My mother, my queen

MY LATE precious darling mom, Yanambal, was a short, talented and beautiful soul. Hailing from Pinetown, she was born to a mother who was not educated in English, but was fluent in Tamil and proficient in worldly wisdom and fastidious about religious custom.

Her dad was a truck driver for a still-existing bread manufacturing company. He was a short, robust man who brooked no nonsense, suffered no fools and his chutzpah belied his physical stature. From these two individuals, the atomic bombshell of a mother of mine was created.

Mom was a paragon of virtue and a font of wisdom and brought my brother and I up with a firm hand, yet balanced with a heart overflowing with love. That love extended widely to four-legged and two-legged creatures. She could not pass a beggar or anyone in need, giving her last R1 to someone who needed it more than her.

She thought nothing of inviting a bedraggled, homeless person into our hearth and home and make them feel like royalty. In my little way, I try to emulate her nobility in my life, knowing I will never even touch the surface of her humaneness. However, try I do.

I write this column piece against the backdrop of a social media video that has gone viral. That of a Grade 7 pupil calling President Cyril Ramaphosa “cupcake”. It is a term that is widely used on the SA president in a derogatory manner. The offence is further exacerbated by the fact that the man himself was in the audience at the function in Stellenbosch. Granted, he was most gracious and took it for the humour that was intended. However, it has opened up much debate.

I thought about it hard and for long. This is my summation: if I had done that, my rear end would be blushing for a few days. My mom, more so than my dad, would have chastised me with words and action. Yes, let me turn an old adage on its head: “don’t spare the rod and so you don’t spoil the child.” And no, I am not condoning physical abuse, but good old-fashioned discipline worked well and my brother and I were not spared it. I mean look at what a good boy I turned out to be.

This leads me to the second part of this column. My mother spouted many words of wisdom. One of which was used so regularly that it became quicker to use the abbreviation, which was, M.Y.O.B. If you have not deciphered it already, it meant “mind your own business”. This may sound abstract to you, but it made me apply it to some social media posts.

I am all for Facebook, X and other platforms, except TikTok. However, social media seems to bring out the worst in some people. I have seen some torrid fights and arguments played out in some posts. The way words can incite rage in some individuals! But there is one particular aspect that I wish to hone in on. The frequent cases nowadays of Missing Persons.

Usually it is teenagers, but recently many adults are also listed as “missing”. Almost every post put out by Rusa (Reaction Unit of South Africa) concerning missing persons attracts almost the same commenters or shall I call them commentators. They will emulate mystery author Agatha Christie’s famous fictional detective Hercule Poirot, Nancy Drew or Lieutenant Columbo and give their versions of what transpired.

Especially when young girls go missing, the argument is that they have run away with their boyfriends or lovers. They comment as if what they have stated is Gospel truth. It is merely conjecture that is emanating from an idle, nosey mind. Really, have they even considered what the missing person’s family is going through, not knowing where their loved one is and how they are coping? Can you imagine what reading the ignorant comments would do to them? Here is where my mother’s sage advice of “mind your own business” kicks in.

These ones would be better of taking care of their own business, their families and their well-being, instead of poking their probiscis in other people’s problems. Anyway, let's transcend from this negativity to more pleasant matters.

My mommy. She led a full life and spent the final decade of her life serving the Almighty! Nothing brought her more joy than espousing the goodness of Yahweh. She taught and educated scores of individuals in the virtues of good living and religiosity. These fortunate ones still revel in their personal experiences with “Aunty Yanam”. They have bountiful stories to tell me about her and as a proud son, I listen with enthusiasm and rapture.

The last few weeks of her life were spent in hospital. My visits to her became more and more sad. To witness a vibrant soul confined to a bed nearly broke me as a person. However, even up to her final weekend she never failed to amaze me.

Let me set the scene. She was in a ward with about six other patients. At that time, I was still on radio on Friday nights. During my entire tenure on air my mom never missed a single show. When she was confined to the hospital, that did not hinder her Friday night appointment with her “baby”. People could never deny anything that my mother asked for. With a well-balanced mixture of authority and charm she got her way always. So, her request to the nursing staff was for them to smuggle in a transistor radio for the show.

This was done and the nurses took it one step further. The ward, as is throughout the hospital, is connected to a public address sound system. My radio show was broadcast for all and sundry that evening. On my visit the next day the nurses told me that a beaming mother of mine told the rest of the inmates in her ward: “That’s my BABY!” No matter at that time I was 6 feet tall and weighed like a rugby player, I was still her “baby”.

She passed on the following week. A legend, the matriarch gone!

I write this piece of history with eyes filled with tears. Tears of sorrow that she is no more, yet also, tears of joy that she had been in my life for the major period. I conclude with the titles of two of her favourite songs, “Que Sera Sera” and “What a Wonderful World”.

Ravi Govender is a former POST sub-editor and Lotus FM radio presenter. He is a published author of four books, a freelance editor and film producer in training. He can be contacted at: [email protected]

** The views expressed do not necessarily reflect the views of IOL or Independent Media. 

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