Rest in peace and rise in glory Mamma! Remembering you fondly today as my mother and father?, Giant of a lady who...
- Stood tallest amongst her peers always distinguishing herself as she hated being ordinary!
- Who spoke the best good Bakweri, good English , Bakossi and Banyangi and a smattering amount of French!...and never tolerated nor hesitated to correct anyone who made mistakes speaking properly 
-who taught us to read books by interpreting illustrations even before we could read the alphabet 
- o how she had fun listening to our childish interpretations of illustrations which sometimes were so far from reality!!!
- Who taught us reading by reading the Bible and correcting our mistakes and in so doing , improving our English while getting us to know the Bible and especially that the fear of the Lord is the beginning of all wisdom (one of her favourite passages!)
Who at the same time taught us to walk straight, no bending of your back or...... forgot the word which was also one of her favourites too...
- who taught us to sing especially religious songs and songs as Guides...every time we went for a car drive and came back in the evening, we had to do rounds of O HOW LOVELY IS THE EVENING IS THE EVENING WHEN THE BELLS ARE SWEETLY RINGING SWEETLY RING DING DONG DING DONG...O Mamma !!! How I miss you!!!
- Not to talk of Where the bee sucks there suck I, in a cow slip bell I lie, there I crouch where owls do cry where owls do cry where owls do cry...on the bats back I do fly....I do fly I do fly..., After Summer merrily merrily after Summer merrily. Merrily merrily shall I live now, under the bosom that hangs n the bough, merrily merrily shall I live now, under the bosom that hangs on the bough, under the bosom that hangs on the bough!
-Mamma, please I dont have the patience to teach your grandchildren so what will I do? Wait for your great grannies to teach them all these songs?? ? Maybe...if not it will be such a waste...
- you this same classy beauty with a large kind heart, who didn't hesitate to share all you had with family and even with strangers!!!, was the same Mum who never hesitated in killing snakes as long and green as they came in those days, when you felt your kids could be threatened!!!
- Mamma Mamma Mamma ooooooo where will I stop? Some lady wants permission to translate your interesting life story into a movie??? Am I saying YES?   That's for sure...working on immortalising the great ELECT LADY as Moderator Emeritus Nku named you!
Getting my thoughts together...bye for now.  Love you ..
Lots!!!

My Mbamba and I spent a lot of our time together learning about the good Lord, the Holy Bible and songs of praise. 
She loved singing beautiful melodies in Duala language and would "la la la la" whenever she didn't remember the words immediately. The first one I can remember learning with her just before my baptism was "Na Salō" which spoke about how small we are as humans, but reassured that the good Lord doesn't care about that when He showers us with blessing.

My favorite of these songs this year has been "Kristo a Tondi Mba" reminding me of God's unmeasurable love for me and mine. My mbombo was a woman of gratitude and till her very last days on earth, she was to be heard saying "Thank You, Thank God" and so through my pain, my gratitude remains. Na som Loba o nyol'a ndola'O.

My Mbombo and I would wake up early in the morning and after thanking God, cleaning ourselves and eating serious breakfast "for strength" we would set out to the backyard bench and prepare the day's meal. I was about 4-5 years old but I remember washing the bitter-leaf, onions, and other ingredients in a small basin, ready for her to cut. Wether it was Okro soup or Ndole, there had to be greens, because vegetables are key nutrients. After ingredients were prepared, Uncle Moyo would make the fire in the outdoor traditional kitchen. And there I would sit and watch it boil with the other children. I would gather all left over ingredients, some salt here, some onion slices there, and save them for a soup of my own later in the day. As soon as lunch was eaten and everyone retired from the kitchen, I was back outside putting to practice my own lessons. Gathering leafs from the garden trees (sometimes guava, sometimes other random grass), I would make a tiny soup with my saved ingredients from the main meal and beg Uncle Moyo to blow the left over firewood under my small pot. After my soup was ready I would bring it to Iya Mbombo to taste it and in true fashion, she would eat it but also praise my efforts. We would revisit the recipes over the years until I mastered them all and became in charge of main meals myself.

Thank You my Iya Mbombo, for your unending love and patience. I love you, forever.