Belema Briggs was known by many people and many names. Many called her Belle, some simply ‘The Snob’ and many others just referred to her as ‘Madame De Madame’ that moniker Nigerians often call married women in jest. Although no one really understood her, they all stood in agreement; the woman was impressive. Belema was best known by her daughters, of course, like begets like. The woman continued to mystify even their father but who could blame him? A woman’s soul is an abyss and when the windows to that abyss are darkened with kohl, who can fathom its depth?

“A real woman is delicate but not fragile, she is common only in dreams”. Mrs. Briggs’ often told her daughters. Mrs. Briggs somehow balanced an Amazonian fierceness with a delicateness and a distinctly elegant poise. Her daughters were consistently impressed by her ability to tackle numerous battles simultaneously, she successfully sent enemies to their tents, tails tucked neatly between hairy thighs. She emanated not a beauty from within, but a certain assurance that made those around her suspect strongly that the world belonged to her…and they were merely visitors on her planet.

Her children considered her an All Mighty Woman with powers exceeding the much celebrated Super Woman’s. This was especially so, given her ability to command them with her eyes alone and nary a sound escaping her, often scarlet-coated, lips.

As toddlers they suspected she was greater than God. He had to speak to get things done, Mommy didn’t.

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“Why do all mommies act the same Ale? Do you think mommy, aunty Tonbara and even Erica’s mommy all went to a school for mommies?” Biobele the last of Mrs. Briggs’ five daughters inquired of her older sister, her six year old face tightened in concentration.

Ale, mischievous pixie, carefully schooled her face into a mask of mock solemnity and answered little Bio. “Of course there is a school! It’s called the Nigerian Mothering College. There is one in in every single state and two in Abuja, because it’s so big of course. All mommies HAVE to go there, that’s why they all act the same!” At eleven, Ale was a demi-god to Biobele who was (quite happily) Ale’s minion, personal assistant, occasional stuntwoman and lifelong friend. Biobele swallowed her sister’s words hook, line and sailboat named Sinker.

Much later in life when Mr. Brigg’s little girls had settled into married life they would grow to understand that this ‘school’ was actually an immanent instinct present in most African mothers. This realization struck a pregnant Biobele at thirty-one, as the sisters sat gossiping in Ale’s kitchen one hot Saturday.

“Mommy, have you seen my football boots?!” Ale’s son Tega panted, tired out from searching for his property. With neither a blink nor discussion on Nigerian methods of addressing careless children, the two sisters hissed long and answered simultaneously.

“Yes I’ve seen it, it’s on my head where you left it!!” Mrs. Aleruchi Hart
“It is on your mother’s head where you left it!!” Mrs. Biobele Dimeji

As the two sisters burst into laughter, the frustrated seven year old stalked out of the kitchen silently stewing. He spent the rest of the afternoon searching for his boots, without his mother’s help. It is true what they say, “…the younger a person is, the closer he is to God”. Tega Hart must have received heavenly wisdom for he seemed to instinctively know that a failure to find his boots would result in the meting of a solid smack from his loving parent.

Smacking, an essential elective at the Nigerian Mothering College.

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Photo credit: http://danesh.shutterchance.com/photoblog/233129.htm