The woman I was named after

Fragile yet strong hands that depicted years of hard work endured. From farming, cooking, trading constantly to feed her children, my grandma was a strong woman. Brown skin like the silkiest of chocolate relenting on her youth that was stolen by time and life. Trekking many miles on two spindly legs that required a limp in order to sustain the tingling pain she felt from her aged bones. She walked the muddy streets of Nigeria to fulfil her role as a mother as well as her responsibility to her body to replenish its many energy expenditure. Her previously 5 foot 6 inches that she was, now stood at 5 foot 2 inches due to the hunch she had obtained over her years of having to bend over to find sustenance. Her face tells the story of a life well lived. Under the harsh suns of Africa, her once fair and bouncy skin now sags on her skin like a calm wave never disturbed. Once flawlessly brown with no speckles, her skin sits on her face speckled like a chocolate chip cookie from the years of constant exposure to the harshness of the UV rays from the sun. Once plump and resistant to gravity her cheeks were sunken and her flesh no longer able to hide the secrets that the flesh of every human tried so desperately to hide. Her eyes looked tired and yet bright from the many knowledge it had absorbed from its surroundings. The sparse scattering that was her hair rested on her head like a population that was on the verge of extinction, sat aging along with her. She truly was a beautiful woman. The woman who raised me even when she had little left to give, for she had given her all to nine other kids from her womb. What she had viewed as little was immense to me because it shaped the person that I am today. I attribute my persevering nature to all the times that she never backed down no matter how impossible a situation seemed. Her humbling demeanor even to those undeserving of it taught me that my reaction to a situation was what determined the outcome. Despite her appearance that hinted to everyone she met that she was old and fragile, she commanded respect like a drill sergeant urging his soldiers to stand at attention but without the loud voice. She was the man and the woman in her house. Her independent nature is what drives me to work hard for myself relying on no one but my hard work to pave the way for me. She never caved to the patriarchal laws that society tried to place on her. In a world that required two persons to keep a house afloat, she found a way to live with one and be a great mother all at once. I reminisce of those times we spent together just the both of us, those were rare moments where you would tell me of your youth and I would look at you in wonder admiring the woman you used to be and the woman that you became. Even in death your presence in my life is unwavering. The lessons you taught me are not forgotten. This was the woman that laid the foundation of the woman I aspire to be. An independent confident woman whom even in the face of adversity finds a way to come out prosperous. I could never be the woman that she was. I could only strive to be the best version of myself because this is what she taught me.