OBSCURE: Mothers' plights

A mother and her child

Mothers Are Golden!!!

When my mother lost one of her daughters, she didn't cry. I didn't see a tear drop from her eyes. Perhaps, she did, in our absence. Perhaps, she walked into the bedroom and cried out the seawater when everyone had left our apartment. My mother made the death of a child look like something that should be embraced without one's countenance being disturbed. Even though I was young, I could remember she smiled each time the sympathisers exhaled words that would not bring back my dead sister. Although my mother's smiles could be fake, it's pure to me because I didn't know there were other species of smiles. When dusk drew near that day, I told my mother I was hungry. At first, she didn't answer me. Perhaps, she was counting the number of groans my dead sister collected from her body in the labour room. But, my mother's facial expression remained unshaken—it didn't give the signal of a grieving mother. When my mother turned deaf ears to the canticles of hunger sprawling from my mouth, I called my siblings to join me in the rendition. Soon, my mother was nudged to enter the kitchen. My mother's culinary skill was not affected; her food caressed my taste bud as it always did. The next day, none of my siblings, including me, pacified my mother. How my mother suppressed the grief was one of the wonders Guinness hasn't written about. 

While my mother was trying to save us from grieving too, she's also putting herself out as a stone—an entity without emotions. She concealed her vulnerabilities as every Nigerian mother does. How many of you have seen your mothers cry before? Even though you did, I'm sure your mother swiftly hid her face the moment she noticed you were watching. If you were caring enough, you would ask her what was wrong with her. But, unfortunately, your mother would give you an indifferent response. It could be, “Don't worry, it's well”

On the part of loving, our mother's hearts are not that translucent. So, you want to tell me our mothers don't have men, apart from their husbands—our fathers—who make them lose their composure? I am talking about their crushes. We don't think about our mother's personal life, the way I think we should: the grief they munch, the emotions that they battle with and many ugly things. 

It's the same structure some of you build with people you call mentors—you forget they have personal lives too. You just turn yourselves into parasites, when mutualism should be the objective.

What do you think??

Read: Work On Your Mentality!!!

About the Author

Ifenaike Ifedapo Ayomipo is a Nigerian writer whose works have been published or are forthcoming on The Quills, The Transit Lit Magazine, Naija Mad Hotstars, Kalahari Review, IceFloe Press, CovidHQ Africa, Shallow Tales Review, Institutionalized Review, Whetstone Magazine and elsewhere. Also, he's a promising Educationist and public speaker.