Mums in need of Mums

At what point do we cease to be our parents’ children and start mothering them?  If the various sociologists are to be believed, the cycle of life takes one from baby, to child, to teen, and eventually to adulthood, but somewhere along the way, the adults start retrogressing; mid-life crisis is very similar to the teens. Eventually our parents act more and more like children.

Whose responsibility is it to take care of them at that point?  Being African, the automatic answer would be that the children should take care of the ageing parents. However, what happens where there are 4 children? Or even worse, none?

The other day, I paid my mum a visit and I was shocked to find that she had aged. I have said it severally that she needs to realise that she is growing old and stop behaving like she has not, but now I realise that I was saying this from a purely academic perspective. Now I know she is growing old and I am scared.

Not because I need her to mother me, but because I am not too sure I know how to mother her. I can stand on mountain tops and scream at the world and tell them how wrong my mother was in how she brought me up, but fact is, I am who I am today because of her. She nurtured me, taught me things, disciplined me, shaped my fashion sense and greatly influenced my taste in men.

I think every woman secretly fears becoming her mother and we stop in shock when we hear her in our voice, when a friend notices a similarity of expression, when we look at old pictures and wonder whether the young woman in the photo is her or me.

Her ageing is forcing me to accept my own mortality and my own fallibility.  Will my daughter one day be in the same position I am; faced with an ageing mother, who has memories of all the great things she could have done, but having instead to deal with the reality of not being able to do even half of them. In that situation, what will my daughter's instinct be?  Will it be to run for the hills; distance herself as much as she can from this person her mother has become? Or will she find it in herself to show compassion and love?

I think back to all the great things we shared with my mum: playing ‘blada’ with store bought elastic because we lived in an area that had no bicycle repair men; learning to use the sewing machine; learning to cook many a dish; taking rides on our bikes and grabbing some fresh maize from a shamba (not necessarily ours) to go and roast; playing Scrabble to the highest possible total. I remember watching her in awe as she got ready for a party and thinking that I had the most beautiful mother in the world and when I saw her pictures, I had proof.

I saw her host and entertain guests with dishes she had learnt to make only a week back and carry herself with great aplomb where I now know she must have felt completely out of depth.

And now, here I am. Scared to see her age. Scared to know that this woman who is the reason I am who I am is no longer the woman she used to be. I know I have to step up to the plate and do some serious batting as far as her care and well-being is concerned. However, I must admit that I feel lost.

You see, as a mother, you grow into the position. You carry a baby in your womb for some 9 odd months; you watch that wrinkled mass turn into a walking, talking bundle of amazement; you watch your child learn to do stuff that makes you both proud and embarassed in equal measure; then your child is not quite a child anymore, but starts to grow her wings and becomes more and more independent every day.

However, as a child, you assume that your mother is all powerful, ever knowing, almost god-like…then suddenly she is not. 

It scares me!

I Will Shine

So, who am I that you should read my posts?

The modest and noble thing would be to say that I am nobody.  Just one of I-don't-know-how-many-billion-people who could be doing this..., but, that is just the point. I am ONE in several billion. Therefore, I am super unique and I believe I have a story to tell. Heck, not just one, but several.

Until recently, I thought that I had to have a captivated audience to tell my story, but I have been thoroughly disabused of that and I thank Kenyatta Otieno a.k.a 'YouK' a.k.a 'Mteka Maji' who helped set me up and get started on this blog. And though I have heard it a hundred times over, when he said it, it clicked! I just had to start, and whereas there may be no-one out there to hear what I have to say, I will have said it. Further, the more I say it, the better I shall become at saying it and one day I will be able to proudly say I have X number of words under my belt. As you are reading this article, I can say I have already surpassed my initial goals and there is at least one person who has read me.

I look at my life and I feel that I have a wealth of information: mistakes I made along the way; great decisions, bad decisions; happy days, sad days.... at the end of it all, we are the sum total of our experiences, so if any of my experiences can make anyone's life better.... Amen!

