended. It was painful; it is painful. One of life’s certainties was once again playing out: separation is a guarantee. Let me set aside my grief and tell you about my mother. Several people will tell you that my mom was a gatherer of people. Others will stress her kindness, calm and compassionate demeanor. Some would say she was a smart leader. They are all right. My mother was all that and more. Of course, you cannot do justice to a life lived over seventy years in a one or two-page summary, so I’ll tell you about the lever that my mother was. The simple definition of a lever is “a rigid bar resting on a pivot, used to help move a heavy or firmly fixed load with one end when pressure is applied to the other.” What I want you to retain from this definition is that a lever is “used to help move a heavy load.” It is used to help. Help. That’s what mom was for the whole family, and I am not embellishing as we often do when people die. For us, her children, our mother's help was the expectation. I'll let every family member speak for themselves about how mom helped them leverage a difficult situation or heavy load. When we lived in Melen, a neighborhood in Yaoundé with my aunt, Elizabeth, and several times we could not make ends meet, my mother was always the resource we needed to negotiate the end of the month. You know what that means. When a friend needed medication, and I did not have the money to buy it, I would go to my mother. Another friend did not have the money to register and sit for a competitive exam. Mom stepped in. Today that friend is gainfully employed, not because my mother put them there; let’s be clear about that. It is because my mother was the lever that helped them surmount a temporary financial obstacle. I remember going to my mother and telling her that I would be renting by myself and not splitting the rent with a friend as I initially planned. That would mean that mom would spend more money. My mother’s response was simple: “He is also my son.” So were all my friends. If you were the friend of any of my siblings or anyone my mother knew, she embraced you. Does a child need to go to school? Does someone need a piece of equipment? Is somebody sick? Superhero mom came to their rescue. No, superheroes are not the fantasies we are fed on a rectangular screen. They are real people like my mom, my sister, my aunt, your family members too. These are unforgettable and selfless people who would give you their only coat and shiver in the cold. Those are my heroes. As a community organizer, my mother’s calm demeanor was a source of tranquility and serenity for many people. She served in various capacities because she exuded confidence, intelligence, and assiduity. Yes, I said intelligence. My mother did not complete secondary school. She got pregnant in form 3 or 4 (about 9th grade) while at PSS BesongAbang. If you are smart and knew my mother, you would understand that intelligence is not a function of your IQ or what you know, for that matter, but what you do with what you know. My mother knew that for her to be successful, her siblings, her children, and everyone around her must be successful as well. You don't leave family behind when you can do something for them. The things I am telling you now, I have told my mother. I told her how much I loved her whenever we said goodbye over the phone. I said it when my mom was well and when she was sick. As her first child, I have the privilege to have spent the most time with my mother. My mother was there when my first child took her first breath. I named her Egbe after my mother because it was the honorable thing to do. I told you that my mom and I loved each other, but there were times when we did not see eye-to-eye on certain matters. Although mom was calm, she was assertive. So, we clashed occasionally. I was right some of those times, and my mom would, and this is the thing that makes her remarkable, admit to me that she was mistaken. On religion, there was no compromise. Although my mom was not particularly fond of those, who exploit others' faith, she held on to her belief in her God. On my part, I hold no superstitious beliefs, and I appreciated the fact that my mother never proselytized to me, although I know she secretly prayed for me to be "saved." She respected my views, did not share all of them, but in the end, she trusted me to make the right decision for myself.