LIKE MOTHER LIKE DAUGHTER

A last month ago we were celebrating my mom’s birthday and it hit me as I looked into the mirror, I saw my mother. It didn't feel good because as a teen I worked really hard to be nothing like her, but my voice, lips and eyes were an exact replica of her. That made me realize I am who I am because of the women that came before me, I call them my fore-mothers. I've only met three, my mom and two grandmothers.

My grandmother was an icon in the community, everyone went to her about everything, and she was one of the first black women in our country to be a high school principal. She was educated, intelligent and valued education above all else; she even taught me how to read and write. She worked really hard against the odds to get an education; her older sister had to sacrifice herself for her to go to school, so she didn't take that opportunity for granted. She once was the national president of the NCAW (National Conference of African Women). She was active in the apartheid struggle and assisted young men to cross the border into Lesotho. Looking from the outside in, she was a woman any girl would aspire to be. When I was five years old I was taken to live with her and my aunt because she had connections in the education department and I could be enrolled in school earlier. At the time I was a scared little, skinny girl who felt abandoned by my mom. I didn't understand why my mom would let her take me because although I was named after her, we didn't really get along, I found her cold and unloving; it was not just my imagination she was really cruel to us growing up. Most of my life, I wanted nothing to do with her, I only went to see her for my dad’s sake. But I forgave her ten years ago when I received Jesus in my life. Two weeks ago she had two strokes; I went to see her in hospital. She looked so helpless and I was overwhelmed with love for her. I do love my grandmother.

Twice a week I was allowed to visit my other grandmother because they lived in the same town. She was a sweet woman; I never heard a harsh word come out of her mouth. She was different; she was modest but worked hard to make sure that whenever I came to visit I was most comfortable. She didn’t have much of an education and she had worked as a domestic-worker to provide for her children. From what I hear, she went through a lot when my granddad left her alone in a strange rural town (as an urban girl) with seven children. My mom always tells me of how she would collect material from her employers to make them clothes, or how she had to learn to harvest grain so that they could have something to eat. Her house was not much to behold, no plumbing, we had to go outside to use the loo. My favourite memories are when we used to carry buckets to fetch water from a nearby dam, I was small so she’d let me carry a jug so I could feel like I also did something. Every Sunday, when I had to leave her to go to my other grandma, felt like hell. I loved my granny, I still adore her.

I guess the saying that a man will marry a woman who is like his mom, is kind of true. My mother is a very ambitious woman, just like her ex mother in law. She came from a poor background with a domestic worker mom and an absent father, but she chose to work hard to get what she has now. This woman has made waves in her industry, is head hunted by departments in government, she owns a guest house, has been involved in property, and has now started an online gifting and networking company. Nothing can stop this woman. My mother never gives up, what I’d give to have an ounce of her dedication and tenacity. Though I admire her achievements, and though I do know she did all that for us, it came at a price. Because the work can be so frustrating, she was hardly in a good mood, we never bonded in my teens because she was too busy making a living for us. She was not perfect but she did the best she could for us. I understood that. She was like my paternal grandmother in her ambition and like her mother in the lengths she would go for her children.

All three women are unique in their own way, some people would think my paternal grandmother was evil in the way she was to me, and I also thought that throughout my childhood. But because of her, I learned how to write and inherited the gift of teaching, which are now my passions. If she didn't make that five year old stay indoors after school, while other kids played outside, I doubt I would have realized I love writing. From my maternal grandma I learnt love and compassion and the ability to keep a good attitude no matter the circumstances. People say I mother people, I got that from her. She always makes sure everyone is okay and I love and wish I could be half the woman she is. My mom is ambitious and passionate about what she does, I am not that cut throat, but I am passionate about what I do. I hear every time when people meet my mother that I am so much like her, I used to dislike that but lately I've learned to embrace that whether good or bad. I realized that I might not like some things about all of my fore-mothers but I am my fore-mothers’ daughter.