You know how everyone grows up and begins to think, “how did my parents cope?” That’s me on some occasions especially when I think about my early childhood. I was a terrible eater and extra playful. I was thin and I remember being sick and being in hospital a lot for either one of these things at least once a week: it was either allergies for being negligent in the cold, malaria fever or wounds from falling off adult bikes. My very humble village family didn’t have kids bikes but I could easily come across adult bikes and my elder brother – then cousin taught me how to ride. I didn’t want to get off a bike from the moment I learnt to peddle and it drove my mother crazy.
Aside from my love for bicycles in a culture where it was believed that one could lose their virginity from riding a bicycle, I also climbed trees. This too was so unladylike in this my very conservative village. My poor mother threatened me with all sorts of possible scenerios: my head could break, my neck, legs or I could die – all very viable threats. I did break my skin but thank heavens my head, neck and bones remained intact.
One thing though I remember hurt her to the core. One day, she did not complain, advise or quarrel at me. The one thing that broke her heart was in my third class. I had got so accustomed to the environment and was beginning to feel less pressure at school. I had a clean and neat uniform, breakfast and break snacks, a nice school bag and a bad influence cousin. She did not care much for school. She was rebounding this class and it didn’t seem to weigh her down one bit. I followed her lead when she said to go out and play instead of attending classes after break or to go to my grandma’s house early and feast on some fruits and lunch even before it was lunch time. That term, a comment on my report read, “She can do better but she is too playful in class “.
My mother, seeing how I was taking for granted everything that was being handed to me from sweat and tears, walking very far from the path that she was laying before me towards the dreams she carried in her delicate heart, she was lost for words. I could see that she was disappointed in me and that alone was enough to smack my brain into steadiness. She made me sit on a mat outside our little apartment and refused any help from me and said nothing to me. The only reprimand I got was her disappointment.
I did not want this woman to ever be disappointed in me again. In fact, Everytime I thought of doing something stupid, I always thought; I can not disappoint my mother even though she lets me make my own choices and started trusting me from a young age to make the correct ones. I wanted to do everything in appreciation of her love and to live up to her expectations. I could not imagine being a failure in her eyes.
On the day I graduated from University, she appreciated me for having an independent mind and for being everything she never would have taught me. I held my own, I was a leader at all possible levels of leadership a student can achieve throughout school and she claims she had nothing to do with that. Well mum, of course you had everything to do with that. I am because you are. You taught me to think and you listened to me even when I didn’t speak much. You took on responsibilities that were not even your obligation when you decided to change your parents’ house the best way you could with every penny you had. You offered counsel to my elder cousins and I listened attentively as you told them education was our way out. Everytime you sent me off to boarding school with my brother you said we were going away from home with everything you could possibly give and if there was anything more you’d give it.
Thanks mummy for not giving up on me even when I was not very easy to raise to the point when I started making you a bit proud.
Mother dear. 