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Flora Nwapa is known as the Mother of modern African literature; she was the first internationally published African woman writer in English and the first African female publisher. Her highly praised novels Efuru (1966) and Idu (1970) were published in the Heinemann African Writers Series, while her later novels Women are Different (1986) and One is Enough (1986) were initially published in Nigeria, later republished through Africa World Press, Inc in the United States. Through Never Again (1975), Flora Nwapa became the first female African writer of war novels, insightful stories of the horrors of civil war. Her last novel The Lake Goddess (2017), posthumously published by Tana Press, is acclaimed as one of Flora Nwapa’s literary masterpieces, bound to become a classic. Talented in many genres, Flora Nwapa also wrote short stories This is Lagos and other Stories (1971), Wives at War and Other Stories (1980), poems Cassava Song and Rice Song (1986) as well as plays Conversations (1993) and The First Lady (1993). Through children’s books, such as Emeka - Driver’s Guard (1972), Mammywater (1979), and Journey to Space and Other Stories (1980), Flora Nwapa also told stories for future generations.

Flora Nwapa was born in 1931 in Oguta, Nigeria. After graduating from University College Ibadan and University of Edinburgh, she taught at Queen’s School Enugu and then University of Lagos, where she was also appointed Assistant Registrar. At the end of the Nigerian Civil War, she served in the Executive Council of Eastern Nigeria until 1975. In 1977 she established a printing and publishing company, Tana Press Ltd. In addition to writing and publishing, she was a visiting professor in creative writing at the University of Maiduguri, and she also spoke at numerous conferences in Africa, Europe and the United States. In 1983, she received the Nigerian national honor of Officer of the Order of the Niger (O.O.N) for literature and in 1992 she received a Medal of Honor from Imo State. Flora Nwapa passed away in 1993 in Enugu and is buried in Oguta. She was survived by her husband and three children.

It was six in the morning when Amaka knocked at the door of her mother-in-law’s room. She asked Amaka to come in as if she’d been expecting her. Amaka was not sure what her offence was but her mother-in-law had been so rude to her the night before that she’d been unable to sleep.

That expression ‘don’t throw me away’ was not the expression of her people. She would have said ‘reject’, but she did not want to use that word, it was too painful. Throw away was better. But Amaka was not the type to be rejected or even, as she said, to be thrown away. She had made her mark in business. She was a woman to be reckoned with. Why should she be pleading in this way, and humiliating herself this morning? But she wanted peace. And, besides, she wanted to remain married to her husband, who was a loving husband.

Amaka had always wanted to be married. She envied married people, and when at last Obiora decided to marry her, she was on top of the world. She was going to show everybody that a woman’s ambition was marriage, a home that she could call her own, a man she would love and cherish, and children to crown the marriage. Although things had not worked out as she had hoped, she was desperately anxious to preserve her marriage.

There was a knock at the door, and her husband came in and sat on the bed. Did he know she was there? Amaka had not told him that she was coming to see his mother. Why was he there? Did he always visit his mother in the early hours of the morning and she did not know?

‘What is she saying to you?’ Obiora asked, and the question hit Amaka in the face. It was as if a heavy blow had landed on her forehead. Was that her husband talking or a stranger? That was not her husband’s voice, the husband who never in their six years of marriage had said an unkind word to her.

‘Will you shut up and let your wife talk!’ shouted Obiora’s mother. ‘She has come to see me. Allow her to say what she has come to say. Who asked you to come here anyway? Please remove yourself from my room. Now, my son’s wife, tell me why you have come to see me this morning. Just sit down there,’ and she felt the side of the bed and motioned her to sit down. ‘Don’t kneel any more, get up and sit here.’

Obiora left the room and the two women were alone. Amaka swallowed hard. She had planned what she wanted to say before she came in, now she was at a loss as to what to say next. And she was tired, she couldn’t help yawning. Her mother-in-law moved from the bed, and encouraged her to go on.

‘All I am saying is that you should give me time. I have another place to go. The place was recommended by a friend of mine who has recently returned from overseas. We shall go next week. I hear that the doctor never fails. He has been highly recommended by this friend of mine. I understand that his father was a great native gynaecologist.

