I remember searching for the perfect Mother’s Day gift. Something that would please my mother, something to show her how much I cared for and loved her. And boy was that difficult. I mean there is only so many saris, nighties, gowns and slippers one could buy, recalled the writer.
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I RECENTLY popped into a shopping mall to pick up a birthday gift. My intention was to just go to a specific store, pay for the purchase and leave. Well, that did not go as planned, because I was attracted by the many store displays, advertising gifts for Mother’s Day.
Almost every store had merchandise near the front entrances to draw one in. All sorts of nice, light pink goodies, from bath robes to candles, chocolates and fluffy bedroom slippers.
I enjoyed my walkabout and it made me nostalgic about how I had celebrated my own mother. The person behind Mother’s Day was an American woman called Anna Jarvis. She wanted to have a day to honour her mother and the many other mothers who had made sacrifices for their children.
She did this by way of a memorial in church. She was so passionate about celebrating mothers and lobbied the government to have the day acknowledged. And so, Mother’s Day became a recognised day, celebrated annually, on the second Sunday of May in the US.
Many countries imported the idea and now South Africans also celebrate Mother's Day. Interestingly enough, Anna regretted her lobby to have Mother’s Day recognised when it started to become so commercialised, and made several attempts to block the commercialisation of it, to no avail. I do not recall celebrating this day as a child. In my teen years, my sisters and I made an effort to treat my mom and make her a queen for the day.
We made cards, baked a cake and cooked a nice lunch. Simple and easy. As I went on to have my own family, Mother’s Day took on a whole new meaning. I remember searching for the perfect Mother’s Day gift. Something that would please my mother, something to show her how much I cared for and loved her. And, boy, was that difficult. I mean there is only so many saris, nighties, gowns and slippers one could buy. At one point, it was just flowers and chocolates. And finally, for almost a decade, it became books.
My mom loved to read. She was a great Mills and Boon, and Danielle Steele fan. Books didn’t cost as much as a month’s rent back then, so I used to get her a “box” pack. Or two.
Sometimes I would go off to Roopanands in Victoria Street, and get a stack of Filmfare and Femina magazines.
They were usually out of date by the time they arrived on a boat from India, but nonetheless she enjoyed reading and re-reading them. Even trying out recipes and designs for our outfits.
My mom’s first reaction to the gifts was usually, “why you spending so much money?” (I think all Indian moms talk like that), but then she would give a lovely smile, and her eyes would light up at the delight of reading.
She treasured her novels, and would get very upset if I suggested that we take some to the book exchange, which (for the younger generation), was a thing back in the day. My mother was a complex person. At times she was authoritative and ambitious, and yet at other times she was empathetic and permissive. She was a disciplinarian of note. Notably, she and mothers of her generation had a very different version of home schooling.
She taught me religion: “you had better pray that the mark comes out of the carpet.”
She taught me foresight: “always wear clean underwear in case.”
She taught me about weather: “this room of yours looks like a tornado.”
She taught me behaviour modification: “stop acting like your father.”
She taught me anticipation: “just wait until we get home.”
She taught me about genetics: “you are just like your father’s family.”
She taught me justice: “one day you will have kids, and I hope they turn out like you."
She taught me about time travel: “if you don’t straighten up, I will knock you to Timbuktu."
And she taught me about contortionistism: “just look at the dirt on the back of your neck."
Speaking of justice, I realised I had turned into my mother when my son said that my grandson was boisterous and hyperactive. I had one word for him, and that was “karma”.
Oh, that gave us all a good laugh. I also did not know that Timbuktu was actually a real city until I visited Mali.
She must have read that somewhere.
Home schooling aside, my mom wanted the best for my sisters and I. She was forced to leave school in Standard 3 to look after her siblings.
She ensured that we did not suffer the same fate and that we all went on to have higher education. And she was so proud of us. And that is the legacy that I will treasure for all my life.
She passed on four years ago, and my memory of my mother is her hugs which still lasts long after she has let go. She was truly amazing. You know there is no user manual on how to be a mother. Humans probably take their lessons from nature. If one looks at a herd of elephants, the matriarch is the leader. Her job is simply to keep everyone alive.
The herd survives because the female remembers, and knows instinctively where to go for food and water. She acts as the protector and guide, and ensures stability. The elephants put the wisest woman in front as we humans do too. And that was my mom to a "T".
So as we celebrate Mother’s Day, show your appreciation in any way that you can. Honour the woman who gave you life. Give her flowers, make a card, buy her something nice, make that call and ensure that she is a queen for the day, as moms are the crowns of our heads.
Until we meet again, Happy Mother’s Day.
** The views expressed do not necessarily reflect the views of IOL or Independent Media.