The relationship between some great men and their strong mothers has never ceased to fascinate snooper. After having conquered and subdued the whole of Russia, Joseph Stalin, a failed seminarian, returned home to his native Georgia to what he thought would be a rousing welcome.
But his mother was unimpressed. Scanning the new emperor of the land of the Tsars with maternal disapproval, the old woman erupted: “Joseph, it is a pity you didn’t make it as a priest”, she growled. The man who had famously asked how many divisions the Pope himself could muster retreated with his famous tunic coat blazing.
Coming nearer home, a triumphant Brigadier Godwin Alabi-Isama in the early seventies once approached the Palm Groove area of Lagos where his mother was residing with sirens blazing and outriders scorching the earth. There was much commotion and hullabaloo.
The great war hero had just been made the acting military governor of old Bendel state. As he made to open the door of the apartment, the old woman, a formidable Ilorin princess, jumped at him. “So you are the one causing all this confusion in this quiet neighbourhood? Afira ee!!” In Yoruba parlance, this is a command to immediate disappearance.
“Ma’min, e ma doju timi”, (Mother, please don’t disgrace me) the crestfallen warrior pleaded with his adamant mother. A compromise had to be worked out where the war hero had to go to the nearest military barracks to remove his uniform and entourage before he could slip back into the neighbourhood.
On a final note, snooper once engaged his mother in a long conversation after a sojourn abroad collecting academic laurels. Snooper wanted to know whether a nearby community famous for rural psychiatry was still in existence. After listening to snooper drooling endlessly about the virtues of rural psychiatry, the old woman suddenly shot out: “Sir, do you have somebody who is sick?” End of discussion and end of conversation. Oh sweet mothers. Some mothers do have ‘em indeed.
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