I speak of a yam seller
I love yam. It is not my favourite delicacy. I, however, will always have it on my heart because… I am proudly the son of a yam seller. Yes!
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Growing up back in the outskirts of Dansoman, Gbegbeyise precisely, I had the rare privilege of helping my mother sell yam. I would carry only a tithe of her load and, in no time, would be panting for breath.
She will ask me to return home while she journeyed miles… all in a bid to complement the indefatigable efforts of my father. The love of a mother!
I grew up with deep respect for those who hawk; those whose sweat kept the dreams of their family alive. I grew up admitting that great people were those who lent their shoulders to others to stand on… to see what they couldn't see on their own. Greatness is sacrifice; a great deal of it!
I cast my mind back to those days I misplaced my pencils and crayons only to be knocked on the head by her so hard. All the knocks make much sense now.
I thought it was out of hatred that she reported me to my teacher for skipping my assignments only to smuggle my way to play football. They all make sense now. I thought it was out of hatred. She knew it was out of love.
The love of a mother is priceless. In spite of all one’s naughtiness, she still holds them at heart. They smack us with one hand and comfort us with the other.
The role of a mother in a child’s life is indispensable. Little wonder, we have ‘single mothers’ but no ‘single fathers’. A mother is to her child… and a child is to their mother! The bond is unbreakable.
As children, we were inseparably attached to her. She knew our tricks and we knew hers. We knew when the soup and all its content were untouchable (and had to remain so at all cost!) and she knew how some naughty ones like yours truly would devise means to defy orders at all cost.
She knew our secrets and we, in turn, knew hers. She knew when we had done wrong and we knew when she was trying to shield us from the unpardonable rod of our dad.
She knew every move of us… and always got our back when she needed to… though she later punished us for them.
Today, I look back and see how far we all have come. But for the love and sacrifice of our parents, none of us would have reached the height we have gotten to today. But for the persistence of a mother’s love, we would never have known what it meant to never give up on anything… even one’s dreams.
With the benefit of hindsight, I better understand now why she insisted on us keeping our beds tidy every morning. I better understand what it meant to take your bath and brush as well, no matter what, AT LEAST twice a day.
I now understand why she kept insisting we began each day with prayers and devotion. They all make better sense now!
My mother inadvertently taught me so many lessons which have helped in forming my philosophy of life. One of the deepest lessons I won’t ever forget is the lesson of greatness. We all may not reach where we actually desire to. However, we can pave way for others to reach there.
You may, for instance, not experience the better Ghana you desire to… now. However, you can do your best to make that dream possible for the next generation. And… that’s greatness.
To her, greatness didn’t mean “getting there.” It meant “helping others get there if you couldn’t get there.” Greatness, to her, wasn’t about fame. It was about doing your little today to enable others enjoy much tomorrow.
To her, greatness was about sacrificing your personal interests today for a collective interest tomorrow. And, that is my philosophy!
I have grown to have a different view of the world we live in. Thanks to my mother.
Thanks to all mothers out there who are keeping their children’s dreams alive with their sacrifices. A million thanks to all those women, especially hawkers, who have resolved to lend their shoulders to their children to reach where they never could.
My heartfelt gratitude goes to all those busy corporate women out there who don’t cook up excuses to neglect their wards. Keep on investing in your family. Keep on giving your children the utmost attention. Give your family your all… the best that you possibly can.
When God wanted to create the world, he thought of an Adam. When He wanted to comfort the world he had created, he thought of an Eve. When He wanted to redeem the world through His son, he thought of a mother; Mary.
Mothers are redeemers. They are comforters. Thank God for our Eves. Thank God for our Marys. God bless all our mothers who have adopted other people’s children and made their own.
Thank God for all our mothers, especially single ones, who make our homes habitable. Thank God for all our mothers through whose sacrifice we have made it this far.
Thank God for my ‘former’ yam seller mother, Mrs. Faustina Ama Fua Donkor Ansah. Thank God for my father, Mr. Francis Ben Ansah.
Happy Mother’s Day. Happy Parents’ Day.
The writer is a playwright and the Chief Scribe of Scribe Communications, a writing company in Accra. (www.scribecommltd.com)
