Being a Mother

I am missing my mum. When I told her that, she gave a wan smile and was silent. I knew why she smiled , both of us understood that, you see, we had not started really talking properly to each other until a few years back. We only had angry whispering conversations before . Both of us were confused then, it took her a long time before she could tell me about being jealous of me.
I was shocked when I learnt that one could be jealous about one’s own child. I was close to my dad. She accepted it as a natural thing and was even happy about it for me, but we left her out of the circle. She had left my father when she could no longer come to terms with her pain. When we finally talked about it, I understood the meaning of jealousy. I had felt left out sometimes too by my own children when they will discuss me, make their own plans and rarely considered putting me in the picture.
I used to fantasize being able to tell Dr. Phil if he has ever wondered about women like me who live in a completely different world. I mean for people like him we might as well live on Mars. Hey, might be a good idea for a study.
I am from a village you have never heard of before, if someone dropped you there, you would be well and truly lost. I have this awful habit of just wandering around in my head. Quite a lot of space and rooms. You know some doors are shut tight, I know what is behind some of the shut doors but it is not the day to talk about them. Okay before you give up on me altogether, I was telling you about me missing mum. Thank heavens I still remember. I have been known to carry on a conversation and never really finish it. It used to irritate my husband no end. He says while what I am saying might make sense when and if I finally get round to finishing it…okay alright, no need for you to sigh. What was I saying? Yeah, me missing my mum. I said it before, why did I miss her? ..Oh okay, might have to pause for a nanosecond…
We were talking you know and she said something about being jealous of me and dad right? Okay got it.
Can you be jealous of your child? Feel left out in a closed out relationship? I go through that you know. First was the extreme happiness of looking at those tiny fingers, making a silent vow to be everything to the child. You dream, you ache and your heart lifts when the child calls you ‘mama’. Those first steps, the first fall, first day at school and your dreams balloon out of shape as your heart feels too small to contain all your excitement and you whisper your love for your child softly to yourself. It is bigger than having a secret love affair. “this is my baby” you tell yourself and you feel you just owned the planet. You are a mother now.
It is not important if your husband is thinking of a second wife or in my mother’s case they were already two other women sharing him with her. Those nights when he gave you his wicked smile and asks you to share his bed, you must hold your breath and release it slowly so as not to show you are excited. Feels indecent for village women to show they can enjoy lovemaking.
In the tradition, you are expected to be cool, calm and reticent when your husband reaches for you or else you are suspected of being flirty and thus not to be trusted. Stay quiet under him and should you feel like exploding, sigh and turn your face to the side. Who ever heard of a village woman having an orgasm?. That word never existed, good girls don’t show their feelings. I stared and groaned, “mother, please, you mean you felt love for my dad”? I asked her shocked and suddenly irritated. I stared at her wonderingly, suddenly feeling guilty as well. I am a product of my village too.
Did she feel jealous of me as a mate, I mean as co-wife? My thoughts were riotous, could you be jealous of your own child? I was about to say no, when I remembered my reactions to my own children each time they came home on holidays and showed preference to stay with their older sister. My sudden sense of being alone, feeling used and dumped. I remember my eldest daughter’s confusion and pain as she wondered if she was doing something wrong. I understood , when we are asked to share what we never owned. We could not possess the child, it was right to love, it is however greater to let the child go when it is time to for the child to fly out of the nest.
So I gave my mum a real prayer of love and gently unknotted one more thread and strengthened my prayer for her. Her smile brightened and I felt the glow from the door in my mind as I closed it gently, our conversation today at an end. Mother passed fifteen years ago.


So many things has been happening that I have been wondering where to start because basically I need to share my thoughts. I have not been around on my blog for a long time.
You could say it was some kind of lethargy when suddenly you feel swamped by all that has been happening. We have lived helplessly for a year wondering how a group of people for no reasonable reason will abduct hundreds of girls and take them over into a Never- Never of neither alive nor dead.
We agonized over their fate, I couldn’t pick a religion that would justify it and I stayed numb and dumb for that length of time. There was the silent terror filled days of a looming election. It is like when you plan for an event a wedding or something. In my corner of the world, after all you have bought for food and drinks, the wise event planner quietly asks around for a competent rain man to ensure that it does not rain on the planned day. You don’t want to have your day wasted by the rain do you? So no matter how dark and heavy the rainclouds are, you have put your money on the rain man to ensure that not one drop disturbs your fun. So you see the merry makers look at the sky, shrug and continue with their fun, then the wind starts to blow the clouds away. The event planner smiles and thumbs up the rain man who is ensconced in his easy chair, simply nods his head like the proverbial lizard who just fell off the roof shaken by his good fortune.
Those who loved eating monkeys and wild life had an enforced re-think when Ebola visited and we were all learned again the value of cleanliness. I personally called it the revenge of the monkeys. We had locals who loved bats and monkeys being given a wide berth. It was not funny so please take the grin off your face. Hey, did I tell you about the strange illness that suddenly afflicted a portion of the state I lived in. There were so many versions I had trouble following. One version was that a local shrine had been violated by greedy arte fact hunters and the resident god of that shrine wasn’t having any of that, so the victims had headaches, went blind and pronto dropped dead all within hours. The government waded in and swiftly invited international health organizations. The governor explained that the strange ailment was not Ebola and scientists and doctors were investigating. While we waited the rumour mill went into over drive, like Alice in wonderland it got curiouser and curiouser.
Now my experiences was recently topped by the call of the king of the Zulus to send fellow Africans packing. They didn’t just say it, they were violent about it. Shops belonging to fellow Africans were looted and the ugly head of racism was brought in when a president of another African country noted that it was only in South Africa that an unemployed illiterate will complain that a fellow educated African doctor was depriving him of a job. I couldn’t laugh . It was painful.
I am not black by the way. I am a shade of brown taking the hue of mother Earth. Like all human beings who are presently seen as homo sapiens, my blood is red, my tears white or actually liquid, and fellow dwellers on Mother Earth are shades of pink, or yellow or red. We all five senses, cry when hurt, carry the ability to be wise or stupid or become fixated over colour, the Devil is dark as in a concept excluding light and Angels are radiations. A white person has lost a lot of life force that is blood and is described by all human beings as pale not white, a ghost is without form and has no skin colour but takes form and occupies space shot through with light hence it can pass through the space in walls and doors. That for me simplifies things, has science been able to show that the brain of an African is configured in a way that renders him incapable of basic intelligence? Until that can be proven, we should hold our peace and see if we call qualify to be true homo sapiens..expectedly wise.
Who knows I might have something interesting to say next time.

Did I tell you about the mysterious disease ravaging a section of my world.? There were so many versions