IN MEMORY OF MY MOTHER

Exactly 9 years ago, today, an event happened that changed my life forever. I mean that in every sense of it. That event changed my ambition, my perception about life, my security, my personality, and my values.

My mum died while giving birth, he could have been my only brother. Yes, I grew up in a girl hostel. Maybe that explains my laziness and my voice.

My mum had been a remarkable woman, successful in everything she did. She was an astute businesswoman who was deeply committed to her Savior. You see, the proverbs that “I was raised by three testaments of the Bible; the Old Testament, the New Testament and my Mother” are true for me. Mother was the words of the Bible, living. She was an elder in the church for many years, she was involved in many activities from Choir to Women Fellowship to Girls Brigade to Sabon Rai and to other subcommittees with the church. Yes, my mother never went beyond primary school for her education but she was committed to learning. She pursued an unschooled learning path, learning to read and write in the process. And don’t tell my Father this, I inherited my intelligence from my mother. (Laughing)  Mother was not just mother to me, she was mother to all the community. She took everyone under her wing, she cared for many people that she could and she made sure to be at peace with everyone. But forget it, mother was a lion. Bold, vocal and highly reactive. She would trash you with words and with her cane. When it came to her punishments, the statue of justice was truly blind.

Growing up, I watched mother cater for people who were not her children. We ALWAYS had someone who was living with us who was not our biological relative. There were countless times she gave people money, food from her business, clothes and other items for free. I remember one particular time that we traveled to the village together, mother went house to house and as she entered each home she had a package for each of them. Every single home we entered had a gift, and boy, the homes were many. There are many incidents like that, from people coming to our home to beg for food and advice. Yes, mother was like a mini counsellor. People trusted her with their problems, they came to her. One particular had gotten married to a man who was irresponsible, and the wife couldn’t get him to provide anything for the home. Mother helped her set up a business and encouraged her to save. She saved. Mother encouraged her to build a house. She did. Today, that woman lives in that house with her husband. Every day I pass the street, that woman called me “Father”, believing I have a duty to be the kind of “father” that my mother was.

Yes, my mother was father even at home. When she died, the worse hit person was my father. I had never seen my father cry and since then I have never seen him again. He cried like a child, he wept for this woman who was his backbone. You see, during my childhood, my dad did not feature in my life. In fact, even in the family. My dad gave everything to my mum. Everything. He understood and knew that she was a brilliant, tactical, and wise woman. Each month that my dad collected his salary, he would come home and give my mum everything. Everything. He did that right up to the time she died. Each time those people came to my home for advice, it was mostly to my mother, not necessarily my dad. She was the dominant figure and IT WAS BEAUTIFUL. My mum’s dominance was not a result of my dad’s weakness, in fact, I will learn many years later that he had dominated during the first few years of their marriage. But as they stayed together, the role shifted. He found in her a treasure he will find nowhere else, and he loved her. I still wonder at the beauty of their marriage.

Yes, not all those people who came for advice turned out very well. A particular family that I still keep in touch with have broken up. My mum was the last glue that was holding things together when she left, the family broke apart. I don’t believe my mum was a magician who could have totally turned things around but I firmly believe things may likely be different.

It was those acts of mother that sowed in me the desire to live that. Honestly, I didn’t know it then. “Life must be lived forwards, but it must be understood backward”.

When she died, the whole secured world we had built came crashing. When the Head of State dies, it will not be surprised if things scatter for a while. The next few years were the most tumultuous of my life. I honestly didn’t think I will survive it. There was a point I contemplated suicide. You see, my mum had provided all the good things of life for us when she was alive. When she died, all of those things began to become hard to get, that’s because the primary source was her businesses. We couldn’t maintain the business, dad was a policeman. His orientation was one that earned and gave to the mother immediately. Although I was mostly absent from home, each time I returned, the changes were obvious. We became poorer by the day. By poor, I do not mean we had no food to eat. In fact, my dad was committed to two things in our life. Our education and our feeding. He believed, and I do too, that education was the tool that could change our lives. He ensured that we attended the best schools! The best. Even when it was very expensive and he could barely afford it. But you see, poor for a person who was used to having candies, biscuits, a lot of money was a different thing. Once stretched to a new lifestyle, it is difficult to go back to old shape. Even at that, my dad tried very hard to provide some of those sweet things.

