Thank You Mother

As I think of Mother's Day, I think of the relationship between my father and his mum, Mother  (as we all called her).

Growing up, there was no doubt that Mother was dear to my father. I remember our family road trips to his village, Nyinahin to visit her and spend quality time with her.

The first time I ever saw my father cry was at her funeral. Indeed, from the day we received the news of her passing ( at the age of 94), my father recoiled into his shell. I remember I had just returned from a Girl Guide camp, and  the moment I entered the house, I knew something was wrong. My usually outgoing and outspoken father was nowhere to be found. He was upstairs in his bedroom - alone.  And he stayed there for a while.

My own mother is phenomenal. She loved my grandmother as her own mother and this made it very easy for my father to shower his mother with love while she was alive.

At the one year anniversary of her death, my father recited the poem below  a gazzillion times! He kept repeating, "O woman of Africa, you who carried me at your back..."

In recent times, it has become our family tradition to recite this poem together on Mother's Day in honour of my grandmother, my mother, my sister, myself and all the amazing women breaking their backs to care for their families. This one is for you -

***

TO MY MOTHER
(an English translation by Deborah Weagel, University of New Mexico)

Black woman, African woman, O mother, I think of you …
O Dâman, O mother,
who carried me on your back, who nursed me,
who governed my first steps,
who opened my eyes to the beauties of the world, I think of you …

Woman of the fields, woman of the rivers, woman of the great river, O
mother, I think of you …

O Dâman, O mother, who wiped my tears,
who cheered up my heart,
who patiently dealt with my caprices,
how I would love to still be near you.

Simple woman, woman of resignation, O mother, I think of you.
O Dâman, Dâman of the great family of blacksmiths, my thoughts are
always of you, they accompany me with every step,
O Dâman, my mother, how I would love to still feel your warmth,
to be your child that is close to you …
Black woman, African woman, O mother, thank you; thank you for all
that you have done for me, your son, so far away yet so close to you!

Camara LAYE

** Background music - Whoman Woman by Efya

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