Mother's Day 2021

 So yesterday, Mother's Day, while Twitter, Facebook and WhatsApp were awash with celebrations and congratulations to mothers far and wide, I was learning how to re-introduce myself to my four year old. You see, when I greeted him in the morning, even as I sang our morning song, he shrank away from me. Then he threw himself on the ground, refused to look at me and started to cry. 

Later, 5 hours later, we had made our peace. I have learnt that each day is new to him. Each day, I cannot take it for granted that we will be friends. 

It also got me thinking about the choice I made to be his mother. See, I knew that motherhood requires  quite a bit of investment emotionally, mentally and financially. So, in choosing my spouse, my job (and then lack of formal employment) I was deliberate because I wanted to have the time and energy to be available to my littlings. And, above all, I want to enjoy being a mother now - not in the future when they are mature and reward me with a Mercedes. Now, before they can speak but choose to crawl up to me and cuddle in the middle of the afternoon, for no reason at all. 

A lot of the mother's day messages talk about how the mother has suffered and endured immense difficulty in order to support their children. There is a lot of truth in this, is there not? That is the image of the African woman we grew up with. 

With the sunset in the background, we spot a wiry, bone-thin yet heavily pregnant figure rising out of the dust. She carries an infant on her back, holding a toddler's hand in her left while her right hand helps her balance a large basket atop her head. The basket contains the tools of her trade - her stock if she is a petty trader, her garden tools if she's coming from the garden or a huge pile of dirty clothes from the rich woman's house at the top of the hill if she's a laundry ma'am. The toddler, on his head, carries the firewood for the evening meal and the next day's breakfast. 

She, on arrival at the home she singlehandedly built during her first pregnancy, has to clean the homestead, prepare the evening meal and clean the children before her husband returns. He, the husband, may or may not have made any money that day. He may or may not be sober. He may or may not demand sex after the children have slept. She must prepare and be accepting of anything and everything that he might carry home with him. 

THIS is the image I grew up with as the fate of the African woman. You could swap the basket for a fancy purse and the tools for a laptop but the idea is the same. I was taught to endure motherhood and, if I prayed hard and often enough, I might get my reward in the future if, at least, one of my children tolerates me. That sounds like madness. Why willingly subject yourself to torture? Yet, that is what we celebrate and expect from mothers (well, parents in general). [What happens if these children disown you? Did you suffer for nought?]

So, I am not surprised when people ask me when I'm going back to work or when they say they are worried because I'm doing 'nothing' all day. I'm living my dream, loving my team. 

We need to encourage people, young African girls especially, to choose motherhood (and by extension the partnership with the child's father) and not just accept it. You don't have to have children and a partner to be complete. But if you do choose that route, do it out of joy - not just to fulfill society's expectations of you. And you, my friends who worry for me, I am well. I like doing 'nothing' all day. I find joy in being a mother now - I won't wait for years for the ROI. Let's celebrate that!