As the days were fast approaching, 30 days exactly before her big day, Nchimunya could not help but wonder what it would be like to be addressed as a “Mrs” and be a mother. Anxiety was getting the best of her, the previous week, the world over was celebrating Mother’s Day. She imagined herself being celebrated in 2027, hopefully after giving birth to her first child. Is motherhood all about breastfeeding and having a little one following you everywhere in the home, is it about being addressed as mummy?

In the African perspective, “mother” is a distinct female category, her prominence is mostly related to her centrality in the family. Because of her permanent connection to the children, she is consequently at the centre of the economy and spirituality of the family. The body and soul of the family rests in the mother’s hand.

Customs and traditions and the language we speak are passed down to us through our mothers. In most homes, mothers have the role of keeping the family together while the man ensures the home is safe. Even though roles are being revised in modern times, where both the mother and father are providers of safety and finances, the role of passing on knowledge and language has not shifted as the woman or mother still remains a primary care giver in the early stages of a child’s life. A woman will transfer the customs and traditions of society to the children. The mother defines the first language a child is exposed to and this is the language the child will understand first and speak.

A mother’s love as a universal emotion can be the strongest as well as the most sounding trait of a human relationship. It is widely idealised as an untainted love, the deepest respect, a selfless action, and an instinct to guard. A mother secretly cries out all night on her pillow and wakes up like all is well the next day. She will wipe her tears after a knock on the door and attend to visitors and children like all is well. She walks into the bathroom broken but comes out composed. Falls apart as soon as she gets into her car to drive to work and arrives composed. Breaks down on the bus as she is getting back home and when asked, says she just received a funeral message and walks home composed after disembarking from the bus. She folds laundry in tears and does a really good job. She only breaks down when the whole household is asleep because she cannot afford her children seeing a broken version of her.

Juggling school runs, packing lunch boxes, ensuring dinner is ready on time, there is food for tomorrow, school fees are paid, children have warm clothing. She eats less not because she’s dieting but because she wants the entire household to get a share.

She taught us how to walk, how to pray, how to be kind. She held our back and believed in us when no one else did. She will always have our back and no one knows us better than she does.

She stuck around to take care of her children and avoid a broken home even when the whole neighbourhood laughed at her because her husband was caught on top of someone but she bravely bore the shame. When he lost his job, squandered his benefits and left her with 8 children, she learned to hustle and bake scones at witching hours to support her children and ensure they did not get interrupted with their education.

She allowed herself to fall pregnant at the risk of her life, 5 daughters and the doctor warned her that it was risky due to the high blood pressure she developed during pregnancy but he wanted a son and so she kept trying till child number 8 and heaven looked down with favour on her and gave her the son. But she learned that during those trying years, he was also trying outside and brought those 4 children for her to raise in the 3 roomed apartment and she accepted them.

But who really is a mother? A mother is an untold treasure, a gift the heavens gave to mother earth. A gem that shines even on the darkest days. A healing balm that soothes our pain, a voice that takes away fear and doubt. A voice of reason that knows us too well. A woman whose touch makes us smile, for she gave her our first tickle. A mother is strength in flesh, she is our first friend, our best friend who wishes us the best version of ourselves. A mother is one in whose eyes we never grow old.

A mother battles with sleep when her child is unwell, she becomes robotic until the child’s fever goes away. Her presence alone is healing. Her beatings are life’s lessons, her stare is a message, her smile and embrace is magical. Her cooking skills are more than a 3 star Michelin chef. When she cooks, you do not get full but simply stand because you know you need to stop eating at some point. She will do any work to put food on the table and through thick and thin, she provides for her home. She teaches her children the value of respect and dignity. She teaches love in the way she cares and loves the family.

To the mothers, you are the soil where our roots began, the silent architect of all that we are. Your love was our first breath, your heartbeat the first sound we knew. Your comfort reminds that there is a God and creator somewhere. You have held us, fed us, grounded us through every season of our lives, may we never forget you in our times of plenty, may we always remember our roots and need no reminder to take care of you, may supporting you never seem or feel like a burden because that is our loving duty to our mothers.

To those who have lost their mothers, may all your actions be what would make her proud. And to every woman who is an auntie, a sister, a mom, a grandmother, every female mentor, teacher; we are grateful for every sacrifice, every prayer and every form of love you have given us.

Special shout out to our Queen, Veorance Musheke Kakula, we love you aka-nana, more than words can say.

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