The Stepmother

It was a gory scene seeing my caring mother bleeding to death at an alarming unimaginable rate

. The doctors and nurses could not save the sacred life of my sweet mother, so they can only care, but only God heals. She was lying lifelessly with her dead baby in the pool of her innocent blood. My water had spilled and the calabash shattered into smithereens; beyond repair. How could one console somebody that his mother was devoured by the hungry lion with bones and flesh settling down in the beast belly? Unthinkable! Where would such victim point to in the future to be his mother"s grave: either marked or unmarked? I was emotionally stressed and psychologically traumatized during my childhood period due to the sudden death of my beloved mother. So mother is gone and vanished into the air; who is to pet me if I"m seriously in bad mood or crying for food? Who is to give me a pat on the back or a warm kiss at the time of joy? Who is to care for me when the chips are down? If not my mother, then my creator who is divine in nature. My father who was a retired railway staff and yet to be paid is age long pensions and other benefits by the public authority could not hide his grieved state of mind.

He could neither drink nor eat for days; his best way of mourning a beloved wife. We were too young to join our father in this dramatic hunger strike protest against death. Scores of sympathizers and relative flooded and invaded our home, consoling the entire sad family and praying for the repose of her soul and for God to give us the fortitude to bear the irreparable loss. After all, to die and to still remain relevant in the mind of your beloved ones is not to die at all. Death is only a transition into eternal bliss based on our deeds on earth. Few days after her death, she was lowered into the mother earth six "" feet deep in a traditional funeral arrangement. My father widower, myself and Hadiza plus other relatives were present at the graveside to pay our last respect to my beloved mother. Tears trickled down my eyes as the gravediggers close "" up her grave. All of us were crying like hungry babies desperately looking for mother"s breast. A couple of days after the burial ceremony, which was non "" colour and low ""keyed; I went back to school.

I was in the elementary class then of the government primary school. My Classteacher and classmates comforted and sympathized with me again thereby making me to remember the sudden death of my sweet mother. My Classteacher called me one afternoon and said:

"Wipe away your tears and weep not, shettima,

For the creator will permit the Soul

Of your beloved mother to rest in Peace,

You are now the master of your life and the captain of your ship

Therefore work hard to be somebody in life"

She concluded with a pat on my back. I could no longer cry at this moment but was in a pensive mood and lessly searching for a warm embrace from my late mother but she was not around to give me on but my Classteacher gave me one at last at a mother herself. When I returned home from school, my sister was playing with sans and stones along with her playmates in our neighborhood. Father was fast asleep then" What could I do now? I went straight to the backyard to pray at my mother"s graveside for God to forgive her of her earthly sins and protect our father, Hadiza and myself.

While playing at her graveside, I was able to recollect some vital parts of the advice given to me by my Classteacher which ran thus:" " you are the master of your life and the captain of your ship". These words stunned me to the marrow; because how could a small boy of eight like myself determine his fortunes in life? How could a tender boy like me interprets and understand the philosophy of life? I was neither a born ""genius nor brilliant but just only above average in the class of thirty ""five pupils; trying to keep my head above water in the time of examinations. Without my mother, the journey to the future would be lonely, boring and uninteresting but I need to hold the bull by the horns and plan ahead.

My sister had left her playmates in annoyance because of a slight misunderstanding on whom should strap the doll they generally and fondly referred to as baby to her back! It was a dramatic episode.

by: vimal

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