How hospitals rejected my mum till she died — Ex-Shina Peters’ dancer Tessy Yembra’s daughter

On May 27, the Nigerian entertainment industry lost yet another famous personality in the person of Tessy Yembra to the cold hands of death. Yembra was a popular society figure, who came into the limelight with her dance steps in the Fuji Garbage and Afro Juju videos of Chief Sikiru Ayinde Barrister and Sir Shina Peters respectively, among others. Unfortunately, she passed on at a time the world was on lockdown and she could not make the urgent contacts she needed to make with her friends. Her daughter, Dolapo Beckley, spoke with PAUL UKPABIO about her last moments and how the death of her two major benefactors aided her journey into early grave.

OUR mother was very popular, but not many people seemed to know what part of Nigeria she hailed from…

My mum was an Urhobo woman. She hailed from Delta State.

If you were asked to describe her, what would you say?

She was a down-to-earth person; loving, caring and kindhearted. She was so full of life. There was never a dull moment with her. She always wanted to give her all.

She always wanted to make both the rich and the poor happy. She loved children a lot, so it was not a surprise that she died on Children’s Day.

She wanted peace to reign around her. She took no nonsense from anybody and would tell you her mind straightaway, no matter who you are.

If you offended her, she would tell you, “Ah, you made me mad yesterday. But I have to tell you my mind. Don’t bother; you are still my brother, you are still my sister.” She was unique.

Your mother had a way of making friends easily. Tell us about some of her long lasting friendship that you know of.

Maybe it was her personality, her character. Anyone who saw her just seemed to like her. They just loved her person, her livelihood, everything about her. People wanted to be friends with her because of her aura. People just love her naturally.

She had friendship that lasted over decades with people like Chief Dupe Jemibewon, who she used to call Sister Dupe. She had very long lasting friendship with Sir Shina Peters and his wife Sammie.

I remember the late Senator Isiaka Adeleke and his family; she loved them with all her heart. She was willing to travel miles with them at a moment’s notice to participate in whatever they were doing.

She loved them, and was always the preferred event anchor person at her society friends’ parties.

She was a special friend of the late Iyalode Adunni Bankole; a friendship that many admired and it brought her more friends. She was able to be friends to all these people even when they were in different classes. Aisha Guobadia was also close to her, and many more. She loved them and was so full of life. She always wanted to be happy and for people around her to be happy too.

People say the death of Senator Isiaka Adeleke, the ex-governor of Osun State, affected her. What can you say about that?

It affected her a lot because they were good friends. When she heard the news of the death of that man, it was like a major thing happened to her.

While they were both alive, my mother liked going to Adeleke’s hometown in Ede. She called him ‘Gov.’ Most times, wherever ‘Gov’ was, it was likely she would be there. He always had one work or the other for her to do.

And her friendship with the family was not limited to ‘Gov’. It extended to the wife and other members of the family. When he died, it really took a toll on her.

You know what the Yoruba call Alaanu (benefactor)? He was her Alaanu. When she had stroke nine years ago, it was ex-Governor Isiaka Adeleke that nursed her to good health.

He deliberately made sure that he nursed her to good health. He paid all her bills and he was always watching out for her.

He would repeatedly tell her, Tessy, you have to always watch out for your health. You have to be careful about your health. Don’t take this, don’t take that.

He was a brother that she didn’t have. So when he died, it really affected her. It was like she didn’t care anymore! Even until her death, some of her last words were, ‘Ah, if Gov were alive, things wouldn’t have been like this for me!’

After the death of ex-Governor Adeleke, was she still going to the Adelekes’ home in Ede?

Once in a while, she used to go there to see his wife and the other members of the family. Sometimes, Uncle Demola, the Senator and brother of ‘Gov’, would call her and she would go for their events.

But it was no longer like before. His death really depressed her. My mother’s health started deteriorating after he died. She couldn’t travel up and down like she used to do. And she started dancing less and less.

There was also Otunba Feyi Winfunke. What role did he play in her life?

Oh! That too was like an elder brother to her. But he died earlier. He was the owner of Waterparks in Ikeja; a wealthy man in those days! He was also one of her benefactors.

When that one died, something in my mum died too. It was actually that night when she returned from his wake that she developed a stroke.

That was nine years ago. On the way back from that particular event, she was robbed. She got home and I comforted her.

But in the middle of the night, she woke up to go to the rest room and that was when she had a stroke. Otunba Feyi Winfunke was good to her and created business opportunities for her.

Apart from dancing and anchoring events, what else was she doing as a means of livelihood?

She used to buy and sell jewellery. She had friends who came from abroad to give her stuffs to sell. She recruited ushers for big events and supplied wine for parties.

Much earlier in life, she used to train dancers. She was also selling clothes which women wore to high society parties.

If you gave her your aso ebi (ceremonial uniform) to sell, you knew that you would reap good profit, because she would  sell to the high and mighty.

What exactly was the nature of her sickness?

