By Omolola Olakunri
‘She stood in the storm, and when the wind did not blow her way, she adjusted the sails’ – Elizabeth Edward.
We are the Dinosaurs.
The so-called extinct species.
The ‘Mumu Mothers’ who called our husbands Lord and met life’s storms with quiet strength and unwavering grace.
We are the Mothers who made fresh stew daily.
Who knew our husband’s PIN codes but never scrolled through their phones.
Who ran into them, side chick draped on their arm, and kept walking — head high, heart intact.
We are the last generation handed the baton —
Keepers of time-tested traditions that built, protected, and nurtured families.
Because to us, family wasn’t just important, family was everything.
And yet, we were also the first to witness a shift in the winds.
A new narrative.
The bold cry for equal rights, for women’s liberation, for personal freedom.
Women were urged to be independent, assertive, and challenge stereotypes they were not happy with.
The home, once sacred and settled, became a battlefield of ideologies.
I remember the Aunt who went to her daughter’s matrimonial home armed with canes, because her husband had reported that she had been rude to his mother. Aunty’s thinking was that since she was a divorcee, if she kept silent while her daughter was being disrespectful, it would be assumed that the apple did not fall far from the tree. Like Mother, like daughter. She did not like the label. So she went there to sort out her daughter.
It took a physical intervention to prevent the caning,
but the marriage was saved. No one ever again was under the illusion that her daughter was not well trained.
It may sound harsh today, but in our time, marriage was covenant — sacred and enduring.
No exit strategy. No plan B. No default settings.
We invested in our homes, in our children. We stayed.
And many families stayed whole — because Mother was the glue.
Was it perfect? Never.
There were the drunks, the abusers and the deadbeats . But then, what part of life is perfect?
Still, over ninety percent of marriages held firm — not because men were angels, but because mothers were the constant.
She could read her children from a glance.
Knew who was hurting from the sound of their footsteps.
Taught them hard work, honesty, and grace.
She stayed up all night with a sick child, smiled through her pain, slipped a crumpled note into their pocket on the way to school.
But don’t mistake her silence for weakness.
She didn’t stay because she couldn’t leave — she stayed because she chose to protect what she built.
She wasn’t voiceless — she was strategic.
Like the lowly hen with her chicks, she guided each child — even the stubborn.
Like Esther preparing a banquet, she won battles with wisdom.
Like Pastor Adeboye’s mother, who cooked a meal to move her husband’s heart and secure school fees — she chose strategy over strife.
But we must also be fair.
Women’s liberation brought much-needed light into the cracks we refused to see.
It gave voice to the pain so many women carried in silence. The injustice. The inequality.
It opened doors — to education, to income, inequality. To the freedom of walking away from what no longer served any purpose. .
And in many homes, it has strengthened marriages —
Because when a woman is valued, heard, and supported, she becomes an even greater partner.
Because now, many fathers are no longer distant providers but present nurturers.
Because mutual respect builds not just homes — but legacies.
I think of a friend whose husband lost his job during the pandemic.
Years ago, that might have destroyed them.
But she stepped up, kept the lights on, kept the children fed and in school.
There was no shame, no bitterness — only partnership.
That, too, is a kind of strength our mothers prayed we would one day have.
So perhaps what we need is not a rejection of the old, nor blind embrace of the new —
But a union of both.
To honor the wisdom of the past and the empowerment of the present.
To raise daughters who are strong and patient and respectful. Whose words should build not destroy.
To raise sons who are responsible and kind. Who listen and nurture.
To build homes where love is not a competition, but a covenant.
Where peace is not mistaken for silence, and where freedom walks hand-in-hand with faith.
We are the Dinosaurs.
But even Dinosaurs leave fossils —
proof of something that once ruled the earth with dignity, strength, and fierce love.
Let us not lose the lessons —
But let us also not fear the light.
*Omolola Olakunri writes from Abuja
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