My favourite quote is one from Marianne Williamson (much quoted by the late great Nelson Mandela ... RIP) and from this I draw my inspirations regularly...

"Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate.  Our deepest dear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness that frightens us. We ask ourselves, "Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented and fabulous?" Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small does not serve the world. there is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people will not feel insecure around you.  We are all meant to shine, as children do. We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us. It is not just in some of us; it is in everyone and as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give others permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others."

When I reflect on this and think of myself as a child, I remember standing on tables to recite poetry, standing on bus seats to talk to the guy behind us, asking my parents' friends if I could make them a pancake (I had just learnt to make them on my own and needed to show off my skill) and I wonder who have I become. Do you know that I can make a leather bag from scratch by hand? Do you know that I can make a killer shepherd's pie? That I can do intricate embroidery? Probably not.  How sad for me and for all those others who hide their abilities so as not to appear too different.

One of my most vivid memories of hiding my brilliance (modesty aside), was when I was in high school. I went in to this institute of higher learning, full of good nature and determination to make something of myself. I was eager to learn and eager to show that I had learnt. I was not shy in the least, I would raise my hand at every opportunity I got, either to seek clarification or answer a question. I had even picked a seat that guaranteed me an unobstructed view of the blackboard (green boards, whiteboards and smart boards had not arrived by then). Further, as I am a visual creature, I also ensured I had an unobstructed view of the teacher and any demonstration he/she made. I was set to learn and to excel! I positioned myself at the front centre of the class.

Imagine my horror when a couple of weeks into high school, the teacher moved me to the last column, next to the wall and a few rows back. Even worse was the reason she gave; my hand shooting up all the time was proving to be a distraction to both her and the other students! That was my first lesson in dimming my shine. I relegated myself to a quiet, brooding back-bencher.

This continued for 4 years. The lesson to not be too loud or too confident was always imparted with a soft tone and guised as concern for others, but in truth all it did was cause me to check myself before raising my hand. I was encouraged to give others a chance to speak; not to intimidate others with my knowledge and confidence. How sad that the very people who were meant to be building my confidence and moulding me into a knowledge thirsty being, ready to learn and impart knowledge, were the very ones quashing my ambition and lowering my standards.

Fast forward to my life today and I find that I am having to unlearn some of these bad habits because, guess what? Knowledge that you possess, yet fail to share is as good as non-existent. This bad habit has had a financial cost to me. While running my consultancy business, I found that one of my greatest hindrances to business was not being able to confidently sit at the table and tell my prospective clients exactly what I am capable of; I would find myself downplaying my abilities and achievements so that I... (I can find no rational end to that statement).

I am however vindicated by my love for life. I live, I learn. If I can learn from others ... great!  If not, I will learn from my mistakes and hope never to have to learn the same lesson from the same mistake more than once.

So, I have decided that I will live Marianne Williamson's mantra:-

• I will embrace my power
• I will make no apologies for being brilliant, gorgeous, talented and fabulous
• I will not let my fear imprison me
• I will manifest God's glory in me
• I will by my actions liberate others 

I WILL SHINE!

Take a moment to remember something great about Nelson Mandela.

He shone!

Myth of Matching Skill to Economy

I love playing devil's advocate. For me it is a sure way of ensuring that the other side's point of view is not lost in the rigmaroles of saving face and maintaining the status quo.

I have heard it said over and over that our universities need to educate our youth to match the needs of our economy and I wonder what exactly does this mean? I have had youngsters come to me to ask what course they should take at college and my standard first question is; what do you think you should take and why? One of their standard criteria is that it needs to be marketable. When I ask them how they judge a course to be marketable, the general answer is one where they can get a job quickly and start earning money as soon as possible after completing their studies.

Each person seems to have a different view on which the ‘marketable’ courses are: ranging from medicine to teaching. Views seem to be generally based on their friends’ and families’ experiences.

