‘Will mother come back today?’

Soon after the reality of the finality hit me, a poem came to my mind.  The pithy lines of Streamside Exchange by J.P. Clark became more real to me than ever.

Child: River bird, river bird

Sitting all day long

On hook over grass,

River bird, river bird

Sing to me a song

Of all that pass

And say,

Will mother come back today?

Bird:  You cannot know

And should not bother;

Tide and market come and go

And so shall your mother.

This recollection transported me back to the 1970s when I first experienced the poem in secondary school. In a way, the gripping dialogue prepared me for an event that was to happen about 38 years later. It was a death foretold. But when it eventually occurred, I was still unprepared.

For over five decades, Eleanor Bodunrin Macaulay (nee Williams) was a constant and consistent parental presence. Even now, the shadow of her presence remains, suggesting a deathless physicality. I was her first-born and bonded with her beyond the restrictive ephemerality of earthly life. Genetically and by socialisation, she will always be with me.

This is a time for the choreography of memory. What can I remember? What do I remember? What do I want to remember? Her modesty was magical and magnetic, particularly in a world of vain noisiness. Her younger brother, Mr. Bankole Williams, said of her: “She disliked anything flamboyant and believed in modesty.”  One of her favourite sayings, “Little drops of water make a mighty ocean,” provided an insight into her sense of organic development and increase, which was reflected in the way she lived and projected herself.

Hers was a life of meticulous attention to order and propriety. As a working mother with four children, three boys and a girl, she had to strike a balance between her workplace and her home, which she did with remarkable aplomb. Apart from her incalculable contribution domestically, she was able to hold down a job in a bank for 30 years. During the period, starting from July 1955, she held secretarial positions at the Barclays Bank (DCO), and later at the Union Bank following a business-name change, and retired in 1985. She was awarded certificates for “loyal and faithful service” to mark her 10th, 20th and 30th service years.

Bodunrin Macaulay was dependable and consistent, and had long-term money-keeping responsibilities in the Shotan Williams family union as well as her church society. She was also a fascinating stickler for time. By Saturday afternoon, she was already prepared for church service the next day, with her clothes and accessories chosen and ready. Also, when she had to attend a special event, she would start planning for it at least a week or two ahead. She was impressively time-conscious and her punctuality was a timeless lesson.

It is food for thought that as she lay dying, she was sufficiently conscious of her commitments, and a particular demonstration of her sense of duty was noteworthy. She sent her monetary contribution to the Women Missionary Union (WMU) through a family member, despite her infirmity and the distraction it represented.

Bodunrin Macaulay was born in Forcados, a riverine area in the present-day Delta State, on January 5, 1935. She was the fifth of the eight children of the late Pa Joseph Latunji Williams (alias J.L.), who was a marine engineer with the Nigerian Marine, now Nigeria Ports Authority. Her mother, Omare Edudun (known as Nene) from Isie, Warri, was of Itsekiri stock. In the mid-forties, her father was transferred back to Lagos and lived with his family at No. 29 Odunlami Street, Lagos Island. Bodunrin had her elementary education at the Salvation Army Central School, Kakawa Street, directly opposite the famous Da Rocha House. After completing her Standard Six education, she worked for Alban Pharmacy and enrolled with Pitmans Secretarial Institute, and studied Typing and Shorthand. On completion of her studies, she passed the Intermediate Level and joined the then Barclays Bank (DCO), now Union Bank, as a Shorthand typist, and rose through the ranks to senior secretarial positions.

In 1960, she got married to Frank Olusola Macaulay (of blessed memory), a grandnephew of Herbert Macaulay, the famous Nigerian nationalist. Their wedding, which followed a considerably long courtship, took place at Ereko Methodist Church, Lagos. They were married for 53 years and were only separated by the death of her husband in August 2013. It is worth mentioning that in a moment of candid expressiveness in the 1980s, Olusola Macaulay advised his first and second sons, me and my younger brother, who were then undergraduates, to go for women who would be like their mother when they were ready for wedlock.

It is a reflection of her loyal and dedicated nature that until her death Bodunrin Macaulay maintained a good relationship with members of the Ladies Friendly Society, which was founded in August 1947 by 12 people including her, even after she had followed her husband to the First Baptist Church, Lagos. In a tribute, the group described her as “respected.” The group also said: Without any exaggeration, our late Sister Bodunrin Macaulay has set a unique record that is difficult to challenge or beat, viz. (1) She is a foundation member (2) Her great financial involvement and commitment to our Society and the Church of God.”  It added: “We need to remind ourselves that great deeds never perish and great men and women are always remembered by those they left behind.”

Bodunrin Macaulay would have been 80 on January 5, 2015, but she didn’t wait for the celebration. Three weeks to the milestone, on December 15, 2014, her mortality intervened. The fictional conversation between the child and the bird in J.P. Clark’s immortal poem came alive in all its profundity.  I ponder on David Carradine’s poetic line: “If you can’t be a poet, be the poem.” Bodunrin Macaulay might not have been a poet, but she was a poem. Her life had a poetic quality, and I am duty-bound to extend the lyricism. Let me ask a rhetorical question: “Will mother come back today?”