I AM IN THE LOVE LANE.
My mother, like most, was a wonderful woman.
She bequeathed me great morals, but her love for me was extreme.
She showed me what it takes by her actions.
As a respected member of her community, she sat on all the Boards of Governors in my locality.
She was a morally upright woman.
A woman of stature.
Never grandstanding(no chocha).
A woman like others. She made sense when she had to opine.
She was an entrepreneur.
She was selfless.
Since I could comprehend,
We lived with relatives and relatives of friends.
Through her lifetime she made great strides.
She chose her friends wisely.
They were very similar.
My younger brother and I lived with some when she went back to college,
She was keen on education.
She paid through the nose as a widow.
She was ably supported by great relatives.
My uncle at my father's burial lightened the load.
He chose to pay my tuition fees.
He did this without failing.
He even started buying me uniforms, the type my mum would never have afforded.
I was accorded the pleasure of switching from one school to the then Kakamega High School.
This was my dad's doing. He had formed great relationships with others in the know.
He passed on in 1992 while I was in form two.
I remember the man with effusive nostalgia.
He did not have much to say.
If he had to express himself, it was love or discipline.
He was unencumbered by life's intricacies.
Whenever he came back home from slogging it out,
We all got on our toes.
One had to take stock of what had been done right or wrong.
Getting in his intermittent and temporary black book would accord you some lashings.
I remember an occasion on a Saturday like this, when he called the three boys back from our usual sojourns in the neighbourhood.
The man had taken note of our disorganised room.
My late elder brother, went in first. I followed and the other love of my life, that intelligent Rastaman of a brother I have, last.
Within moments of entry into the mess of a room, he asked us what was wrong with the room.
What a rhetorical question that was.
Upon that direction and with no detection of a cane,
We embarked on putting the room in order.
No sooner had we commenced than the gent, swiftly lashed my elder brother who wailed instantly like a boy hit by a bolt of lightning.
Upon the profane act of pain infliction, my brother and I scampered together for the door.
He was quicker, yet having been a coward I beat him to it.
I opened the door in haste and took off at the speed of a fighter jet.
With him in tow, we ran into the bright sunlight and into my uncle's homestead.
My mother shall always remain the essence of my life.
She has been gone since 2003 but in me her spirit of love burns fiercely. It's an ember that I pass on at any given opportunity.
She made me the man I am, a feminist to boot.
Her love taught me how wonderful women are.
Never having been hit by her lover aka her husband,
I learnt to never hit a woman.
I only ever hit a girl in primary school. I have been apologising for decades since the awful act. She forgive me.
My mother did her best for us as family.
She was my first love, a philanthropist extra ordinaire.
She put her all in everything she did.
She always stated that a chore must be done properly.
Yes, she was a perfectionist.
If you couldn't do it properly, she would tell you off.
"If you did not want to do it you should not have bothered" was her mantra.
I loved that woman as I still do to date.
I am lucky that her sister was raised in the same mould.
Wonderful sisters, even the third one.
My matriarchal uncles are so cool and calm, albeit strict.
Their children, such loving and wonderful souls.
Life has accorded me a lot.
On this occasion when I dedicate this to the one irreplaceable woman, I dedicate this to my sisters Sylvia, Milly and Linda.
We truly had a gem of a mother. We are who we are for her.
To the mothers who are like the one I loved so deeply, keep it up.
To those girls aspiring to mother, I hope you can emulate what my mother was and in my heart still remains.
To the boys, your mother is your first love. Those who still have theirs cherish them.
SPOIL YOUR MOTHER THIS SATURDAY!
My mother, like most, was a wonderful woman.
She bequeathed me great morals, but her love for me was extreme.
She showed me what it takes by her actions.
As a respected member of her community, she sat on all the Boards of Governors in my locality.
She was a morally upright woman.
A woman of stature.
Never grandstanding(no chocha).
A woman like others. She made sense when she had to opine.
She was an entrepreneur.
She was selfless.
Since I could comprehend,
We lived with relatives and relatives of friends.
Through her lifetime she made great strides.
She chose her friends wisely.
They were very similar.
My younger brother and I lived with some when she went back to college,
She was keen on education.
She paid through the nose as a widow.
She was ably supported by great relatives.
My uncle at my father's burial lightened the load.
He chose to pay my tuition fees.
He did this without failing.
He even started buying me uniforms, the type my mum would never have afforded.
I was accorded the pleasure of switching from one school to the then Kakamega High School.
This was my dad's doing. He had formed great relationships with others in the know.
He passed on in 1992 while I was in form two.
I remember the man with effusive nostalgia.
He did not have much to say.
If he had to express himself, it was love or discipline.
He was unencumbered by life's intricacies.
Whenever he came back home from slogging it out,
We all got on our toes.
One had to take stock of what had been done right or wrong.
Getting in his intermittent and temporary black book would accord you some lashings.
I remember an occasion on a Saturday like this, when he called the three boys back from our usual sojourns in the neighbourhood.
The man had taken note of our disorganised room.
My late elder brother, went in first. I followed and the other love of my life, that intelligent Rastaman of a brother I have, last.
Within moments of entry into the mess of a room, he asked us what was wrong with the room.
What a rhetorical question that was.
Upon that direction and with no detection of a cane,
We embarked on putting the room in order.
No sooner had we commenced than the gent, swiftly lashed my elder brother who wailed instantly like a boy hit by a bolt of lightning.
Upon the profane act of pain infliction, my brother and I scampered together for the door.
He was quicker, yet having been a coward I beat him to it.
I opened the door in haste and took off at the speed of a fighter jet.
With him in tow, we ran into the bright sunlight and into my uncle's homestead.
My mother shall always remain the essence of my life.
She has been gone since 2003 but in me her spirit of love burns fiercely. It's an ember that I pass on at any given opportunity.
She made me the man I am, a feminist to boot.
Her love taught me how wonderful women are.
Never having been hit by her lover aka her husband,
I learnt to never hit a woman.
I only ever hit a girl in primary school. I have been apologising for decades since the awful act. She forgive me.
My mother did her best for us as family.
She was my first love, a philanthropist extra ordinaire.
She put her all in everything she did.
She always stated that a chore must be done properly.
Yes, she was a perfectionist.
If you couldn't do it properly, she would tell you off.
"If you did not want to do it you should not have bothered" was her mantra.
I loved that woman as I still do to date.
I am lucky that her sister was raised in the same mould.
Wonderful sisters, even the third one.
My matriarchal uncles are so cool and calm, albeit strict.
Their children, such loving and wonderful souls.
Life has accorded me a lot.
On this occasion when I dedicate this to the one irreplaceable woman, I dedicate this to my sisters Sylvia, Milly and Linda.
We truly had a gem of a mother. We are who we are for her.
To the mothers who are like the one I loved so deeply, keep it up.
To those girls aspiring to mother, I hope you can emulate what my mother was and in my heart still remains.
To the boys, your mother is your first love. Those who still have theirs cherish them.
SPOIL YOUR MOTHER THIS SATURDAY!
