By Musa Hassan Bility ·
Around 2019 and 2020, I began returning home more frequently. For nearly thirty years, I had been disconnected from my hometown and many of the communities that shaped my childhood. Coming home was not simply about returning to a place. It was about reconnecting with my mother.
I began picking up the pieces of her life and retracing her footsteps. I traveled through towns and villages, meeting people who had known her and listening to their stories. Each person who remembered my mother gave me a small part of her back.
One of the strongest and most committed people I worked with is Yar White, Deelay’s granddaughter. One day, she came to me and said, “Mr. B, my grandmother is always talking about you. She says she knew your mother very well.”
I immediately said, “Let us go and see her.”
From the moment I met Deelay, she became more than an elder to me. She sat me down and began telling me stories about my mother. She remembered her so clearly and spoke about her with such warmth and affection that, for those precious moments, I felt as though my mother had returned and was sitting right in front of me.
Apart from one other elder who has also passed away, I had never met anyone who knew so much about my mother. Every time I returned to Nimba and visited Deelay, I felt as though I was seeing my mother again. Her presence made me long for home. She gave me a reason to keep coming back.
Whenever I entered her living room, she would eventually take me into her bedroom, sit me down, and advise me. Those private moments became some of the most treasured moments of my life.
Before the election, she said something to me that I will carry for the rest of my life.
She said, “Some people in this town may not vote for you, but you will win the election. When you win, never make them feel that you hold anything against them. Your future will be yours either to build or to destroy. Promise me that you will never seek revenge against anyone simply because they opposed you.”
Interestingly, the two elders closest to my mother, who reminded me most of her, gave me the same advice.
I have tried to live by those words every day. When I meet people who opposed me yesterday, I remember Deelay’s counsel. God gives me strength, and my heart remains free. I do not carry hatred, bitterness, or a desire for revenge. That lesson came from her, and through her, I believe it also came from my mother.
I must also honor Deelay’s family. They loved her and cared for her so beautifully. She was always clean, comfortable, and surrounded by dignity. She was never neglected. She was treasured, protected, and cared for as an elder should be. I am deeply proud of her family for the love they gave her until the very end.
Her passing has taken something irreplaceable from me. As those who personally knew my mother continue to leave this world, the journey of life becomes lonelier. With Deelay’s passing, I feel as though another living part of my mother has disappeared. In many ways, I am losing my mother for a second time.
As we lay her to rest and I walk away knowing that I will never again enter her living room, follow her into her bedroom, sit beside her and listen to her counsel, my heart is unbearably heavy.
But I also know that she has reached her place of rest. I believe her spirit will continue to watch over me, guide me and strengthen me. Her life reminds me of where I come from. She reminds me of the strength and perseverance of our people, the enduring spirit of Nimba that may be tested but will never be broken.
I have lost many people and many things in life, but losing Deelay has taken so much from me. Her home, her embrace, her comfort, and the few precious minutes she gave me whenever I visited meant more than I could ever properly explain.
Deelay, thank you for every story. Thank you for every word of counsel. Thank you for every embrace and every reassuring pat on my back. Most of all, thank you for giving my mother back to me each time I sat beside you.
Life must go on, even when the heart is not ready. Today, I must let you go, but I will never let go of your memory.
Goodbye, Deelay.
Until we meet again.