UNDERCOVER

My mother named me, when I was born. She gave me a name, and it means “the comforter”. When a child is born, like in most African cultures the name of a child must have meaning,

descriptive of the situation your parent have gone through or hopes they have for their child.

My name comes from the fact that my mother bore my sister first instead of a son. Having a girl child as a first born was shunned. Hence, it was a difficult 3 years until I was born, and voilà it was a son, the comforter of her life.

Needless to say, I am more like my mother than my father and my sister more my father than my mother.

There were times in our lives when we hung to every word our mothers said to us. If there was a word of God made incarnate, it was my mother’s voice. I clung to every word she said, and did as she asked.

The people she liked, I liked too.

The food she loved, I loved too. If my mother cried, I cried too and if she was sad I was sad with her.

I think a large chunk of our untainted memories involve the woman who love or loved us unconditionally, the woman we call our mother figures.

For 9 months we lived through and off them in their wombs. Even as adults our world view and temperaments are shaped mainly by our mothers. How we handle our problems, how we treat others, how empathetic we are,

is because of that woman who had sleepless nights when we were sick. That woman who heard your first words, that woman who saw you crawl and walk for the first time.

That woman, that picked you up every time you fell.

I see it befitting and proper that we celebrate Mother’s Day as the mother of all days in our lives. In happiness, sickness, crazy moments, come rain, thunder or shine, our MOTHERS will always be our mothers.

Happy Mother’s Day to all the woman all over the world!!

Love

Munya