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Grandma Moniade

Grandma Moniade

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Published by: YorubaGyal GrownWoman on Jun 08, 2010
Copyright:Attribution Non-commercial


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Grandma Moniade The car drew up to her compound and I felt a sense of sheer anticipation, I had waited for

this experience all of my life – to meet my maternal grandmother. However, the circumstances surrounding this visit were tragic and very sad. At the age of 54, my mother had died and my siblings and I had decided that we would bury her in her beloved homeland. Memories of my grandmother were initially based on my mother's reminiscing. Through looking at and watching her photographs, I had established a link that would see me right through my childhood and up until her death. We entered the humid, gray and dank room that was my grandmother's, the room where she would have most probably nurtured all 3 of her children. Both of my grandmothers were 1st wives. There she sat; sunken and forlorn depleted in mourning. Her body was frail and she was shrunken so unlike the majestic majesty of the black and white photos where she sat with her aura as bright as the sun, her back as straight and as sure and confident. In her photos she was dressed in all of her west African regalia and I imagined the slight flicker of a smile on her lips were evocative of her authority of that of 1st wife. A mother, a wife, she sits knowing that she is looked upon with great responsibility as she gazes at the lens with awe her eyes with a deep and penetrating knowing. My grandma, the woman I admired through an image, a black and white almost sepia photograph. Yet from the moment I saw her sitting surrounded by family and neighbours who excitedly singled me out as 'definitely hers', we continued a relationship governed by deep and profound feelings of love through telepathy as grandma spoke no English. The timid and sad woman I witnessed physically that day for the first time, definitely remains my hero today. I miss YOU Nana, Madame Moniade Olagundoye nee Akinrinlude. Rest in Love Iyaagba! Yewande Ogunnaike 2008

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