Ìyá - 70 and Strong

A word

Tenacious – That is word that comes to mind about a lady I have known all my life. A fighter, a warrior, a lioness and an Amazon.

As the middle child she was never a middling, from childhood despite all she went through; I heard stories that made my hairs stand on end but when I look back with deep reflection and I realise that I get my fighting spirit off her.

The day I was born, no one believed that she had been with child, she was back at work because the hospital had to keep me and they did not need to keep her – she never idled, she just got on with being resourcefully productive.

Facing countless storms

We walked into the ward 43 years ago, the bed was empty, where could her Diamond have gone? The worst could have happened; my dad had gone for an operation, between the confusion around and the distress I was having, she calmly located where they had moved him, it is the earliest I can remember of my mother tackling serious life issues.

A very religious woman, prayerfully withstanding every kind of opposition, I do not think we have ever fully appreciated her worth in what she has struggled to be and become for all of us. But today, I see a mother hen who has shielded us like an eagle to her chicks, a lioness to her cubs, a mother lovingly holding the hand of her child as we walk through the crowds.

Her greatest desire

That she always wanted the best for us was never in dispute, that we probably did not get that far was not her fault, she saw dangers we never envisaged and worked to ensure her premonitions never became our experiences.

Her love, her zest for life, the sacrifices made that I have seen of no other person, she is of inestimable value, a treasure we have sometimes abused, maligned or ignored but still carries the greatest worth of what we can ever possess.

Relentless, unstinting, dogged, determined and supportive, a peerless mother whose voice to me still comforts and says things are well.

70 with thanks

We celebrate Ìyá. Ìyá is 70 – Happy Birthday, woman of God, A. J., many happy returns, with love and affection, may you see more happy, wonderful, healthful, bountiful, joyful and fruitful days.

Ìyá!

Feeling good at 65 - My Mum

We spoke in English as we have always done even though I can hold a decent conversation in Yoruba and we were probably chatting about everything for the best part of 45 minutes – I later asked my sister, if she looked good at 65 – the answer was, she looks pretty good at 65.

That beauty, if you must know is my mother, she had been expecting my call all day and I was looking for some free time which would have been the evening after work to call and wish her the very best of the day.

No doubt it was she – who sat and watched my infant head – not only when I was small but many a time when I was in all sorts of trouble she was there for me.

I had nothing to fear – whilst sleeping in my cradle bed – and when many a time, I met with situations that took away my sleep and my peace, she had answers in prayer and arms for comfort.

I may not have understood it, the love – and tears of sweet affection shed – a rock sometimes struck twice, sometimes rejected but at the same time the cornerstone of many things that make me stand and make me proud.

On this day, I say, with love and affection, Happy Birthday – My Mother – a priceless pearl, a comforting voice, a prayerful soul and a joy to chat to.

Long life, good health and prosperity! Cheers! - Sometimes, I forget her name means - enjoy a life of wealth - Have a good one, mum.

PS: The Highlights are culled from the 3rd verse of My Mother by Ann Taylor (1782-1866)

Fortress Embassies of our times

Mum´s home school

My mum who for many years was a school principal sometimes forgot that she had left her school and she was now at home with her own kids.

There were times when we had to be so dressed up and buttoned up because as children of a school principal we had to be examples the kind of comportment expected of school children, I probably suffered to more from this control-freakery till one day that I had an outburst that we are her children not pupils of her school.

The funny thing is that it cuts both ways, we became her fashion police and there was a time we refused to let her go out dressed as she was because it would reflect badly on us the children – sometimes, I wonder if parents can handle any of the medicine they dish their children, but she gracefully heeded our concerns.

Gladly, I was never a student in any of her schools, it would have been hellish with every teacher trying to make an example of one and probably getting accolades for inflicting actual bodily harm on the premise of keeping us on the straight and narrow.

It informed the reason why I blatantly refused to attended sixth form school because it would have been in an area where my mum was quite well known – one has to be smart about these things.

My lot of gallivanting

Anyway, the reason why I brought this up pertains to a number of words my mother used to describe what I do, most especially; she reckoned I was always gallivanting, that word had two connotations, that I was a ladies´ man, well, I did have a coterie of fans and that I roam or move around for pleasure.

I suppose we can conclude that I do roam and move about for pleasure, as for the first, well, sometimes mum knows best, no further comment.

So, I have been gallivanting and ended up in Belgium, England, Germany and the Canary Islands, there is no telling where I would be next.

Democracy armed to the teeth

What caught my interest in Brussels was when I took a taxi ride from our Belgium office to the train station and noted a building with a tank, lots of soldiers armed to the teeth, quite reminiscent of a Russian Embassy of old – it was the American Embassy.

I surmised to the cab driver, that it was strange what our world had become with this war on terror or what has become the terror of our democracies in the quest for some safety from those amongst us.

Not a few days after, I was on another gallivant, in Berlin, this time and saw another spectacle of soldiers, tank, guns and an imposing building in the embassy area, I was wrong to think it was American, this time it was British.

It now appears that running the gauntlet of embassy access in foreign lands of countries that so profess liberty and freedom might be a worse event than being caught in the warm embrace of a Tora Bora event – so much for how far we have gone beyond what the terrorists first intended.

Concern

We have not completed the first decade of the 21^st Century and all that was gained in the last 50 years of the 20^th Century has probably been squandered on the quest to spread alien liberal democratic and capitalist values to hostile lands – I do wonder for the promise of 2007.