We created a GatheringUs memorial to celebrate the life of our matriarch Mrs. Anaba nee Dorothy Egbe Ako. Collecting your stories and memories here will offer us great comfort. Click on the heart to let us know you were here and to receive email updates. Thank you for contributing to this lasting memorial.
OBITUARY
Not Without My Children!
My mother has always been soft-spoken, but let that not fool you. She would fight (literally and figuratively) for those she loves and cares for, and she fights dirty!One day in the seventies, my sister, Mavis, and I both lived with our father and stepmother in Bepanda Douala. My mother lived in Tiko then and wanted her children with her. She came looking for us in Douala. I don't remember all the details, but... see more
Not Without My Children!
My mother has always been soft-spoken, but let that not fool you. She would fight (literally and figuratively) for those she loves and cares for, and she fights dirty!
One day in the seventies, my sister, Mavis, and I both lived with our father and stepmother in Bepanda Douala. My mother lived in Tiko then and wanted her children with her. She came looking for us in Douala. I don't remember all the details, but I vividly recall the heated arguments she and my dad had.
Tempers escalated, and mom would not take no for an answer. Out of frustration, she took off one of the pointed heeled shoes and went for dad. In trying to hit him with all the force of her anger and frustration, she missed, but the heel of her shoes found another target, my father's friend, who had stepped in to separate the two.
The heel went through his head, and blood oozed immediately. This new development created its own urgency that abated the initial scuffle. My dad rushed his friend to the hospital on his bike. We did not go with mom that day, but the fight for us had just begun.
When my dad left to pursue his studies in Ireland, he took us to his aunt in Bafia, Muyuka, to live there until his return. Mom pounced on the opportunity, and once again, she came charging. My dad's aunt put no resistance. That's how my new life with my mother started in Yaounde.
I never lived with my dad again. He returned to Cameroon briefly, picked up a job in Kano, Nigeria, where he drove his car under a truck and died.
Never underestimate what a mother would do for her child. Mom and I have laughed over this story which I had to remind her about. I hope to read this anecdote one day without the tears that accompany it today. Thank you for being there. My family and I are grateful for your support.