We often confuse a mere dwelling place for a home, By Muyiwa Adetiba
This month makes it two years since my mother died. As it often happens during some anniversaries, the mind wanders. And as it wanders from one incident to another, from one happenstance to another, the latent philosopher in us emerges. We ponder with hindsight on the insignificance of things which were seemingly very important ten, twenty years ago. For example, my mother had always wanted to build a housesolely in her name and probably would have felt unfulfilled in life had she not done so. The prayer of her time – and possibly beyond her time- in Yorubaland was that one would achieve enough in one’s lifetime to be able to build a house and buy a car (wako’le, wara moto).Along with having responsible children, it was the ultimate fulfillment of the time. The house which she moved into after her husband died gave her a new lease of life and was her home for almost four decades. Today, the house is forlorn and empty. The things she had kept and guarded so jealously over the years; so...