This book is in honour of my beloved mother, Maria, and
the memories that I have of her while I was growing up and
the times we shared together. Some of the memories that I
hold are sad, as well as happy times, and I will be reflecting
on some of the endeavours that I have faced and some of
the proudest moments of my life. For instance, being a
student at Wolverhampton University, graduating in 2006
as a registered Mental Health Nurse.
Everything I have achieved in my life so far has been so
with perseverance. I was not born with a silver spoon in my
mouth, and I have had to raise my children as a single parent.
This book is also dedicated to the woman who brought
me to this world; she worked very hard to raise nine children
with no immediate family members to support her (my
grandmother, siblings etc.) and it is Maria with less support.
But when I look back, I have come to realise that at least you
did not suffer and you were not bedbound, but still, I never
got that chance to say goodbye. Never would I have
imagined that you would have gone from my life so soon;
you were too young to die, and I thought you would still be
here today. But I was wrong. I feel so guilty because I never
made it to your funeral, Mom, but I was unable to. Some
things are beyond our control, but nevertheless, I will always
hate myself for it.
My beloved mother loved me unconditionally and had
so much care and empathy for her children, like a chicken,
hiding its chick from the hungry wild animals. I loved my
mother. She taught me to be who I am today, and I am
extremely proud of her. I have learned to take the negative
thoughts and turn them into positive ones, which is what
drove me to write this biography. I have reflected on certain
events that happened to me as a child, when I would fetch
a container of water and carry it on my head for a long
distance, over several trips.
When I look back, I have realised now (as a mother as
well) what she must have gone through. My mother's
passing was sudden and hurts to this day. However, from
what my siblings have told me, she was complaining of
chest pains, which resulted in her having a fatal heart attack.
I comfort myself in knowing that your passing was sudden
and that your pain was not elongated.
Your voice echoes in my head all the time; you
mentioned that at some point I will not find you there, and
now I know you were right. I will not find you, Mom. There
is something about losing your mother that is permanent.
"You will lose someone you can't live without, and
your heart will be badly broken, and the bad news is that
you never completely get over the loss of your beloved.
They live forever in your broken heart that doesn't seal
back up. There is also the good news of keeping those
memories in a hidden box in your heart and the only person
who has the key to that box is you,
My mother had less support, as most of her family were
in South Africa. I presume this must have been extremely
hard for her, but she stayed with us. When I look back, I
realise how lucky I was to have her as my mother, and I
knew deep-down that I was loved, and I felt it. You left too
soon although you did not suffer, Mom, and you will
always be remembered by me for your courage, your
strength, your love for your children, and your kindness by
accommodating our neighbours when they needed you.
Whether it was the little essentials, e.g., salt, sugar or
cooking oil, you shared this.
As the saying goes: "Don't be ashamed to weep; 'tis
right to grieve. Tears are only water, and flowers, trees,
and fruit cannot grow without water. But there must be
sunlight also. A wounded heart will heal in time, and when
it does, the memory and love of our lost ones is sealed inside
to comfort us." – Brian Jacques, Taggerung.
I know I am not alone when I say your voice echoes in
my head constantly, because others have also said, When
you mentioned to me at some point that I will not find you
there, and you were right. I won't see you or would be able
talk, to let you know what I have accomplished and
archived through determination and issues I have endured.
You were my mother, and I will always be your daughter,
and I felt loved by you. "There are wounds that never show
on the body that are deeper and more hurtful than anything
that bleeds." – Laurell K. Hamilton, Mistral's Kiss.
"We need to find God, and he cannot be found in noise
and restlessness. God is the friend of silence. Nature—
trees, flowers, grass—grows in silence; see the stars, the
moon and the sun, how they move in silence. We need
silence to be able to touch souls." – Mother Teresa.
My mother was a very strong woman, both mentally
and physically, and therefore her passing away was very
difficult to accept. As we all know, we grieve in different
ways. We all go through painful emotions. I loved my
mother, and yet I feel I did not show her enough love when
she was alive. I will always be immensely proud of her. She
looked after me when I was a child, listened to my cries
when I was hungry, and cleaned me when I was soiled. She
was my mother. As a young girl my mother taught me a lot;
that I needed be kind to people, and to give them food if
they did not have enough, and to share whatever I had.
Although we had very little growing up, we always shared
food.
The nice part about growing up in the village was that
there was so much to do; there were never any dull
moments. At times when there were good rains, we could
have watermelon, and there were wild fruits to eat. When
there was no rain, the elderly believed beer had to be
brewed, and there was a lot traditional dancing around a
specific tree. Young girls were picked to travel to other
villages. They were mostly naked from the top, but nobody
was allowed to watch them. These girls were given a special
name for this, but I was not one of them.
They were told to
carry branches from a certain tree with them, then the elders
could do traditional dancing around this tree late in the afternoon for the rain to come. It seems so long ago, I
remember very little about it now.
There were good and bad times when I was growing
up. I have done bad things in the past, which I am not proud
of, but I did not commit any murder. These memories will
remain with me for the rest of my life. I struggled for a long
time to forgive my father, and even though those wounds
have healed slightly, it has been difficult for me. But I have,
and as such, I feel much closer to God.
I did not attend secondary school, but I was able to go
to university. I am still proud to work for the National
Health Service (NHS), which I call a bid industry as it is
multicultural. I have attended Dudley College while
working at the same time, making myself available to pick
up a few shifts here and there, which paid enough to put
food on the table as well as buy my children some new
clothes.
Having only attended primary school, I later went on to
pass my NVQ Level 2 and 3 in Nursing, which was enough
to get me accepted into university. I can recall doubting
myself, wondering how I had managed to get this far when
I was not as educated as some of the other students who had
made it to university. Still, I was able to gain higher grades
than many of those students, something that my mother
would have been most proud of had she still been alive.
I can recall walking to the library and then having to
get the bus home carrying a number of books because I did
not have a car. I used to get a bus and then catch a train to
Wolverhampton University, which I attended Monday to
Friday, unless it was a bank holiday. I would do as many
shifts as I could, always grateful for the opportunity to work
for the NHS.
I would like to leave my legacy for my children and my
grandchildren. I would also like to say that no matter how
difficult the situation is, there is always a light and a door
waiting for you to open.