When Mama stopped going to the house of Uncle Femi for the first time, this was after the naming ceremony of the first son of Uncle Femi. Nobody knew why. At least, that is what she used to say whenever she discussed the subject.
I can recall that day very well. The dust was being blown through the compound by the harmattan wind and jollof rice was in the air. Most of the morning Mama had been humming, as she stirred up the large pot. However, once we reached the house of Uncle Femi all of that changed.
"Thank you, mama Bola, thank you," Auntie Risi, the wife of Uncle, smiled too sweetly. "You even brought food when we had already prepared some."
The manner Mama was smiling ought to have cautioned me that that something had gone amiss.
Ever since that day, things have grown cold. They ceased making calls between one another. They stopped visiting. Even during the Christmas when the entire family was seated, Mama and Uncle Femi greeted with closed lips and looked away.
Over the years the silence was gaining roots. Uncle got to the burial late when Papa died and Mama did not even set her eyes on him. It was made a family rule, never speak of "the feud."
However, all this changed in December last.
It was Mama's sixty birthday, and my sisters and I were ready to hold a small party in the compound. We invited everyone too, including the family of Uncle Femi, but Mama had advised, “No, bother. They won’t come.”
Still, they came.
I saw Uncle’s car first. As he parked by the gate, dust was stirred in the air. Auntie Risi went out with her gele gleaming in the sun like gold. Mama froze at the sight. I was aware of the strain between them like a rope.
"Oh, Mama Bola, happy birthday o," Uncle walked towards her.
Mama blinked. "Thank you," she said stiffly.
The air around us grew quiet. The children even ceased playing.
Then Auntie Risi took out a little wrapped thing. "We had a little something to give you," said she.
Mama paused, and then picked it up. It had a silver spoon in it, bright, plain, graceful. My sisters and I looked at each other. Mama was the only one who appeared to know what it meant.
She looked long over it, and then mentioned in a low voice, "You still recall."
Uncle smiled faintly. “How can I forget?”
In the evening when the guests had taken their departure and the lamps were low I used to sit out with Mama on the verandah. Her silver spoon was in her lap, and the lantern light caught it.
"Mama, what was it, what actually happened between you and Uncle?" I asked.
Her sigh was long and deep as though she had been waiting years to ask the question.
"This spoon" she began with, "Our mother presented it to me during his wedding." A family heirloom. In place of your brother, when he gets his first son, keep it, she said. "However, I had forgotten to bring it on the naming day. He thought I was being proud. I even imagined that his wife was mocking me over over-cooking. And passion since had separated us."
I looked at her, shocked. For all these years?... on account of that?
She smiled sadly. "At other times, what matters is not what happens. It’s how we let it grow.”
I would have said something, but she arose gradually and headed to the kitchen where Auntie Risi was assisting with the cleanup. I followed behind quietly.
"What did you want?" Mama Risi said. “Thank you for coming today.”
Auntie looked, much to her surprise, watery-eyed. Forced by your absence, "we have missed you," she said.
Mama put her hand on her and grinned. "On Sunday next we will go the same to lunch at your place."
And there, as though the house breathed a sigh of relief, some one thing or other in the air softened.
On that same night, I left the silver spoon on the table next to the birthday cake of Mama. It was not glittering much nowadays, but it seemed to me brighter than any other object with the room, the light which dawns upon a person after a long silence has been broken.
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STOPFamily feud can be so uncomfortable especially if it's between your parents and their siblings. I have seen how little conflict can ruin families. It's a nice story, very well written. Thanks for sharing.
A feud between families can be really bad, especially if it boils down to the upcoming generations too.
It's a good thing your mom settled with ur uncle.
Nice story
In a family, there are always conflicts and problems between members. I liked the part where you said it's not what happens that matters, but how much we let it grow. The truth is, we have the power to let it go or let it snowball. A very interesting story to read.
Thanks for sharing your story with us.
Excellent day.
The way a simple silver spoon becomes a symbol of pride, misunderstanding, and reconciliation is just brilliant. It’s amazing how small things can grow into walls between people — and how just one act of grace can tear those walls down. It's a reminder that sometimes forgiveness doesn’t need grand gestures, only humility and love.
What a touching story this is...
It's so obvious how years of misunderstandings can create drift/silence amongst loved ones.
And of a truth, pride and assumptions tends to do more harm than good.
Thanks for sharing such a beautiful piece.
❤️💯❤️