“Happy Mother’s Day, mummy,” I scream at the phone excitedly.
“Oooooowwwww, thank you, dear, I was waiting for your call.” She states on the other end of the call. “When are you coming to visit? I will make you some chapatis.” She continues. My mother always lures me home with the promise of her love-filled, soft, and tasty chapatis. While I don’t need a bribe to visit my parents, the promise of home-cooked meals is enticing. It makes me want to drop everything and rush home.
“As soon as I get an entire weekend free, I’ll come home. Unfortunately, I am on shift and I have to go but enjoy your day mom, I love you,” I say, finalising the call.
“I love you too, my daughter. Let’s talk soon, and God bless you.” She says while hanging up. I grin from ear to ear, and my colleagues can’t help but laugh, and I don’t mind. Whenever I am around my mother or talk to her, my inner child comes out to play. It doesn’t matter how old I am, Mom will always be Mom, and I will always be her baby; that I know for sure.
This has not always been the case, though; there was a season when I wanted nothing to do with her. It has been a long time coming. For years, we were in a long-standing feud, a complicated love-hate relationship.
It was during my high school years; I was a young girl with newfound freedom and a little sense of independence. My body was developing, my mind was awakening, and I felt like a young woman in bloom. With it came a sassy, nasty attitude, a foul mouth and a hostility channelled at my mother. Teenage idiocy!
My idea of independence and her idea of protection always clashed, leaving us at a standstill. I felt she was restricting my freedom because I couldn’t go out without her permission or approval, and whenever I asked, the answer was always no. I couldn’t go hang out with my friends; instead, I was expected to study, do my house chores, and take care of my younger siblings. At that age, I could care less about all that, I only wanted to be with my friends.
Therefore, I would sneak out to attend parties and hangouts with my friends, then play dumb whenever she caught me. As a result, I was constantly grounded and punished for breaking the rules, which made me rebel even further. It was as if my sole mission on this earth was to get on her nerves. Push her buttons and fight her at every turn. I would talk back with a sassy attitude, and she would chase after me with a slipper in hand. Many were the nights when this cat-and-mouse act was played. It warms my heart thinking about it now.
When the boys came calling, my mother tightened the leash. I was not allowed to talk to boys or hang out with them while unsupervised. Boys were my mother’s worst fear: they could get me pregnant and destroy my life. And so, she went to great lengths to ensure I was well protected. As soon as I hit puberty, mom drew a line with all my childhood male friends. It didn’t matter whether we were neighbours, close family friends or former classmates; in her eyes, they were all a threat, and so they were treated.
As expected, it only made me rebel even worse. I remember a time when my mother beat the crap out of me with a broom when she found me talking and laughing with the boy next door after chasing him away with said broom. I remember feeling so angry about the matter and not speaking to her for two weeks.
Another time, I found her threatening another boy with imprisonment, stating that I was a minor and he should stay away from me. The poor boy must have been traumatised. I didn’t understand then that this was her own way of protecting me, and I can say she did a good job, perhaps too good a job.
Today, as a single, childfree woman, I have profound respect for my mother. At my age, she had a family, two children and a job, while I can barely keep myself together. At 16, I thought she did not know anything, but now I know she knows everything. And in her own way, she still protects me.
“Nyambura, when are you getting married?”
“Nyambura, a child is good, it is a blessing from God.”
“Nyambura, you mean in that Nairobi you don’t have someone?”
“Nyambura, when are you bringing your special friend?”
Oh! How times have changed. She is now pushing me towards boys! Our disagreements and fights are now centred on my not having a boyfriend or on my failure to show up for an ‘unplanned’ blind date. The irony! Her biggest worry now is that I may end up alone, so to protect me, she nudges me towards family life. This way, at the very least, I will have someone taking care of me.
Well, whether marriage, family and children will happen for me, that’s something that only time can tell. Until then, I will latch on to my parents a little tighter. I will pick up their call, visit them on a whim, make more memories and let them know I am doing just fine.
Knowing you can always go home and find someone with open arms waiting for you is such an underrated blessing. If you do, don’t just wait for Mother’s Day to celebrate her. Make it your daily mission and purpose in life to let your mother know how much you love and care for her.
Happy Mother’s Day ♥
Mourine Warui is a media and communication expert and seasoned writer. Her goal is to empower and offer solutions to everyday girl’s problems while provoking candid and authentic conversations. Other goals are to provide inspiration and entertainment to readers through creative, thought-provoking and edgy stories.