‘This doctor was interested in his father’s profession and therefore read medicine in Russia, so as to complement the medicine he learnt from his own father with that of the white people. So, next week we shall go to Benin. The doctor is from there. That’s what I have come to tell you. Please bear with me and all will be well.’

When she finished, there was no response from the older woman. Amaka was surprised at herself. That was not what she had come to say to her mother-in-law. There was in fact no such doctor that she knew. What was happening to her? Why did this kind of story come to her at this crucial time? Was she begging for time? She had been told by many gynaecologists that there was no likelihood of her ever becoming pregnant. There was something wrong with her tubes. She had asked sensible and intelligent questions, and received almost identical answers from the medical men she had visited.

Inside her, there was this faith, this blind faith that all the gynaecologists she had seen were wrong, and that she, in God’s good time, would have a baby, no, babies. This feeling, this faith, never left her. She kept saying to herself over and over again in moments of emotional instability, ‘I will have babies. The doctors are all wrong. I will have babies, boys and girls.’ She saw babies in her dreams. She was given both baby boys and baby girls in her dreams by unknown people. She did not reject them. She took them, cleaned them and put them in babycots to sleep. She would then wake up to find that it was a dream. She would weep, her husband would hear her weeping, come to her room and wipe her tears and tell her that as she believed and had faith that they would be blessed with children, so did he too believe. Then she would feel better.

However, things had begun to change a few months back when there was still no sign of pregnancy. Her husband became short-tempered, and almost inattentive. He began to undergo a change, and Amaka noticed it all, but chose not to discuss it, saying that if she was pregnant, everything would be back to normal.

Amaka went on with her business in Onitsha, supplying timber, sand and food. She was a contractor, one of the numerous female contractors who had sprung up during and at the end of the war. Before the war, she had been a teacher. At the end of the war, because she took part in the ‘attack trade’, she rediscovered herself. She was amazed at what she was able to do and to accomplish. She and other women went right behind the enemy lines and bought from the enemy who were killing their people. There was nothing else they could do. They had to eat and have other bare necessities like toilet soap, toilet rolls, cigarettes and all the other things which Biafra could ill afford during the war.

She made money, but had no child, and her husband had been patient these six years. Was she going to behave like other women, and deceive her husband? Tell him that she was pregnant, then after a reasonable amount of time say that she had miscarried? Was she going to do that? She could fool her husband, but not her mother-in-law. The old woman was determined. She used to be friendly, now she was not. What had she in her mind? What was her plan? Was there a girl somewhere for her husband? Amaka even asked her husband to go anywhere and have a baby but he did not welcome the idea. Perhaps his mother had convinced him to look elsewhere.

When Obiora’s mother began to talk, Amaka could not believe her ears. ‘My son’s wife, you are a liar. You are a miserable and poor liar. I am sorry for you. Now listen to me carefully for I have had enough of your nonsense for a long time. Why are you apologising to me? I don’t need any apology. You think you are clever. I am cleverer than you are and all your friends who come here, eat my son’s food and talk ill of him behind his back.

‘And you, with your ilk talk of my son, my lovely son, my good son who saved you from shame and from humiliation. How many suitors had you before my son came to marry you? I told him not to marry you. I shouted it from the rooftops. I told Obiora not to marry you, that you were going to be barren. But he would not listen to me. I begged my two daughters, and even my young son, to beg Obiora not to marry you, but he refused all my entreaties. He disobeyed me and he married you.’

Shocked and confused, Amaka’s mind raced to her very first suitor, Obi. He was a very nice man and had come from a very good home. Amaka’s mother was fond of him and encouraged the relationship. The understanding that both families would be in-laws had been fully established when news came to Amaka’s mother that the young man had married another girl in church.

Amaka went hysterical. For days she did not eat. The rejection took her a long time to overcome. What was wrong with her? Why did the young man not keep his promise? Her mother was always by her side. She told her not to worry. She was still young and all would be well. ‘You just have to forget the man. He was not for you. If he were for you, then he would not have married someone else. Count yourself lucky that it happened now and not after the marriage. It would have been much worse.’

Amaka tried hard and began to look at her plight philosophically. Perhaps it was God’s will. Perhaps someone much better would come along. Oh, she wanted to be married and have children. Her sole ambition was to be a wife and mother. If she achieved this, then all the blessings of this world would come in God’s good time. So she waited.

