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Gaya

When I was dating Desmond, my now husband, he called me one day and said we needed to talk. Now, a woman is usually the one who says things like that, so when Desmond said it, my mind immediately went to the worst possible place. I texted my group chat and informed them that my relationship was ending. I told them to have ice cream ready. I told them to take turns caring for me. I cried before the breakup had even happened.

Then I put on my hottest breakup dress. A hot red number with a gold brooch at the edge. If my heart was about to be shattered, at least I was going to look expensive while it happened. When I got there, Desmond looked serious. Too serious then he said:

<i>"My mum said she doesn't like you."</i>

I stared at him. Then I laughed. Then I laughed harder. Then I started crying from laughing. Desmond was looking at me like I'd finally lost my mind. I hugged him and told him never to scare me like that again because I genuinely thought I was attending a breakup meeting. His mother didn't like me? Was that all? Please. I thought somebody had died.

When I finally recovered, I told him I loved him and his mother's dislike was not enough to end our relationship. That's when he asked if I was sure.I was very sure. See ehn, before Desmond, I had suffered. I had been heartbroken, disappointed, confused, emotionally kidnapped and returned to sender by different sons of the devil. Then Desmond arrived. A complete sweetheart. A walking apology from God for everything I had survived before him. There was no way I was giving that up because somebody's mother had decided she didn't like my tribe. I was Igbo. That was the crime.. Did I create myself? No. Did I hold a tribal selection meeting before birth? Also no. So mama was simply going to have to manage.

Getting Mama To Agree Was My First Full-Time Job

Convincing mama to agree to the marriage nearly finished all of us. I travelled to spend a week with her. I followed her to Wednesday prayers. I met her pastor. I met the women in church. I knelt down and promised not to hurt her son.Desmond involved uncles. Family meetings were held. Negotiations happened and eventually she agreed but agreeing to the marriage and liking me were two completely different things.

The wedding happened but the hatred remained. After a while, I stopped trying to win her over. If she wanted to like me, fine. If she didn't, life would continue or so I thought. Then, eight months into our marriage, mama arrived. Unannounced.

Mama Arrived With Trouble. I Served It Back Garnished.

Mama cama unannounced, I’'m sure the unannounced visit was deliberate, a calculated attempt to catch me off guard and fuel some anger she could then report back home. It didn't work. Looking back, I'm honestly surprised at how calm I was.

I got back from work holding a box of pizza for dinner and found mama and Desmond sitting in the living room. I knelt down, hugged her, and told her how happy I was to see her. I did not mean a single word of it, but I knew she had come for war, so I was determined to give her peace instead, the most aggravating weapon available to me.

Desmond was looking at me with worried eyes the entire time. I checked my phone later and saw he had sent a warning text I never opened because I was driving when it came in. I naked mama if she had eaten, ,she looked at me long and hard, then she asked: "So Desmond is now the one cooking in this house?" The battle had officially begun.

I smiled, then I asked what she wanted to eat. She requested real food. One thing about me is that I bulk cook. There were soups in my freezer, different varieties. I entered the kitchen, warmed one, prepared swallow, and served her. The moment she saw the food, she frowned."I don't eat soup that has spent weeks in the freezer."

I told her I had cooked it that same morning. She nodded, satisfied, and ate the soup I had actually made the previous week, freshened up with a handful of new vegetables thrown in, because I already knew all of her tactics before she'd even unpacked her bags.

That evening, Mama announced she had been "led by the Holy Spirit" and that we needed to hold a vigil. A Wednesday night vigil. Desmond did not need to join, apparently, because this was a "woman's thing." I told her I had work in the morning. She told me we cannot disobey the spirit. I knew it was the spirit of trouble.

We prayed. We kabashed. We did Bible readings. We watched sermons until 3am.

When we finished, she asked how I felt. I told her I felt renewed, that God had spoken to me, and that I would share my instructions in the morning. The next day, I was up at 6am for work. I went to greet her, held her hands, and told her God had revealed to both of us that we should observe a one-day fast, 6am to 6pm. Which meant, regrettably, that I would not be cooking that day, and we certainly could not disobey the spirit. I prayed over her, blessed her morning, and left the room.

I told Desmond we'd grab breakfast on the way to work. Two could absolutely play this game.

That was the last time mama ever called a vigil again.

Five Hours In Lagos Island Nearly Sent Me To Heaven

Two weeks into her stay, mama announced she wanted to go shopping, and Desmond begged me to accompany her. We walked the entirety of Lagos Island for five straight hours. She liked nothing. We bought nothing for four of those five hours while I smiled through what may have been the most elaborate psychological warfare I have ever experienced, quietly drafting my revenge plan in my head with every step.

I knew exactly what she was doing. She wanted a reaction. I refused to give her one. Eventually, mercifully, she found a few materials worth buying and we went home. I served her dinner. I went to bed. I caught her smiling to herself in a way that told me she thought she'd won something.

I was furious but Desmond's kisses and cuddles that night softened the blow considerably. Still, the revenge plan remained fully active.

The following Saturday, I woke mama up at 6 a.m. I told her there was a women's conference at church and I wanted us to attend together. Mama was very delighted. What I forgot to mention was that the conference lasted from morning till evening. Back-to-back sessions, guest speakers, panel discussions and prayer sessions.

One woman spent almost an hour talking about submission. I took notes. Mama took naps whenever she thought I wasn't looking. By the time we got home, she went straight to bed. After that day, Lagos Island shopping trips mysteriously disappeared from her agenda.

Not long after, mama developed a new hobby. Criticising my cooking. Every day there was a complaint; too much salt, too little salt, too much pepper, too little pepper. One afternoon, I decided enough was enough. The next morning, I presented her with a notebook.

Mama looked confused. I explained that she was obviously the superior cook and I wanted future generations to benefit from her wisdom. Every complaint would now be documented, every correction recorded and every instruction preserved. I called it:"Mama's Official Guide To Feeding Her Son."

The first day, she was excited. The second day, she became cautious. By the third day, she was suddenly satisfied with almost everything I cooked. Funny how that works.

The funny thing is that mama and I never had one dramatic fight; no shouting, iinsults or family meeting. We simply spent enough time together for her to realise I wasn't going anywhere and I spent enough time with her to realise that beneath all the stress, she genuinely loved her son.

Perhaps too much. Eventually she stopped looking for faults. I stopped looking for revenge and somehow we found a rhythm. Not perfect but peaceful. These days, mama even calls me first sometimes. Life is funny like that. The woman who once didn't want me because I was Igbo now tells people I make the best soup in the family.

Granted, I suspect she's still monitoring me but at least now she's doing it with love or something close to it. Send this to your mother-in-law or your future mother-in-law or somebody currently fighting for their life in a family WhatsApp group.

My mother-in-law came into my marriage looking for trouble. What followed was a hilarious battle of vigils, shopping trips, and petty revenge.

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