Nne Ọha (Mother of Many)

(For my sister-in-law, my sister by choice)

They wonder if it’s her
who shares my blood
instead of my brother.

And I smile,
because they aren’t wrong.

We met
when she was just a girl
falling into love with my brother—
young, soft-spoken,
eyes full of promise.

I opened my door to her,
not knowing I was also opening my heart
to a forever kind of sister.

We’ve never quarreled.
Not once.
Because we love with awareness—
with deep respect,
gentle honesty,
and the kind of peace
that needs no proof.

When my brother says,
“Go to her,”
she never asks,
“Why?”
She simply packs her bag,
boards the plane,
and steps into my chaos
like she belongs there.

Because she does.

My children call her aunty,
but what they mean is home.

She’s braided their joy
into everyday moments—
read bedtime stories,
kissed bruised foreheads,
taken them trick-or-treating
while I scribbled chapters
that would shape our future.

And when she gave birth,
I was there—
not as guest,
not as friend,
but as the one who held her hand
and held her child
like he was mine too
because he is

We’ve danced in hospital waiting rooms,
watched over my brother as he healed,
shared kitchens,
shared laughter,
shared purpose.

She keeps me tethered
to the taste of Nigeria—
soup steaming in warm bowls,
stories from home pouring like palm wine
into this new life of mine.

She is sweetness wrapped in strength,
kindness anchored in quiet resolve.

She is not just a sister-in-law.
She is Nne Ọha—
mother of many,
beloved by all,
the woman whose heart
has made my journey
infinitely lighter.

• Mary Mba (Ph.D.)