I was a sick child. My parents at some point thought I wasn’t going to make it. From three until I was a teenager, I was always sick. There was no month my parents didn’t carry me in their arms looking for a new healer to attend to me. It was worse at nine years. According to my mom, I went into a coma and everyone thought I was gone. “If it happened in the house, we would have buried you,” my mom said. “We were so sure you were gone.”

I didn’t die. I survived and as the only male child of my parents, I became the apple of their eyes. My mom expected me to be treated special wherever I went. There were so many foods I wasn’t allowed to eat and some fruits I wasn’t allowed to taste. She would take me to school and tell my teacher to keep an eye on me so I don’t eat certain things or engage in certain kinds of play. “He’s a sick child. Not strong. Kindly keep an eye on him for me before we lose him.”

A teacher beat me one day in school and my mom stormed the school. I was nine or ten years old. It took four male teachers to stop my mom from attacking this teacher. After that encounter, my class became toxic. No one would play with me. The teachers didn’t engage me again. Whether wrong or right, they didn’t tell me anything. I could feel the venom wherever I went so I told my parents to take me out of the school and they did.

My dad punished me one day and it turned into a fight between him and my mom. My mom won’t allow anything to touch me because, in her own words, “If he gets sick and on the verge of dying, I’m the only one who will suffer. While you sleep and snore, I will stay awake, suffering, to ensure he gets well. Let nobody touch him or else you won’t experience the good side of me.”

I took advantage of my mom’s protection to fool around until I grew up and needed her to stay out of my way. I wanted to go to a boarding school when I was in SHS. My mom said, “No, you can’t go to the boarding house. They won’t know how to take good care of you. I don’t want them to rush your dead bones home. Stay here where I can keep an eye on you.”

I was an adult and hadn’t been sick in years. I could run, I could fight, I could go for a gun battle and win, I could climb the highest mountain and come back one whole but my mom didn’t think I was strong enough to go to the boarding house. It became an argument between her and my dad. My dad was so sure I would be alright. My mom said, “He will only be alright when I have my eyes on him. He hasn’t been sick all these years because I ensure the right things are done.”

I went to a day school, completed and stayed home to attend the university. Mom won’t let me go to the hall I was assigned to because she thought I could self-destruct. If God had come down from the heavens to assure my mom of his divine protection, my mom would have argued with him. She didn’t believe anyone to take care of me except herself.

So I would go out and not come back home for two or three days. I would sleep in my friend’s hostel so I could learn with them. She would get angry and bark at me but I didn’t care. I did that until when I was in my third, she agreed for me to go to the hall.

I introduced my girlfriend to them after my national service. Dorinda. That day, my mom sat her down and told her my medical history from birth until I became an adult. Every battle I’d fought medically and how she stayed awake for weeks to ensure I didn’t die. She told her what I don’t eat, what I shouldn’t eat and what she should not put in my food. It was a whole orientation that day. It took my dad to rescue Dorinda from those lectures.

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Anytime Dorinda came around, my mom would be coming in and going out as if something of hers was missing. One day she walked in on us having sex. I thought I locked the door. She didn’t tell anyone about it but she never gave Dorinda a face anytime she came around. She told me, “Don’t ever think you’re going to marry that girl. She’s a bad influence.”

How was she a bad influence when I was the one on top?

I left home when I got a job. Two years later, I brought Dorinda home to discuss marriage plans with my parents. Dad was good. He was happy I was marrying the woman I loved. My mom was still holding on to the mental images she had of us having sex so she said no, I should bring another woman home. She huffed and puffed but I didn’t change my mind until I finally married Dorinda.

It’s been hell since we got married. My mom virtually lives with us. Sometimes, I regret bringing Dorinda into this storm.

She comes to our house without prior notice and takes over everything. When my wife cooks, she wants to supervise from start to finish, criticizing her cooking skills and telling her, “You’ll kill my son before his time if you continue giving him these kinds of foods.”

There’s nothing my body hates. I’m fully recovered from those childhood traumas but somehow, my mom thinks I’m still that child and still needs that care and protection. As I write this, she still lives with us. She has been here for two months. When we are not home, she goes out to a shop in front of the house and gossips about my wife. The owner of the shop knows everything about us because of my mom.

My wife is very patient but I feel her patience is waning. She cries when I’m not looking and tells me she’s alright. I don’t want to fight with my mom in front of her, I try to put my mom in her place but it’s had to keep her there. I’ve tried all diplomacy to contain my mom but she’ll leave today and come tomorrow without informing us about her coming.

So weeks ago, I told my dad we were moving out of our place to a new place without telling my mom so she wouldn’t have that unrestricted access to my house. Dad agreed with me and even my siblings urged me to do it quickly before things get out of hand. I don’t know the conversation they were having but my dad ended up telling my mom about my plans to relocate. It’s the reason my mom is here with us, without moving an inch.

“Do you know how I’ve suffered to keep you alive? All my children, you’re the one who made me suffer. Now you’re an adult and you want to cut me off because of another woman? Do you think your wife will cut her mother off because of you?” Try it and let’s see if you’ll ever be happy again in life.”

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Now I’m stuck between a hard place and a rock, not knowing which way to go. Since all efforts have failed, I’m here with my story. What should I do to get my mom off my neck and away from my marriage? My wife is not happy. She’s shrinking just to make space for my mother and it’s not fair. Please help.

—Alfredo

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