I had intended to write on a different topic for the month of November, one different from the heading you see. And I do not think that the month of November plays host to the almost quarterly occurring Mother’s Day. I had intended to write and already begun the first few paragraphs on the topic, Tough Times; how tougher the journey becomes the more we increase and grow in life and the yet ensuing benefits of the tough ride. But then I realized after a casual glance at the calendar that this was the month of November.
The month of November happens to be the birthday month of my mother. And so I decided to dedicate this month’s piece to motherhood and most especially to my mother.
Significantly, my mother happens to be a single mum – a widow. She trained and took care of myself and my brothers alone. Amidst lots and lots of struggles, she literally hustled to feed the four little giants and ensure we attended the best schools and fulfilled our hopes and aspirations. She never for once fell into amnesia of the hallowed role she was playing. At times, I mean many at times, it was glaring that she was burdened with the onerous task of being Father and Mother to four young men, who were often as obstinate as you can dare imagine. How she coped without a blink of an eye – like a soldier on duty – is a testimonial she best can tell.
Oft, we had noisome argy-bargies. For me, I was trying to be a man and have my way; for her, she was struggling to be manly, and father me into the right decisions. This benign, yet firm struggle is what watered strength, focus and a sense of direction in me today. Sadly, at those times, I never saw it that way. I saw her, rather, as the mother who didn’t understand me, who didn’t want me to play soccer, who didn’t want me to roam on the streets and ‘enjoy’ that life, or be like the every other street punk. I then, did not have the empathy to understand her battles, yet her unfettered love and phenomenal parenting.
My mother never let any of us – my brothers and I – go hungry for a day [well, except you had come late and that was you being punished]. She would say that even if she defaulted in a month or two in paying our school fees, the last thing she would ever see was any of her boys going hungry. And she has never let that happen.
She was able to use the resources she had – her education, skills, pro-activeness, and rare intelligence to make a living and give to us a not so flamboyant bourgeoisie life, but a most comfortable one. From working outside the country, to taking a career in journalism, to lecturing and starting up her NGO to support and cater for widows, orphans and vulnerable children, she taught me resilience and hard-work. Subtly, but most remarkably, she taught me charity.
When she started out her NGO, of course she hadn’t yet completely gotten over the grief of her husband’s demise, but she was able to get to the point where she appreciated widowhood; as not the end of the world, nor the beginning of disaster, rather as an opportunity to prove to humanity that hope lies in everyone even beyond tragedy.
My mother taught me prayer and the fear of God. I must say that these have been the stealth of my survival.
Since the demise of my father, she has played the role of father, mother, best-friend, confidant, girl-friend, doctor, nurse, dance-partner, lover, and adviser – everything I could ever have wanted from my parents. This month she turns 53 years old and I choose to dedicate my column to her and to all mothers around the world, to say thank you for your phenomenal love and for all that you have stood for in our lives – especially those times that we had failed to realize you were being superwoman, for our sake.
Every mother is indeed ‘guilty’ of this extraordinary love and inscrutable affection. You are the reasons why the hope of love has not dissipated from our inure world. You are our constant reminder of a glorious future and beauty even in disarray.
Your patience, kind-heartedness, believe in us and teachings, for these, and so much more that words fail their purpose to express, I say THANK YOU.
Happy Birthday Mummy!
Culled from My November Column on Comfort Life Magazine.
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