An ode to mothers, everywhere

I call this month, Mother’s May, in dedication to all mothers, and all the intricacies of motherhood I have come to learn. The first, being a parent is so much more difficult than I ever imagined; it is by far the hardest job, with the worst pay, and the longest hours out there. Objectively, not a lot of things going for it.

And while, as an older sibling, I often joke about already being given a masterclass on having kids (I have though), there is still so much more that I don’t, and just may never know. This month, particularly Mothers Day, reminded me that there are so many sacrifices our mothers have to make, right from giving up their bodies for us to be alive, to their time, their energy, their thoughts and prayers, for us to be where we are today.

Now, let me take you back a bit. To Mother’s Day, Sunday May 8th 2022. For me, the day started off with a visit to church, and if you know anything about me, you know I love my Sunday church services. The sermon for the day was about the woman in the Bible who was visited by Elijah, and was asked for a piece of bread when she was down to her last handful of flour and drop of olive oil.

“I am gathering a few sticks to take home and make a meal for myself and my son, that we may eat it—and die”, she says in response. [1Kings 17:12]

Chilling, right? But because she worked by faith, she reaped, and her jar never ran dry. Sitting in the congregation that Sunday, with my palm clutching my mother’s, I felt a tightening when the verse was read. I realised, as with so many Bible scriptures, this was not some distant parable but a biography, a non-fiction tale that was unraveling right before my eyes.

In that moment, it became very clear to me how often my mother felt like the lady in the parable, putting me and my sister ahead of herself, while walking by faith across paths she couldn’t quite see. Over lunch that day, we talked about her experiences with raising us, her takeaways from being a mother and, between the sobs and sniffles, I was reminded of truly how much she had sacrificed for us. As a child, you never really stop to think about how much has been laid aside for you, but now in my adult (can you believe it? adult) age, I saw things in vivid technicolour.

“It takes a village to raise a child”. This African proverb also came alive to me this Mother’s Day. On my trip back to Ghana, I was greeted by, sheltered and guided by my family, so many who extended their love to me. But no one embodied this more than my very own Sister Adwoa.

The three months I spent in Accra, was under her watchful eye; Sister Adwoa who didn't have to be everywhere but always seemed to know everything. It's so funny how our mother(s) often know us, even more than we know ourselves; if there were a day I was too tired, or frustrated, or hungry, even at my prehistoric age, Sister Adwoa would know it before I did.

But beyond my ‘sister’, my extended family too walked with me every step of the way. Aunty Abena, who took me to see the high end of Accra, who inspired me to dream, to believe that the finer things in life were in my grasp as long as I worked for it. Aunty Lydia, who showed me there is nothing wrong with working hard and playing hard, celebrating in the Ghanaian way, unapologetically, at every moment she got. Aunty Adwubi who took it upon herself to organise a birthday lunch in my honour, and celebrated it almost as much as I did. And to my grandmother, who always knew just when to call, always inviting me home, and had a bowl full of hot rice and stew whenever I accepted her invitations. That trip, I was cushioned by motherly love in every way imaginable, and for that I became truly grateful.

People often say we never quite realise things until they’re gone. While that is often the case, this Mother’s day has allowed me to see things about my mother(s) I had not seen before. May 8th 2022, reminded me to cherish them while I could, to cry tears of joy and reminiscing, and not of grief and hoping for a time that could have been.

And if you, my dear reader, have ever lost a mother, or a mother figure, felt her absence even more these last few weeks, I would like to especially send you all my love and prayers. As someone who has lost a grandmother, a true mother in my life, I know how verklempt you might feel. But I want you to remember in all things, you are not alone. Seek to surround yourself with your other mothers, those who've taken the form of grandmothers, of aunts, of sisters and even of fathers, and cherish them, while you still can. Our mothers may not be around, but we can still celebrate the ones who are.

Taking a quote from a poet, Joseph Sikazwe, who I recently had the pleasure of encountering: “

Hug your mother, hug your loved ones and bask in their presence. Because truly, the last lesson they teach us is how to live without them”

This year, Amani and I did an impromptu spring cleaning session and breakfast in bed as a Mother’s day gift, and for such a small act, you would not imagine how happy my mother was. It was a sign that we, as her kids, do not do nearly enough to show her our gratitude. So from that day forward, and I hope you, my readers, would join me, I hope to show those around me how much I love and appreciate them. A simple act of kindness goes such a long way, and no one deserves it more than our mothers.

This month is dedicated to all the mothers out there: our superstars, our providers and our best friends. It's a cliche that has rang from BoyzIIMen to Tupac, but a cliche that would never change.

And it's my mama’s birthday today! Everybody say happy birthday to my mama!