She had high blood pressure. Much later, she became diabetic, but she was able to manage it properly. Things, however, took a drastic turn during this Covid-19 holiday.

All those years when she was bubbling at major parties, did she have these sicknesses?

No, she wasn’t diabetic then. But she used to have high blood pressure of which by the time she took her drugs, she would be okay. Along the line, she became diabetic.

Was she consuming much of sugar?

Of course she was! She was always at parties. When you live such a life, definitely you will have sugar issues at some point.

That is because when you are at parties most times, even if you don’t want to drink or eat cake, your friends will say take a little or are you quarrelling with us? She used to come home with cakes regularly.

Even people she has done favours for in the past send cakes to her. She would give my children those cakes and the children would force her to eat the cakes with them. So, one way or the other, she was doing sugar!

How many children did she have?

We are just two. My brother is in America.

How did he react to her death?

He felt pretty bad. I feel pretty bad too (pause). He will pull through. I will pull through too. I have to remain strong for my mother and for my children.

Did Tessy use to talk to him? Does he wish to come to Nigeria?

Yes, they often talked. She always wished him well. And occasionally, they were doing video calls. He does not want to come to Nigeria.

How many children do you have now?

I have two: a boy and a girl. It was the girl that she did birthday for recently. It was her last socials.

What does your brother in America do for a living?

He works in a supermarket. He is just managing himself.

When last did he come to Nigeria?

He has not been coming. It is almost 15 years now that he was last here.

What do you recall of your mom in her heydays when she was creating dance-steps for music videos?

She was a creative, vibrant woman. Give her a beat and she would create a dance step for it and dance her heart out! No one will see her and would not say, ‘Wow, this woman is energetic and stylish!’ And she would dance till daybreak. She was so energetic; I can’t be a match for such energy.

Which of the musicians do you remember that she worked with?

There was Monday John, Sir Shina Peters, Dele Taiwo, Obesere and the late Barrister, just to mention the few ones that I can remember now. I know that there were many more.

Did she used to tell you stories about her works with famous people?

Yes, she used to. And I was seeing them myself on television basically when I attend a few parties with her. I was living with Sir Shina Peters as far back as when I was two years old. He was the one paying my school fees then.

He took care of me. I knew my mum’s friends. I knew the people she was working with and I knew that it was her job. Early in life, I knew that was what was bringing food to the table. I was coping.

Tell us about her last one week.

She became weaker but still she pretended to be strong. I was telling her, ‘Mum, see the way you are walking; you are weak.’ When I woke in the morning I would ask her how was your night? She replied. ‘It is fair.

God will heal me.’ We would then hold hands and pray together. I took her to the General Hospital at Oguntolu, but we were told that only emergencies could be attended to.

I still ensured I bought the card and registered her. My mum never liked the atmosphere of a hospital, but she was dedicated to taking her medications.

Her case was not regarded as an emergency! I’m sorry, but just like the other bad cases that we met there, we were all told to go back home, and most of the sick people went back home to die like my mum did. (Tears welled up in her eyes, and poured forth as she forced herself to concentrate on the interview).

I refused to leave as my mum kept telling me that she was feeling awful pains all over her body. I explained to them at the hospital that my mum could not sleep. She was generally complaining of severe headache and pains all over her body.

Next, I took her to a nearby clinic on the advice of one of her friends who knew someone there. She was treated for malaria and typhoid just to give her some form of relief. She actually said she felt a little bit better. But the second day, it became worse.

So I asked her what we should do and she said she didn’t know. I called some doctors and nurses that we know around, they all suggested tests. A nurse volunteered to take us to a lab. When we got there we found that she had low blood count, like 20 per cent.

We tried to boost her blood but she was not improving. Then she became weaker. At that point, she was not sleeping again and was hardly eating. Even to drink water was a problem. She sat up for two days and could not sleep.

I told her please lets go to the hospital again; at least they will see there that it is an emergency. We got there still she was not taken in. Instead, they told us to call Covid -19 number whether they would take her in since they were the only ones that could take in people for treatment.

We called and sent texts but there was no response. A friend of hers sent in a car for us to take her to another General Hospital, but at that point, she couldn’t move her body again. Four of us carried her into the car.

She was in so much pain. We went to Gbadaga General Hospital again. When we got there, I pleaded with them but they didn’t answer me. They said why did we wait for it to get so bad before coming? I told them that I brought her but your people didn’t take her.

We left for Ikeja General Hospital. When we got there they gave us hope. They allowed us to register her, cleared a bed space for her.

Later they came back to conduct a test for her, all sorts only to tell us to take her to LUTH in Idiaraba. On our way, she stopped breathing. I beat her, she was not responding. I touched her she was still warm. I didn’t know she was dead.

At LUTH, the doctors were scared to touch her because of the Covid-19 pandemic. And when eventually they looked at her, I was told she was brain dead, no pulse and she had stopped breathing.

I asked what that meant, they said she was dead. I fainted. They revived me. That was when it dawned on me that my mother was dead and I would not see her anymore. (The Nation)