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The things I never told my Mother
Growing up for me was blissful. I had a father who would listen, empower and reinforce to me the fact that God fearfully and wonderfully created me. Daddy told me daily how I could be anything I wanted to be. You see, my daddy was 30 years older than my mother. He was better educated in “terms of certificates” than her and he was a greatly travelled gentleman. My mother on the flip side, was only a standard six certificate holder, from a more humble background but “a very intelligent woman” without the glory of “many paper certificates”. By virtue of the gap in their background, my mother’s mantra was…
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What I never told my mum
One of the benefits of becoming older is that we begin to acknowledge the sacrifices our parents made; putting food on the table, shelter over our heads , giving us education as they could afford and then the part we come to appreciate later, disciplining us. While I was growing up, my mother was greatly feared by myself. Being a strong disciplinarian, she did not spare the rod at all but I would not say I was beaten unnecessarily. Most times, when I got a beating, it was well deserved. One of the beatings that still remains eternally tattooed in my memory was the one I got the first…
