Abimbola, 56
Real names withheld for the purpose of privacy.
Disclaimer: WIPSI does not support or condone criminal activities in any capacity. Our mission is to ensure access to justice, fair punishment aligns with the severity of the crime as well as uphold the right to a fair trial while also working to educate those lacking access to justice and victims of ignorance, prioritising the wellbeing of society and the individuals involved.
Allow me to share a story about relationships, one that may not promise the clichéd “happily ever after” but assures you that the journey is indeed worthwhile. Among the myriad of relationships, there’s a special significance attributed to the mother-daughter bond—a connection often deemed unbreakable and formidable. From my vantage point, I witnessed the profound beauty that can blossom within this unique relationship, appreciating the remarkable evolution it can undergo over time.
In the vibrant tapestry of Nigeria, particularly within Ondo State, I find myself privy to a tale woven by individuals whose lives are intimately entwined. Although the specifics of my connection and role within their lives remain shrouded, rest assured, dear listener, that I am an adept storyteller ready to unfold a narrative that unfolds
Juliet, or Julie as we fondly called her, made a petite entrance into the world, a fragile blossom in our arms. Holding her, I felt the need for stillness, as if the simple act of movement might shatter her delicate frame. Her mother, Abimbola, a portrait of both love and worry, couldn’t help but shed tears when tucking her into bed. It wasn’t the usual cries that prompted these emotions but rather the rare quietude that surrounded her.
Every night, Abimbola transformed into a vigilant guardian, checking on her slumbering daughter every hour. Placing a gentle finger beneath Juliet’s nose became a ritual, a reassurance that the rhythmic dance of breath continued. In those silent moments, Juliet became more than a child; she became the living embodiment of her mother’s heartbeat, a delicate melody that played softly in the background of their lives.
As Julie blossomed into adolescence, her mother became her steadfast guide, imparting not just academic lessons but also instilling in her the essential manners owed to society, and the reciprocal expectations society held for her. It was however often said that her mom spoiled her rotten. Julie navigated the landscape of education, attending the best primary and secondary schools her parents’ hard-earned income could afford.
While she may not have been the academic frontrunner, Julie poured her heart into her studies, giving it her all. Unbeknownst to her parents, they were nurturing not just academic prowess but also fortifying her self-confidence and esteem. In a heartwarming tradition, irrespective of academic achievements, Julie’s parents made it a non-negotiable commitment to celebrate every prize-giving day with a family outing to savour a meal. These simple post-celebration rituals became a cornerstone, affirming not just Julie’s efforts but the unwavering support and love that surrounded her educational journey.
As Julie embarked on the exciting journey to university, a rite of passage awaited her in the form of “the talk” from her mother. This wasn’t the usual chat about academics or life lessons; instead, it was a candid conversation about the perils of university life, complete with warnings about the boys who might attempt to pluck her metaphorical “flower.” Julie couldn’t help but burst into laughter throughout the conversation, surprised by this unexpected shift in her mother’s tone.
Upon arriving at the university, the familiar rituals of parental care unfolded. Abimbola, like a meticulous architect, arranged every item in her hostel with precision, ensuring that her daughter’s new abode felt like a home away from home. From the perfectly made bed to the strategically placed textbooks, her mother’s touch was a comforting presence in this new chapter of Julie’s life.
As the final act of maternal devotion, Abimbola stocked Julie’s pantry with carefully chosen food, ensuring that she would have nourishment and a taste of home in her new surroundings. With a heart full of love and a hint of concern, she took her leave, leaving behind a daughter ready to embrace the adventures and challenges that university life had in store.
In the quaint corridors of Julie’s life, a timeless melody played: the sweet, reassuring sound of her mother’s voice checking in on her. Initially, Julie wore her title of “mummy’s girl” with pride, finding comfort in the unwavering connection they shared. However, the symphony took an unexpected turn when snippets of their conversations became unwitting fodder for her friends’ amusement.
The once unblemished joy of being a mummy’s girl became tainted by the judgmental whispers and teasing laughter of her peers. In the face of their ridicule, annoyance crept into Julie’s heart, a subtle but persistent change. The bond that once held an unshakable presence now felt like an unwanted spotlight, casting shadows of resentment that grew with each passing day.
The warmth of her mother’s check-ins now clashed with the cool breeze of peer pressure. In this tug-of-war between familial connection and the pursuit of societal acceptance, Julie’s journey unfolded, marked by the subtle but profound shifts in her perception of the once cherished “mummy’s girl” label.
In the intricate narrative of Julie’s life, I, the narrator, find myself grappling with the enigma of when and why the harmonious melody of her relationship with her mother hit a dissonant chord. The unsettling transformation became glaringly apparent when Julie returned home after graduating from the university.
Julie had developed a pattern of disappearing for days or even weeks at a time, only reemerging when she needed something from her mother. It was reminiscent of the prodigal son story, but in this case, there was no sign of repentance. This elusive behavior began during her time in school but became increasingly apparent when she started living in the same house as her mother. Each reappearance was accompanied by more unreasonable demands, yet Abimbola, true to her nurturing nature, consistently yielded to these requests.
Julie had disappeared for about a month this time and during that time, she had heard that her mum had started a business and that the business was doing well. She returned and this time, However, Julie’s demands were exorbitant, pushing her mother to make an uncharacteristic decision—she firmly said “NO.” The denial fueled Julie’s anger, sparking a heated confrontation between them. In the heat of the moment, Julie, in a moment of unparalleled vulnerability, had issued a threat to her mother — a promise to sow discord and make her life unbearable.
Initially dismissed as the heated rhetoric that often accompanies intense arguments, the ominous cloud of those words lingered. Today’s events painted a different picture, revealing that Julie’s threat was not merely a product of the moment but a foreboding glimpse into a profound shift in their once unbreakable bond. The narrative takes an unexpected turn, leaving the audience to ponder the mysterious unravelling of a relationship that had weathered so many chapters together.
In a shocking turn of events, Julie, driven by an unexplained bitterness, sowed seeds of discord in the community against her own mother. With accusations that her mother sponsored thieves and even possessed firearms. These allegations carried weight because the neighbourhood had been ravaged with a series of armed robberies. It also carried weight because, no one would ever think that a daughter would make such heavy allegations against her mother without there being some truth to it. She rallied the entire neighbourhood, imploring them to attack her mother.
The mention of firearms not only galvanised the community into action but also drew the attention of law enforcement. Julie’s mother found herself arrested, her home subjected to a thorough search by the police in their pursuit of the alleged weapons. To their dismay, no firearms were uncovered.
Days later, I found myself visiting Abimbola in prison. The weight of the situation was evident as they informed me that, to secure her release on bail, she needed at least two sureties from the very neighbourhood that had turned against her. She let me know that representatives from an organization named WIPSI (Women In Prison Support Initiative) came to hear her story and they are currently in the works of contacting her lawyer and helping her make bail.