During these periods, my mind and world were changing. I was seeing the world in a new light. I was experiencing the world. When my mother died, I hated everything. I didn’t want to see anyone. I didn’t want to talk to anyone. I usually hide in Mama Goma’s home, in Zingit’s room particularly. Then, I would just stay there and wonder at why it had to be her, why couldn’t God have taken me with her? What did He me to do without her? Mum had been my world. It was a love for an only son, rich and rigged. I didn’t want to see tomorrow, I thought that I can’t live in tomorrow. What was the world without mother? How can anything make sense? How can death be this real? One day during those wanderings, I saw a Bible that had concordance in the room. I decided to check for the references of the word “Death”. What I found was one of the first altering’s that God was placing in my path.  

“For this corruptible must put on incorruption, and this mortal must put on immortality. 

So when this corruptible shall have put on incorruption, and this mortal shall have put on immortality, then shall be brought to pass the saying that is written, Death is swallowed up in victory. 

O death, where is thy sting? O grave, where is thy victory? 

The sting of death is sin; and the strength of sin is the law. 

But thanks be to God, which giveth us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ. 

Therefore, my beloved brethren, be ye stedfast, unmoveable, always abounding in the work of the Lord, forasmuch as ye know that your labour is not in vain in the Lord. “ 1 Corinthians 15:53-58

For dying in Jesus, mother had only changed address. In that room, alone, I understood this scripture in a profound way. Mother had died in Jesus, and for that she had only gone home. I vowed to myself to follow the same path. Jesus had my mother, and I wanted to see her again. In order to reach my mother, Jesus was the address. Getting to that address was life’s new meaning.

So first, I came to Jesus not because He loved me, but because I was finding mother. Seeking her took me to God.

As the years pass by, it became clear to me that for me, my life was always be defined by the exit of that beautiful soul. If she were here, I would be very different. Very different.

My dad stepped up the challenge, he catered for us. And got married along the way. As with all new marriages in this circumstances, it has been with its troubles. First, you see, as the only son, people generally expected I would be the head-ache in the house, in fact, people encouraged me to be. But I could not, it was against what I had seen in the scriptures and what I believed. There were times I was hurt, there were times I was angry, there were times I felt like beating all of them in the house, in all of those times, I found the strength to forgive. By forgiving every time, I became the coolhead and CPU in the house. Everyone, mother (step mum), father, and my sisters trusted me that I was only REALLY looking out for everyone. Of course, even in a home, especially in one like this, there will be a lot of interest.

I had an emotional conversation with both mother (step mum) and father, it was over a major life decision I was taking. At first, they were tensed over the decision I was taking but as talked with them they came around and became cheerers.  In the process, it opened up an opportunity to say some thoughts they had. They appreciated me for being the coolhead and for supporting them. They were deeply grateful, especially mother. As I walked to my room, I wondered about what mother would think of me and for all I had done to give her husband support to establish a new home, even though it was without her. I was convinced, convinced beyond doubt, that she would be happy. I knew she was up there, blessing me and grateful that I turned out exactly as she hoped it would be. Yes, my family has its issues, but being here, experienced this and still trying to thrive in the world is a gift I had learnt from mother. One of the most repeated lessons from my mum was “You are not allowed to cheat anyone in this life. Let people cheat you. But do not cheat them. It is always glorious to be on the right side”.

Today is 9 years since mother changed her address. I know she sees all the challenges we’ve been through, I know she sees how we are struggling to establish a balanced home in her absence and I know she’s routing for us, waiting for when we can join her, this time for forever.

And I am too, that same address is my life’s goal.

There’s always that mental pressure to remember how much I miss my mother, and how much life would be beautiful with her in it. I truly miss her, deeply. I used to write letters to her every year, I stopped in 2019. I know that the best way to honour mother is to live the kind of life she pointed me to, a life in Jesus. I am trying to. I will not look back with sadness, I am grateful she lived and she was my mother!

One day, I will see you again Mama. It will be for forever!