A letter to mum

Dear Mum

Oh, even to write it feels weird. There has been no need to start any letter or missive in this format or address anyone this way for 30 years. Have you really been gone that long?

Right, let’s get back to the letter…

Yesterday, a friend shared a picture with me of just over 20 years ago and I thought of you again - more deeply. I thought of you at the same age and all you had already accomplished at the same age I was in the picture - 27. Suddenly I was remembering the diaries you wrote on my behalf right from the time I was born, and how you were one of the most resilient women I have known, even though you were snatched away so early in life. I’ve actually now lived longer than you did, but you still inspired me and the others you left behind with the way you lived.

I close my eyes and I see you making the best of your life, defying the odds, relentlessly trying to make us comfortable in a new country, holding onto the hands of my two younger brothers, even if you were forced to drag them along with you to your office, trying to make ends meet anyway, until you were eventually fired from your job. Those days there was no tolerance for not having solved your family or childcare issues whilst aiming to hold down a good job. It was such stress on you, and ultimately it took its toll.

I know you won’t mind me sharing some of these facts, but I can’t help wondering from time to time what my life would have been like now if you’d still been here. Certainly some of the things I’ve allowed to happen or seem to have no control over, you wouldn’t have tolerated.

I see you again carrying that Cooler (A large container that chills food) on your head, trying to show bravado after losing your job and being reduced to doing the type of work people coming back from ‘the abroad’ (the UK, in this case) had no business doing…especially in the eyes of the Nigerian snobby lot of so-called friends, relations and acquaintances.

Oh yes, it was humiliating. Certainly, dad had no time for your efforts even if you considered it a needs-must situation. How can my mum be walking around like a Street seller? My mum, who had studied and worked in the UK; my mum who had been a teacher in her own rights, commanding the respect of so many, before she even left Africa to join my dad in Europe. What was going on?

When I think about it now, mum, I see you really took a lot of what some might consider condescending positions in your stride. You were pragmatic with your lot, and just got on with it. You were a fighter in your own right and you were willing to give most challenges your best shot. Yes, you were one of the few who dare where angels fear to tread.

When I saw that photo yesterday I thought of many places I’d dared to tread also. I know you wouldn’t be impressed with my vehicle delivery role. What on earth was I doing that for with the degrees and other qualifications lying in my portfolio? ‘Vehicle delivery’? I hear you cry. Yes mum, for a while I travelled the length and breadth of England inspecting, collecting and delivering leased vehicles from their owners to different hubs in different counties.

And what are you doing now? you ask me. Like you, mum, trying to make ends meet. It’s one thing after the other, mum. Some things I don’t even want to think or talk about here… We’re in, what we hope are, the dying throes of a pandemic, and the world is a lot different from the way you left it.

I write this letter to you to acknowledge that as you were strong for me, so I shall be for my children and for others. You served and I serve too. Those are the ones who make the great leaders after all. In some ways, my picture is you...a mixture of similarities and differences.

I look forward to seeing you again in the great beyond, but till then, you’ll always be privy to what’s going on down here. In my next letter, I’ll be sharing with you how I’ve avoided doing that thing dad did which took him away from us too. You might not understand why it cost him his life, but I do…

Until then, rest on mum. Catch up with you in my next letter.

Love always

Anita