Then came her beloved one, Isaac was his name. Isaac made Amaka know what being in love meant. Isaac taught her to enjoy sex. Hitherto she had believed that sex was what a man and a woman did to have babies. The pleasure part of it was unknown to her.

Isaac, for his own part, was surprised at Amaka’s innocence and ignorance. The questions Amaka asked intrigued him. They were innocent sixteen-year-old questions. What intrigued Isaac more, was that Amaka was genuinely eager to learn. In bed they were in bliss, in heaven. They talked, they were able to communicate both in body and in soul. They both enjoyed their sex life as well as the little talks in between.

But then in spite of all, Isaac would not propose. And Amaka waited. Being shy by nature, she did not want to bring up the matter. If Isaac was unmarried, and he seemed to love her so much, why did he not propose? Two people who loved each other so much should go ahead and consummate their love in marriage.

A year passed and there was no proposal. Amaka was not getting any younger. In fact people had started throwing in hints here and there, and they embarrassed her. But she loved Isaac. She wanted to be with him always. She did not play games. She was a oneman woman. She could not manage having affairs with several men at the same time. Her friends told her that she was making a mistake. There was nothing that was certain except death. But Amaka could not change her nature. Then tragedy struck. Amaka was preparing the evening meal when a friend rushed in, wanting to say something but restraining herself. Amaka was suspicious.

But her friend said nothing. She was the one who had urged her to have as many men friends as possible, because one never knew what was in stock for one. It would be cruel to remind her friend of this, so she kept quiet. Amaka did not blame anyone. She only blamed fate.

When she was trying to recover from the death of Isaac, she met her third man, Bob. Bob was a playboy. A week after their meeting, Bob proposed. Amaka was sceptical. She neither said yes nor no. It worried her. Then she decided to talk to her aunt. When she told her, she shook her head. ‘No, my daughter, I don’t like him. I know his family well. He is not going to be a good husband. I heard he did not care for his mother. His mother was very old, and he was an only child, and they said he would not even send money to her, let alone get a maid for her. When his mother got a little girl to take care of her, he came home on leave, pounced on this girl and made her pregnant. The mother said, well, that was what I wanted, that was what I had planned, now marry her.

‘And do you know what he did? He told the girl to abort the pregnancy. The girl was afraid and ran to her mother. That girl is married now, a loss to Bob’s mother. Then Bob and his mother went to the girl’s parents and demanded the child, because it was a boy. Of course, the girl’s parents did not listen to them.

‘And that’s the man who wants to marry you. No, my sister’s daughter. Let’s wait for a while. A good man will come. But, let me make it clear to you. Please don’t bottle yourself up. You are not going to be in a nunnery. What is important is not marriage as such, but children, being able to have children, being a mother. A marriage is no marriage without children. Have your children, be able to look after them, and you will be respected.

‘I married a man I did not like. And inspite of the fact that I have my children, I have neither respect nor regard for my husband. You can see that, can’t you? He is the father of all my children all right, but from the day I was betrothed to him I disliked him. When I had seven children in seven years of marriage, I knew I had had enough, and stopped sleeping with my husband. Of course, he protested. He reported it to my mother, but I would not budge. Nomore. I had tolerated him for seven years He had given me seven children. What else did I want from him?

‘When he began making too much fuss about this, I got a sixteen year old girl for him. Yes, I married her for him. I said to her, this is our husband, take care of him. I am going to take care of our children. I must see that they all have a good education. Good education means money. So I am concentrating on my children and my business.

‘That was how I turned my back on my husband. He became prosperous, and married more wives. I was the head wife and was expected to do my duties. These I did. Now my children are all grown. All have got married and are living in different parts of Nigeria. My daughters have rich husbands. I planned all the marriages. They are happy with their husbands, but I say to them, never depend on your husband. Never slave for him. Have your own business no matter how small, because you never can tell. Above all, I told them, never leave your husbands. I did not leave mine, but I was independent of him. If I did not take this line of action, I would not have given my children the basic education I was able to give them.

