By Moyinoluwa Okunloye
I have never ceased to think about my Grandpa. He was wonderful, full of life and ever so generous. I may be biased because I am his favourite grand – child, but I think he was respected by many. He was a hardworker, never complained and I never saw him poor. Now, he didn’t have much in cash, but that was never a problem. He had reasonably large farmlands and he cultivated almost everything on his farms. We had little need for money because we grew everything edible on our farms. We never lacked food on the table and we had more than enough to sell to the community which made up for the little money that we needed to augment our already blessed life.
My Grandma is a lovely woman; a very industrious and generous dame. She wove Aso – Oke for sale and was vast in the making and selling of Dodo – nkua and Kuli – kuli, coupled with the sales of all her husband’s farm produce. I loved her work – ethics. She was particular about managing her husband’s household and income but was also considerate and generous with friends and families.
I never got to hear the story of how they met but I loved the way they expressed love to each other. They had separate bedrooms but they were inseparable. My Grandpa consulted my Grandma on most matters before making decisions and she in turn, treated him like a King every time (regardless of whether there were people around or it was just the two of them). Every morning, my Grandpa would come to the room and wake his wife up with greetings after which they briefed each other on their activities for the day. They teased themselves silently while I pretended to still be sleeping. They were best friends and gossip buddies.
Whenever Grandma was feeling ill, Grandpa would sneak into the room in the middle of the night and cuddle up beside her on the bed just so she could be warm. And even when Grandma over – hyped her sickness which sometimes was obvious, Grandpa played along and gave her the attention she wanted.
In an era where it was popular for men to ride their wives and treat them like slaves, their marriage was more of a partnership. They knew each other’s strength and they let each other thrive. They always spoke kindly and with respect to each other. My Grandpa would not cook and Grandma never expected him to. Theirs was an old – school kind of love but it was love all the same. Their understanding of each other might have stemmed out of years of investment and growth in the relationship, but they made the choice to invest and grow together.
They were genuinely happy with each other and wouldn’t go more than a few days without seeing each other; their children were usually forced to have both of them over at the same time. I love their love and I especially admire their wisdom and consideration for each other.
It’s been seven years since Grandpa died and I still remember him and the way he doted on the love of his life. I still am shocked that Grandma is alive till now, for we thought they would go only a few months apart from each other (just from how inseparable they were). But she is still here and she still talks about her prince charming. She still sees him and she still has a smile on her face when she talks about him.
Feature image by Benjo – Designs