*Amaka, (26) was content with her role as first daughter to her parents and big sister to her three younger siblings. But after losing both of her parents within a year, she had to learn how to become the head of the house while also protecting her siblings from leeching family members.
This is Amaka’s story, as told to Itohan
When people ask what I define as couple goals, I always think of my parents. They didn’t just love and care for each other, they genuinely liked each other. You could see it in the way they planned our family life.
After they had me, they waited six years before having my younger sister. Four years later, they had my second sister, and by the time I was 15, they had my brother, the last born. I remember asking them why they spaced us out so much, and my mum said it was because they wanted to make sure they had enough money, time, and attention to offer each child. When they felt they could handle another child, they went for it. Growing up, they never made decisions alone. You couldn’t get my mum to agree to something if dad had already said no. They were a team in all the ways that mattered. That’s why when my mother fell ill, I knew my dad wouldn’t last long without her.
She was diagnosed with ovarian cancer in February of 2022. She had been complaining about stomach pain, and my dad and I kept begging her to go to the hospital. Ever since I was a little girl, my mum had always avoided hospitals; bitter leaf and bitter kola were her go-to remedies for everything. When she eventually decided to get tested, I knew it was really bad.
It took several tests before they discovered it was cancer, and by then, it was already advanced. My siblings were so young, and I had to be the one to tell them. My d ad could not mention her name without breaking down. I had to be strong for everyone in the house, including my dad. I had just finished NYSC and was transitioning between careers, all while splitting hospital shifts with my dad. Sometimes, I’d shower in her hospital room because I was heading straight to work. I was stressed, but there was nothing I could do. I was the first child, and I loved my mum. I wished I had someone to talk to. My dad became a shadow of himself. My younger sister was 18 and in university, the third was still in secondary school, and the last born was in primary school. I felt alone, and that feeling lasted throughout her hospital admission.
She passed on a weekend in April of 2023. We were all in the hospital with her. My dad was singing her favourite hymn, she liked it but was unresponsive as usual. However, as the hymn ended, she whispered, “I love you all,” and passed. It was the first thing she’d said in days. I like to believe she wanted us to hear how she felt about us and say goodbye.
That was the day the spark left my dad’s eyes. Leading up to her burial, he did not speak to anyone. He spent most of his time alone in his room, in tears. I had to console my siblings and plan the funeral because he was too heartbroken. When he passed in August, I was not surprised. He was not sick, he was not in the hospital, he just went to bed and didn’t wake up. I found him lying next to a picture of my mum. My siblings screamed and cried endlessly, but me? I didn’t shed a tear. I think I had already done most of my grieving while watching my mum die, and deep down, I think I was preparing for my dad’s death too. I had just turned 25 in June, and suddenly, I was an orphan responsible for three children.
Planning his funeral felt a bit funny because I had used the same vendors from my mum’s burial, so they gave me a lot of discounts. I could tell they pitied me, and honestly, I pitied myself too, but I just kept repeating, “Get through this, then you can move on with your life.” Maybe, finally afford myself the grace to breakdown and cry like I know my body and soul needed, but I was so wrong. After the burial, new problems surfaced.
My parents had done well financially. They could afford to send us to private universities, and they had a couple landed properties scattered around the country. Plus, from the brief meeting I had with my dad’s lawyer, I knew he had kept some money aside for schooling for my siblings for a few years. Unfortunately, I was not the only one concerned with the finances of my parents.
A few weeks after the burial, some of his “brothers” came to our house one day and demanded to see me. They said they would be moving into the house so they could oversee certain things because the only man of the house was less than ten years old. They started pointing at things they planned to sell and asked me to bring out property documents my dad had. I don’t know if they thought I would hand it over to them willingly. Clearly, they didn’t know I’m my mother’s stubborn daughter. I told them to sit and make themselves comfortable while I searched for the documents. Then I called a friend whose dad is in the military. When I told her what was happening, she called her father, and he agreed to send some of his men to the house. I also called my dad’s lawyer, who had said he was on the way with some documents he needed me to sign. I told him not to bring any documents until the situation was under control.
When the military men arrived, they first cleared out the truck outside that was meant to move my parents’ belongings, then entered the house. I wish I could record the look on my uncles’ faces. It was a mix of disbelief and shock. When the soldiers asked what I wanted them to do, I said, “If they’re not gone in the next minute, take them to the barracks and teach them a lesson.” At first, my uncles didn’t move, but when the soldiers started counting, they ran out of the house shouting that they’d “be back.”
After that incident, I didn’t see them again until January of 2024. My younger brother had fallen incredibly ill at the time and was on admission in the hospital, so I was barely at home because I had to keep an eye on him while one sister was in school and the other was home for the holidays. One day, while I was at the hospital, my sister called crying that there were some people at the gate of the house shouting and demanding to be let in. I had to leave my brother and rush home, but not before calling for backup. On getting home, I met my family members there once again, but this time they were more than the last time. They were shouting that it was an abomination for me to have used soldiers to threaten my elders. “This is what happens when a woman tried to be head of the house,” they said. Honestly, I was not in the mood for it. I was tired, my sister sounded distressed when she called me, and I needed to go back to see my brother. When I tried to push past them to enter the house, someone dragged me by my hair, and I fell to the ground. They were insulting me and telling me I had no right to stay in their brother’s house without their permission. The same house I’d lived in for years? A house my parents built together?
Luckily for me, as I was on the floor, the police I had called showed up with my mum’s younger brother. He saw me on the floor and told the officers to bundle all the people present. That’s how the police arrested about 5 of my uncles. He went with them to the station, and I went into the house to make sure my sister was okay. When she saw how I looked, she offered to be the one to stay with my brother that night. I usually wouldn’t allow it, because she was just a child, but I was too tired to say otherwise. That night, I got so many calls from my dad’s relatives calling me a shame, a disgrace, and other things. These people who watched my uncles try to bully me without interfering suddenly remembered that family should not treat each other badly. I wanted to switch off my phone so bad, but I couldn’t. I needed to be reachable in case of emergencies with my siblings.
After I showered, I went to lie down in my parents’ room. And for the first time since all of this began, I cried. I woke up with red, swollen eyes and a sore throat. My body was weak, and I was in so much pain, but I needed to be strong for my siblings. My brother was discharged a few days later. And then, I was the one on the hospital bed. The doctors said I was stressed, dehydrated, had high blood pressure among many other illnesses. I was ready to leave the next day, but my siblings made me stay, just for about three days. My mum’s younger brother stayed with them in the house so I could rest. And honestly? I liked being in the hospital. It was the first time in almost two years that I felt taken care for.
It’s been almost three years since we lost our parents, and almost two years since all of the drama with my uncles happened. No one has come to disturb us again. Maybe sleeping in police custody for a couple of days was what they really needed to straighten up. My siblings are doing well in school, and my younger sister is about to graduate from university. I miss my parents every day. I open my eyes and honestly, all of this has been tough and stressful, but my siblings are amazing. We help each other however we can.
We’re all we have, and somehow, we’re making it work.
