Written by tales with barbee

Once upon a time, in a noisy compound at the heart of Enugu, there lived one woman that everybody feared, Mama Chuks, the self-appointed judge of all wives.
People said she didn’t have ordinary mouth. That woman’s tongue could slice yam.
Her favorite topic? Her son’s wives.
Her favorite sentence? “No woman can love my son more than me!”
She was a Chubby, dark-skinned widow with loud slippers that slapped the floor as she walked. From morning till night, her voice echoed across the compound.
“Chuks! Don’t eat that woman’s food o! She used salt carelessly!”
“Chuks! See how this girl folded wrapper—like somebody who lacks proper home training!”
“Chuks! Don’t give her access to your Bank account. That’s how women start controlling men!”

When her first daughter Inlaw Ngozi married Chuks, she came with all the softness of a Sunday morning.
She knelt every time she greeted, cooked from her heart, and treated Mama Chuks like her own mother.
But Mama Chuks wanted more than respect—she wanted control.

At first, it was the small things.
If Ngozi swept the house, Mama Chuks would deliberately scatter groundnut shells on the floor.
“You call this clean?” she’d snap. “

If Ngozi cooked stew, Mama would Shout .
“Did lots wife fall inside this stew?”

Ngozi would smile through it, saying softly, “Mama, I’ll do better next time.”
But “next time” never satisfied her.

When visitors came, Mama Chuks turned her house into a theatre.
She would praise herself and humiliate Ngozi in front of everyone.
“My former house girl could cook better than this one,” she’d announce, while Ngozi stood there forcing a smile.

The last straw came one evening after work.
Ngozi returned from work tired but still went straight to the kitchen. She cooked rice, fried plantain, and set the table.
Mama Chuks tasted the food, hissed, and poured water on the plate.
“You want to kill me with palm oil? You wicked girl! You want to use Your nonsense cooking to send me to the hospital!”

Ngozi broke down crying, but Mama shouted louder.
“Cry louder! Maybe the angels will pity you!”

That night, Ngozi slept with a heavy heart. She couldn’t tell Chuks because he always said “Be patient with mama you know how she is, don’t worry she will come around”.

So Before dawn, she placed her wedding ring on the table and left quietly, leaving a short note:

“Chuks, I tried. God knows I did.”

When Chuks woke up and saw the note, his heart sank but Mama didn’t even flinch.
“She was never wife material,” she said coldly. “I’ll find you a proper woman.”

Six months later, Chuks married Amaka. beautiful, outspoken, with a quick tongue and quicker mind.
From the first week, sparks flew.

Mama Chuks hated that Amaka didn’t tremble around her.
“Good morning, Mama,” Amaka would say casually while walking past, and Mama would hiss.
“So you can’t kneel? Your legs pain you abi?”

Amaka would reply, “Mama, respect is from the heart. Kneeling isn’t really necessary.”

That was how the war began.

Mama Chuks changed the lock on the kitchen cupboard and kept the key in her bra.
“If you want to cook, ask me first,” she’d say.
Amaka bought her own stove the next day and cooked in the corridor.

Mama Chuks started a new tactic. slander.
She told every neighbor that Amaka was possessed.
“Any time she looks at me, my body shakes. That’s not ordinary!”

When Chuks came home, he’d find his mother moaning about chest pains and evil eyes.
“My Son, this girl is dangerous. Since she entered this house, peace ran away!”

One afternoon, Amaka had enough.
“Mama, stop lying about me,” she said firmly.
Mama Chuks clapped her hands dramatically.
“Jesus! She’s shouting at me in my own house!”

Within minutes, neighbors gathered.
Mama Chuks sat on the ground, rolling and wailing.
“God o, my son’s wife wants to kill me!”

Chuks, embarrassed and confused, begged both of them to stop.
But Mama Chuks wouldn’t stop until she got her victory.
When Chuks went to work the next day, she packed Amaka’s bags and threw them outside.

“If you know what’s good for you, go back to your Father’s house,” she said.
“I won’t live under the same roof with a Jezebel!”

Amaka didn’t cry. She simply looked her straight in the eye and said,
“Mama, one day, you’ll meet a woman who will treat you worse than you’ve treated others.”

Then she left, furious, but free.

TO BE CONTINUED….
#africanstory #storytelling #NigerianStories #wickedmotherinlaw #fblifestyle #writtenstory