On the flip side, when speaking to my age-mages (not quite youngsters anymore), all I hear is how graduates today are half-baked and not prepared for work; how frustrated managers are because you can rarely trust a graduate to complete a job and how they all wish the campuses would style up and spew forth competent graduates.

So yes! There is definitely a problem. However, I beg to differ with the majority of writers and opinion makers in what our problem is. I will be the first to acknowledge that the universities are not preparing our youth sufficiently for the job market. I am sick and tired of having fresh employs think that it is fine not to finish their work or to keep shifting blame instead of standing up and taking responsibilities. This however is not as a result of taking the wrong course. This, I feel, is as a result of what I would call ‘a complete failure to mentor the youth’.

Question is, whose failure? Here, I am extremely liberal in spreading the blame and if you do not see yourself in any of these classes, consider yourself a saint.

The Parents (to include aunties, uncles and elder siblings)

For failing to allow the children to do chores that are the backbone of work ethic.

Primary and Secondary School Teachers

For insisting that the children spend all their waking hours studying for exams, failing to realise that once the exams are done, these same children will still have to perform in a world where exams do not mean everything.

University Lecturers

For forcing the now young adults to cram millions of words in a specific order, numbing and at times even killing the ability to think.

Employers

For adopting a defeatist mentality where the youth are concerned. Mark my words, if employers fail to mould the young employees, they will suffer as their workforce dwindles and becomes more expensive.

The Young Adults themselves

For failing to realise that they are on a path to self-destruction and resisting all attempts to bring them back.

In all this however, I do not see the place of the ‘wrong’ course.   What I see instead is the wrong attitude and approach to life. Unfortunately, our educators have got it all wrong; introducing a course called ‘Life Skills’ will not teach life skills. This is something that has to be done by everyone who comes into contact with a child long before they have even thought about what ‘course’ to take in college. Our forefathers were right when they said it takes a village to raise a child.

So, what now? 

Having failed our children (think village not actual offspring), we now have a responsibility to teach them what we did not teach them in their younger years. 

What we do today will definitely dictate what kind of employees, managers and entrepreneurs we have tomorrow…

My 7 Year OId Teenager

Have you met my 7 year old teenager? Sounds like a bit of an oxymoron; after all you have to be at least 13 to be a teenager.

However, let’s consider; if you remove the age factor, what makes a teenager?

I have spent many a minute trolling the internet and hard copy literature (yes, hard copy books still exist) and the general agreement is that a teenager has the following characteristics:-

• Rapid mental and physical development

In the last one year, I have had to buy several pairs of shoes for my daughter and give them away within a couple of months because they could no longer fit. Last week, we had a wardrobe cleansing exercise where we discarded all clothes that could not fit the little girl and lo and behold! She now only owns 3 sweaters, 2 pairs of jeans and a smattering of tops. My 7 year old is reading 200 page novels in rapid succession and guess what? She can tell you the plot and analyse the characters of the book like she has taken high school literature classes. She recently told me (after we spent 2 Wednesdays in a row hunting down houses of our Bible Study mates and getting lost each time) that my friends live in very 'complicated' places. Wow! If that is not rapid mental and physical development, what is?

• Moodiness

Pouts, puppy dog eyes and belligerent body language are all something of a teen phenomenon. So when my 7 year old throws me a stormy look and stomps off to her room, I am partly shocked, partly amused. I just wonder, if this is a 7 year old teen tantrum, what will the teen teen tantrum look like?

• Increased awareness of self

When I was 7, I was happy to make an absolute spectacle of myself. Look at me, look at what I can do! When I was 14, on the other hand, I would want to melt into the background and be as invisible to the world as possible.  My daughter is already trying to become a wall flower. When we leave the house, she is very careful to make sure she has carried a novel and colouring book (our children are not allowed any gadgetry of their own). When we get to our destination, she will painstakingly endure the obligatory greetings then dissapear to spend time with herself, only to reappear like a ghost when she needs some food and ... promptly disappear again.

