Before IMMOWA, many immigration wives existed in silos.
Each one in her own state, her own neighbourhood, her own four walls… carrying a life that very few people around her truly understood.
It was a hot Tuesday morning in Enugu State.
A group of women arrived at a local school with supplies, smiles, and a purpose.
They were not politicians. They were not celebrities.
We talk a lot about borders.
The checkpoints. The patrol. The officers standing guard between Nigeria and what lies beyond.
But national security does not begin at the border.
There are seasons in this life that test everything.
The posting that comes at the worst possible time. The month the salary is delayed. The school event he misses again. The night you wake up at 3am and the worry is louder than usual.
Nobody warned her about the mental load.
Not the physical work… she had prepared for that.
But the constant mental hum.
She had not done something just for herself in eight months.
Eight months of school runs, cooking, cleaning, managing, waiting, worrying, and showing up.
She did not realise how stressed she was until the day she sat down to help her son with his homework… and burst into tears over a maths problem.
Not because of the maths.
They met at an IMMOWA support group in 2019.
Amaka from Anambra. Fatima from Kaduna. Blessing from Rivers State.
Three women from completely different backgrounds, cultures, and languages…
Officer Adeyemi got posted to a new state on a Thursday.
By Sunday, his wife Kemi had packed the children, sorted the house, and was already on her way to join him at the new posting.
She almost gave up on her business idea.
The numbers weren’t working. The customers weren’t coming. And her confidence was at its lowest.
She mentioned it casually at an IMMOWA gathering… not even expecting a response. Just needed to say it out loud.