With age, comes a lot of reflection. I am not a believer in the ‘generational curse’ doctrine. I find it lazy. There are habits and traditions and it takes work to dig into them and make conscious decisions. It is very uncomfortable and takes a lot of vulnerability. It is not as easy as screaming at imaginary friends and blaming innocent relatives for refusing to take responsibility.
I recently started my Substack, I was not ready for the interaction that would be ignited from retrospection.
You know how we always thought our mothers were happy? Well, looking back at mine, some aunts, my grandmas, and even neighbours, those women were not happy. And I feel so bad that we did not allow them to feel bad and that they were not allowed to be dissatisfied.
The worst thing is we choose to use their unhappiness as a justification for unhealthy relationships now. We expect people who have done inner work on themselves to feel some type of way because they refuse to be like our mothers.
I was discussing my book with a woman once. She was not too excited that I insist that a man should be a provider. Her example was of course her mother. Her mother apparently was more ambitious than her father and as a result, moved up the ladder in her career and this, of course, meant she earned more.
She says she never knew that the money her father gave them for fees, pocket money, whatever shopping, and even the money he drank at the local bar was her mother's. Her mother never mentioned it. Now, this woman is in her 50s so her mother was from a totally different generation.
I do not know why we decide that silence is contentment. I can only imagine the resentment her mother probably had for her father. Imagine working hard and having no say over the money you have toiled for. Watching your children line up and ask for fees from their father and watch him hand out your money like alms. Or watch him go to the bar and buy everyone, plus the barmaid, a drink while you sat at home drinking tea because you are a good Christian woman.
And the worst, having to ask for money for your personal things and maybe even having to justify why you needed ‘so much’. Well, she was a better woman than me because I would have set everything on fire. The house, the bar, and his mother’s house, chased the cows and set the cowshed on fire too.
Our mothers are or were human. They do not have a special set of feelings. Some of the things they did or said might be funny to look back on or talk about but if you look just a little closer, you will realise there was always turmoil.
The sarcasm for example. “Just leave the water on the gas, your father will come and blow more gas into the cylinder”. “Just make sure you have left the soap in the water, your father has a soap factory”. That father was causing her some serious stress yawa, and we just thought she was crazy and dramatic.
Their obsession with cleaning everything, even the patch of soil in the compound had to be swept. They say the root cause of obsessive cleaning is based on past trauma.
They refused to rest, were fanatical in their religious beliefs, and often put everyone’s needs before their own. It is so unfair that we thought their lives were good. We just expected them to be awake every morning, happy and healthy enough to do what we needed from them. I never once got home and my father said, “please be quiet, your mother is sleeping.”
I remember my mother ‘running’ away once. My father cooked a whole tray of eggs and one packet of ugali. Of course, that ugali was barely cooked. The house was messy. And we just sat in the mess with our father as we watched L.A. Law and he drank Highlife Sherry. When my mother came back by herself, because I do not think her husband looked for her to beg her to come home, she went back to life and I only gave it a thought in my 30s.
Of course, as children, we could not do much, but as adults, let us not ignore our mothers’ experiences. Validate your mother’s suffering. If you can, let her know you know.