Mama

That special woman in my life. She has always been around, my memories –the good (she secretly got me  my first phone even when dad didn’t want me to have  one then!)and bad (Eeeer, really bad…), have her hovering on the background like a guardian angel. She is such a special part in my life, and this piece just won’t do but I’ll try to present what a bomb she is!

Mama likes to talk- a lot. As a child I’d use phrases that my fellow kids had never heard of ‘chonde chonde’ ‘niwie radhi’ and the like which is very courteous language. And in school I did not suffer much in deciphering statements in books and exams. When we’d go out shopping- yes, she is that type of mother who would like to have a say at what I wear which was always less than her ability to bargain; she bargains even when something is being sold at the cheapest price. Her theory is ‘it can always be cheaper!’ woe unto you if you pretend to pay before she gets her head straight  number wise, goods will be returned I tell you!!

I like her talk; topics are always so variant, ooh and so much umbea! She willingly updates me from street stories- the watchman’s wife just had another child! Or someone has added a ridiculously high speed bump near our gate! Or Your aunts keep calling asking about my welfare, soon they ‘ll request money, Psssht God knows what for this time?’ Whatever her story is I get caught up in it. In my years of innocence I use to listen by silently and of course have more questions in my head. I was a child- you listen, nod and must take mam’s side of the story: if she is sympathizing, I would as well; if she is in contempt, mine had to double- for effect.

Fast forward to my adult me: I work and live out of town, something mama accepted a bit too joyously – something to do with how long I had stayed at home job hunting! Three days after I report at my duty station, I start getting whatsapp messages pinging in as if on a crash diet… ‘this house is so big, do you think I should suggest to your dad we move to an apartment?’ ‘ who will fold all this laundry you left behind?’ ‘send me pictures of your office…at lunch break (smiley face)’ ‘when I call it doesn’t go through, but you get all my whatsapps, au sio?’ *deep sigh* SOMEONE TAKE MY MOTHER TO THE MOON FOR AN HOUR!!

Yes, with all kids gone- work and school, the house is suddenly huge (it really is not!), AND she would never move out into an apartment like she wishes, why else did the husband and her build a house! As for my laundry, really…she never ventures into the girls room on the worst of days, how, why and when did she spot this mountain of fabric begging for a fold session!? Don’t get me started on the lousy service reception at my work place, something I have told her over and over….still am.

But since we have no space station in my country, nor in the neighboring one- mama stays. At the beginning I tried to respond diplomatically; it takes heart and more words myself. Now when we meet it’s as though we are in a talking context- I too try to show there is so much happening in my life YET I do not let her on all of it cause then there would be less time in a day!

I truly love her, always have…I see her in me and I love me all the more, I understand how I too take over talk and I try to tune it a notch lower. Love these mothers as they are… who knows what goes on in

their heads -and hearts, half of the time. It could be her deja vu from way  back when she was 10 and had just got a new BFF…

Ok too much talking from me and my world of imagination.

****ANONYMOUS******