“How my mother sold her clothes and gold ornaments to raise money for my Common Entrance” Denrele Edun recounts

To celebrate Mother’s Day on Sunday, media personality, Denrele Edun has recounted his mother’s sacrifices for him and his siblings.

In a lengthy post on his Instagram page, he revealed that his mother worked several jobs in Lagos to make life worth living for them. He noted how she was juggling being a class teacher, headmistress, French and German teacher, lesson teacher, and more.

He recounted how in 1989/1990, she had to sell her Indian Saris and gold ornaments to raise money for his Common Entrance as he had passed the deadline of payment. He stated that he was left distraught over her sacrifice as he knew she was saving it for her flight ticket back to Mauritius. However, his mother assured him that he was her achievement.

Denrele further disclosed that moving to their family house was hell on earth for them as there was no moment of peace as their cousins were always out to draw blood. But his mother stood up for them and fought for everything and everyone.

They are beautiful, softened at the edges, and tempered with a spine of steel.
We want to grow old and be like them!

All that I AM or HOPE TO BE, I owe to my MUM.

The hardworking, resilient, overtly temperamental (We never understood why, but now I do), MFM Prayer Warrior, Street Fighter, Fashion Killer all-round Superwoman named ANITA DHUNWANTEE EDUN!

My mother worked several jobs in Lagos to make life worth living for us kids. She was a Class Teacher here, the Headmistress there, a French and German teacher somewhere, and a Lesson Teacher everywhere!

I recall one time in Primary 6 (1989/1990) when I had no school sandals, my uniform was struggling at the seams and we had passed the deadline for payment of my Common Entrance Examination. My Dad was out of a job and my Mum (then) was working as a kindergarten teacher who tried incessantly to get salary advance payment but the School Authorities were already tired of her demands. She sold off her Indian Saris and gold ornaments (sold them ALL…every single one) and even though I was so distraught cos I knew she was saving them up for her flight fare back to Mauritius, she hugged me and told me,
“You silly boy. You are my investment. Make sure u pass your Common Entrance and buy all my Saris back”.
She muttered something in Hindi, tugged at my ears, and rushed off to another job.

Moving to our family house was HELL on earth!
There was never a moment of peace.
My cousins were always out to draw blood but here’s the crãzy part; My MOTHER STOOD UP FOR US ALL AND FOUGHT EVERYTHING FIGHTABLE!
Standing at 5ft 3, she was a FORMIDABLE FORCE and ONE MAN MOPOL! She even broke bottles faster than an Agbero but still Ebute Metta style! I always looked in amazement as she fought bout 8 women in our family house every frigging day whilst my Dad would always leave them to Baba GOD.
Try Anita’s kids and you will see her Indian wrath in all its volcanic glory!

It was my Mum’s Birthday on the 7th, IWD on the 8th, and now Mothering Sunday on the 10th;
Triple Celebration for IYA RELE.