‘Marriage can make and unmake one. I learnt a lot from my own mother and I am putting into practice what she taught me. It has worked well for me and my children. It will work for you as well. But you are too simple and too trusting. You seem not to know what you want in life. Come out of your shell. Come nearer to me. You are my sister’s daughter, perhaps I have been too busy and have neglected you. Whatever it is, there is going to be a change today. You have come to me about Bob. You will not marry him.’

Yet, she was uncomfortable. Her age-grades were all getting married and leaving home. They were all having children and playing mother roles that Amaka envied and cherished. Was she going to be left on the shelf? Attending age-grade functions those days was a great ordeal. She could not live down the cruel allusions to the fact that she had not found a suitor. Some of her age-grades, either to make fun of her or out of sympathy for her plight, made clumsy matchmaking attempts which embarrassed and angered her.

One of them had suggested a divorced man with five children. Amaka did not mind the children. What she minded was the status of the man, and his ugliness. Had things really gone so far that her own friends could think of such a man as her husband? Did having a husband mean that kind of comedown? For Amaka was ambitious. She wanted to excel in everything, and beat all her sisters and her friends and age-grades. In spite of her misfortunes, her head was held high. If she did not marry well like her sisters, she would excel in other things. She would be in business, she would make money and her sisters, friends and age-grades would respect her.

Then another tragedy struck. Bob was killed. Amaka was shocked and afraid. What was going on? she asked herself several times. She felt nothing for Bob of course, but then he and Isaac had died tragically, and they both had something to do with her. They both wanted at one time or another to marry her.

There was something mysterious working against her or for her. If she had married Isaac, she would have been a widow and if she had married Bob, the same fate would have befallen her. There was definitely a force behind it all. This mysterious force was working for her, not against her. She should therefore be thankful to God that she was saved twice from being a widow.

In spite of all these misfortunes, Amaka was doing marvellously well in her business. Soon she bought a plot of land and began planning a house of her own. Her mother welcomed this move. And she it was who encouraged her to go on. ‘The richer you are,’ she told her, ‘the better your husband will be and he will really appreciate you. Your husband’s relatives will appreciate you as well. But, remember, make men friends and start thinking of having children. Marriage or no marriage, have children. Your children will take care of you in your old age. You will be very lonely then if you don’t have children. As a mother, you are fulfilled.’

How awkward for Amaka. That was not what she learnt in her few years at school. The good missionaries had emphasised chastity, marriage and the home. Her mother was teaching something different. Was it something traditional which she did not know because she went to school and was taught the tradition of the white missionaries?

How was she to make the approach? How was she to get pregnant without a husband? What was she going to say to her married friends, to her age-grades, to her business associates? And what was more, who would look after the business while she became pregnant?

Her mother dismissed all these questions with a wave of the hand. ‘What were you taught in that school of yours? Plan, plan, plan, what are you planning for? Did I sit down and say, I am going to have seven children, three boys and four girls and no more?

‘You create problems where there are none. Let yourself go, I say. Are you a child? Tell me, how old are you and how old am I? When I gave birth to you, I must have been twenty-seven or twenty-eight. Now tell me, what is the difference in our ages, that I have to teach you what to do to have a worthy life? I say look at me and learn from me, you fool.’

It was after this encounter with her mother that Amaka met her future husband, Obiora. Although he came from her area, Obiora had lived in the North so she had never met him until he transferred to Onitsha as an executive officer in one of the Ministries in which a girl friend of Amaka’s, Adaobi, also worked. Through Adaobi, Amaka met Obiora and was instantly attracted to him. He was quiet and gentle in manner and behaviour and Amaka felt she could trust and depend on him. Obiora made it clear to everyone that he admired Amaka and was interested in marrying her, and all concerned thought it was an ideal match. Amaka did not feel as intensely as she had with Isaac but she was sure Obiora would make a much better husband. The courtship lasted for about six months and they were married in church in Onitsha after completing the traditional marriage ceremonies.

Obiora’s mother continued:

‘Whether you hear or not, it will end today. Everything will end today when I finish with you. The hold you have on my son will end today. Do you hear me? I have waited for six years, and I cannot wait for even one day more. Didn’t you see how I hushed up Obiora when he came in to interfere? He is a stupid son. Sometimes I wonder whether he is my son. But I know he takes after his useless father, making a lot of fuss without backing his fuss with action. If my son heard me, if he listened to me, his house would have been full of children by now.