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- Story Listed as: True Life For Adults
- Theme: Mystery
- Subject: Poems & Songs
- Published: 05/01/2020
Mama You're the Enemy
Born 1990, M, from Lagos, NigeriaI remember a certain glass vase
stuffed with colourful hibiscus
ravishing and riveting
“don’t touch this vase,
I starved to buy it”
mama would always warn.
But I was just ‘five’
curious,
adventurous,
dexterous.
One day, Mama returned from daily hustles,
met the glass vase in fragments.
An unintentional booboo.
Spurred by ingenious curiosity.
It broke mama’s heart.
Mama yelled.
Grinding her teeth and snarling under gruesome breaths.
“May your children ever disobey you!”
She raved, saying more vile things I can’t remember now.
At night,
mama washed my feet and body, clothed, and fed me.
The broken vase didn’t break our bond.
She sang me evensongs of the moon and little stars.
She told me success stories of our great-grandfathers,
and at night she dreamt of my Grande future.
Oh, how I love mama.
Days and weeks faded,
and the broken vase along with them.
But I remained stubborn and adventurous.
Mama swept,
scrubbed,
and redecorated.
We were expecting august visitors that day.
“Please my son,
Be of good behaviour,” she commanded.
I pledged my allegiance to her,
I tried keeping our pact,
but then inspiration struck like a thunderbolt.
My curious fingers irked,
urging me to nourish my ingenuity.
I whisked myself to business.
I gathered sand, water and wood.
“I must cook mama a pleasant surprise today”
I’d said to myself
as I made the fire in space.
I made Eba and Okra soup, in space too.
Hmm…
Yummy!
Time to dish.
I found the base of the broken vase.
I also picked a broken rubber platter.
One for soup, the other for ‘Eba’
I dashed to the spackling living room.
I thought mama would need more food for the coming guests.
But I never thought my soup would be leaking.
I never thought the glass vase would slip again, either.
Mama returned, hoping she’d find me where she left me.
Hoping I’d kept my promise.
But she found a heap of sand and shards of glass.
Oh…
Hell was let loose!
“What have you done?
They have sent you to kill me?
Destructive child!
Good for nothing child!
Never do well!
I won't be well with you!
Your children will do the same to you!
Useless child!”
She raved thunder and lightning,
and deafened me with countless curses.
I wondered why she didn’t notice I was only expressing my love.
Mama even cursed a thousand times more, after, often.
Even as I embraced puberty,
and raced through the university.
Thirty years into the future,
failed job interviews upon failed interviews.
Always among the rejected few
I opted to learn a trade.
“Not everyone was destined for white collar jobs”
I’d consoled myself.
Two weeks to my valediction,
my master choked on his breakfast,
his very last breakfast.
Mama wouldn’t accept defeat;
she won’t let my future die with my master.
Mama emptied her jewellery chest,
she sold off her wrappers,
she borrowed more money from family and friends.
I ventured into my master’s trade.
But then another long story—
something led to another,
fire from nowhere guzzled the market,
and my fortunes along.
Mama won’t stop casting and binding her enemies:
Demons and humans alike.
She goes from prayer-house to prayer-house,
warning her enemies to leave her son.
Mama, there’s only one enemy.
You are the enemy!
Yes, mama!
You are the enemy!
Mama You're the Enemy(Darlington Chukwunyere)
I remember a certain glass vase
stuffed with colourful hibiscus
ravishing and riveting
“don’t touch this vase,
I starved to buy it”
mama would always warn.
But I was just ‘five’
curious,
adventurous,
dexterous.
One day, Mama returned from daily hustles,
met the glass vase in fragments.
An unintentional booboo.
Spurred by ingenious curiosity.
It broke mama’s heart.
Mama yelled.
Grinding her teeth and snarling under gruesome breaths.
“May your children ever disobey you!”
She raved, saying more vile things I can’t remember now.
At night,
mama washed my feet and body, clothed, and fed me.
The broken vase didn’t break our bond.
She sang me evensongs of the moon and little stars.
She told me success stories of our great-grandfathers,
and at night she dreamt of my Grande future.
Oh, how I love mama.
Days and weeks faded,
and the broken vase along with them.
But I remained stubborn and adventurous.
Mama swept,
scrubbed,
and redecorated.
We were expecting august visitors that day.
“Please my son,
Be of good behaviour,” she commanded.
I pledged my allegiance to her,
I tried keeping our pact,
but then inspiration struck like a thunderbolt.
