Mama

"When a child is asleep, the mother's attention is on the child's stomach"_ An African adage. I was the only child of my Mother, but the same can not be said of my father. "My greatest regret is falling in love with your father," mother says. "Even though love duped me, I had you, my most prized possession," she adds. My mother took on both her and my father's obligations on her own, and although living on a meager income, she did her best to meet the majority of my needs. She was always proud of my academic achievements when I was younger. My mother praised me when I excelled in my studies and chastised me when the contrary was true. "Excellence is never an accident; it is the consequence of hard labor, earnest effort, clever guidance, and the vision to perceive opportunity amid obstacles" she always says. Mother would relate stories about how she ruined her dream of becoming a doctor and was evicted by her parents once they found out she was expecting a child. She tells me these anecdotes as an advice if my actions appear to be endangering the chance I had (Her tears gushed from her eyes as she spoke these comments, and it was clear that she meant good for me). It was the crow of the rooster, as usual, that tooted the beginning of a new day. Then, as I was getting ready for school, I noticed that my mother was still in bed. I thought to myself, "This is unusual for her." I chose not to bother her because her appearance the night before revealed that she was exhausted, but I changed my mind when I remembered that she had stated that she would be leaving for work early today. "Mama Mama..." says the narrator. I called her, but she didn't answer. With my eyes wide open and the lateral commissure of my lips moving in the direction of the location of my ear, I could hear the sound of my heart pounding. My face was beaded with sweat. Though I drew closer to her bed, I felt heavy. As she lay motionless on her bed, it was clear that she had passed away. All of it appeared like it was part of a movie, and I stood still for a while, perhaps anticipating the ending. It was barely audible, but she diverted her gaze toward me and called for help. I dashed outside and summoned assistance from a neighbor who lived next door. It was with the help of a few others that we placed her in a hospital. In the course of a four-week assessment, she was diagnosed with Chronic Fatigue Syndrome (CFS). The cost of her therapy was too much for us to handle. Her hospitalization had already wiped up all of her savings. While in the hospital, She was able to control her muscles again before she was declared able to go home. Even though she had disobeyed the doctor's medical advice due to her inability to afford her medications, she showed signs of improvement over time. It had been two weeks since the illness, and things appeared to be back to normal. It was a Friday afternoon, and all of the pupils were preparing to return to their classroom when the bell rang for recess, I saw our neighbor who lived next door enter the principal's office. A few moments later, I received word that I needed to report to the office. I walked in only to be greeted by a tearful Miss Adoma our compatriot, who informed me that my mother had been involved in a mishap that had led to her admission in the hospital. When I received this message, I felt depressed. "What's the deal, Mama?" I couldn't help but think, hasn't she been through a lot already? After dropping us off at the hospital, our bus driver, Mr. Cameron, returned to the school. We'd been in the waiting room for half an hour and had yet to hear anything about mother. "Finally", I thought to myself as a woman in a white robe approached. The look on her face said it all; she had come with awful news. Quoting her, "Are you here, Miss Adoma? It would be preferable if the young man exited. I think it's incredible that the woman you brought is still alive after such severe injuries. When we discovered that her vertebrae had been damaged as a result of the accident, the diagnosis indicated that she would be crippled for the rest of her life". I cried as I listened in through the closed door. In a wheelchair, Mother was discharged from the hospital. Mother cried for a week and refused to eat or drink anything. On the seventh day, she succumbed to her new normal, looking weak and fatigued. Her condition didn't stop her from selling on the street again, despite her limited mobility, and she did her best to get enough money to feed us. As time went on, both happiness and misfortune came along. In light of all of these, it has been three years after her catastrophe, I finally entered my final year in school. Although it was on both of our minds, no one dared to bring up the subject of my admission to college. My graduation would mark the end of my formal schooling, in my opinion. Even though I adored the thought of furthering my education, I was hesitant to approach my mother about her plans because I knew she couldn't afford even the very minimum.