My curious fingers irked,
urging me to nourish my ingenuity.
I whisked myself to business.
I gathered sand, water and wood.
“I must cook mama a pleasant surprise today”
I’d said to myself
as I made the fire in space.
I made Eba and Okra soup, in space too.
Hmm…
Yummy!
Time to dish.
I found the base of the broken vase.
I also picked a broken rubber platter.
One for soup, the other for ‘Eba’
I dashed to the spackling living room.
I thought mama would need more food for the coming guests.
But I never thought my soup would be leaking.
I never thought the glass vase would slip again, either.
Mama returned, hoping she’d find me where she left me.
Hoping I’d kept my promise.
But she found a heap of sand and shards of glass.
Oh…
Hell was let loose!
“What have you done?
They have sent you to kill me?
Destructive child!
Good for nothing child!
Never do well!
I won't be well with you!
Your children will do the same to you!
Useless child!”
She raved thunder and lightning,
and deafened me with countless curses.
I wondered why she didn’t notice I was only expressing my love.
Mama even cursed a thousand times more, after, often.
Even as I embraced puberty,
and raced through the university.
Thirty years into the future,
failed job interviews upon failed interviews.
Always among the rejected few
I opted to learn a trade.
“Not everyone was destined for white collar jobs”
I’d consoled myself.
Two weeks to my valediction,
my master choked on his breakfast,
his very last breakfast.
Mama wouldn’t accept defeat;
she won’t let my future die with my master.
Mama emptied her jewellery chest,
she sold off her wrappers,
she borrowed more money from family and friends.
I ventured into my master’s trade.
But then another long story—
something led to another,
fire from nowhere guzzled the market,
and my fortunes along.
Mama won’t stop casting and binding her enemies:
Demons and humans alike.
She goes from prayer-house to prayer-house,
warning her enemies to leave her son.
Mama, there’s only one enemy.
You are the enemy!
Yes, mama!
You are the enemy!
- Share this story on
- 4
Dante Imosun
05/12/2020This days I look for happy ending stories. But then, this one deserves to be read even though it made me sad.
I would have called my mama for serious blessings now, because I was so so stubborn as a child.
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Darlington Chukwunyere
05/13/2020All stories may not end on a happy or comic note. But there's happiness eventually, when they give us the much needed satisfaction... still, a win-win.
I was stubborn too. But mama did more of blessing (laughs).
Thanks for connecting with this one, again.
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Eve
05/06/2020Some parents are so guilty of this. (So sad). Sad! There sure is power in spoken words.
ReplyHelp Us Understand What's Happening
Help Us Understand What's Happening
Darlington Chukwunyere
05/07/2020Yes Eve, there's power in words of mouth. Thank you, for the kind feedback.
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JD
05/06/2020Moving and hearbreaking story of how a Mother's failings can harm her children for life. I hope this was not your own story and upbringing, Darlington? If so I hope that writing it down will help to heal the scars. Thank you for sharing your story on Storystar.
ReplyHelp Us Understand What's Happening
Noha
05/02/2020actually i feel the same way but then only accuse yourself they hurt but they try to repair what they've done but the curses remain the same cause they cant change a thing anyway i apreciate your story and love the feeling expreced through words your good :D
ReplyHelp Us Understand What's Happening
Help Us Understand What's Happening
Cam Rascoe
05/02/2020As parents our words often shape our children, they become what we say they are. If we tell them they are bad or awful sometimes they begin to behave that way because that is what we have led them to believe they are. If we encourage our children with heartening words they are far more prone to be successful in life because we have empowered them with a great belief in themselves. Thank you Darlington.
ReplyHelp Us Understand What's Happening
Darlington Chukwunyere
05/02/2020I can relate to a good number of persons here who were stubborn while growing up and they're mothers kept hipping out the curses...
So sad they might not read this (lolz).
But I'm glad someone got the message clearly. Thanks again, for finding time to read.
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Help Us Understand What's Happening
Gail Moore
05/01/2020Love what's unsaid with your words, Sometimes mothers can do to much for their children, sometimes mothers do say the wrong things. These little things can have an impact for a life time.
Because sometimes my mother said the wrong things to me, it was a lesson not to do it with my own children.
Great story :-)
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Darlington Chukwunyere
05/01/2020Yes, Gail. Sometimes, innocently, mother's sentence their children to hard conditions just by spoken words.
COMMENTS (7)