• Increased willingness to take on responsibility

Imagine my absolute delight and horror one day when my mother-in-law came to visit and my daughter (who is named after her) offered her a cup of tea. Delight as I felt I had taught my daughter well; to offer guests some refreshment. Horror because I had not yet made tea! Very maturely, and to my great relief, my daughter went to the kitchen, switched on the cooker and started brewing tea. She only called me into the kitchen, very discretely, to ask me to assist pour the tea into a thermos after which she proceeded to serve her grandmother. Suffice it to say, my mum in law was so delighted that she again announced that anyone named after her could only be a star. I, of course, agree.

• Increased independence

I may sound a little jaded when I share this, but I remember with nostalgia the days when my choice in clothing was the best. Now, if I bother to select an outfit, my fashion sense is immediately put under scrutiny. You need to understand; I was born and brought up in an age when we matched our clothing. Colour blocking is an alien concept. So when I select a pale blue top to be worn with blue jeans, I watch my daughter almost cringe. When left to her devices she will generally turn up wearing multi-coloured stockings, a dress-top (why can’t it just be one or the other?) that is not only multi-coloured, but also multi-patterned and multi-fabric’d, a sweater that only covers the arms and back, black shoes with neon laces and topped off with hair that is also multi-coloured. Amazingly, she still looks great.

I am wary of researching any deeper into the qualities and characteristics of teenagers lest I find even more proof that my 7 year old is actually a teen.

Further I find myself with 2 dilemmas: First, I also have a 4 year old daughter who idolises her 7 year old sister and learns from her even faster than she learns from me. Thus in another year or so, I will have a 5 or 6 year old teenager! Second, now that my 7 year old is showing all signs of being a teenager at this point, I shudder at what will happen when she turns 13! 

(GULP!!)

Lessons from My Father

As a girl, my adoration automatically goes to my father. I am blessed that I had a father worthy of that adoration. He was no saint, mark you. I remember several of his very human faults, but above all I remember all the good stuff.

I remember lessons he taught me in finance - you have to work to earn; in self confidence - he always told me how sharp and beautiful I am; in survival - Carol, for as long as you have a brain in your head, you will never sleep hungry; in cookery - how to make a killer burger; in hostessing - how to serve a beer and 2 fingers of whisky; in driving - imagine that all other drivers on the road are lunatics and you should be safe on the road. These are all  lessons that I carry with me to date and that have served me well to this day .

I remember particularly his lesson in keeping time. If my dad asked you to meet him somewhere at 9 o'clock, he would be there at 8:50, wait till 8:55 and leave. When I complained about it, he told me that if I was not there at 8:55 surely I had no intention to be on time. To this day I arrive at my appointments at least 10 minutes early.

This piece may be about lessons from my father and I would be doing a great injustice to my roots if I failed to mention some lessons from my father's father. I am the first grandchild on my dad's side of the family and my grandfather and I had a really deep connection. We got along great. As a little 10 year old, I had just started getting interested in american movies and little sponge that I was, I picked up everything including their poor pronunciation of words. My grandfather suddenly became hard of hearing when I used words such as 'I dunno', 'I wanna' and drummed it into me that a person who cannot pronounce right should not bother with the language. As a result, my language skills improved.

 More recently, I heard a lesson from my friend's dad that echoed my grandfather's; he said that a person who could not speak a language properly was just plain lazy. He said it so categorically that it shocked me, but on reflection, I saw his point. If I want to communicate in a language I have an obligation to learn it correctly.

Back to my own father... I also learnt from his mistakes. I saw him hang on to life in the city long after we could no longer afford to live there. As a result, we got broke fast and faced some really tough times. I know the importance of living within your means. I also learnt that all those things that we believe are a 'must-have' are only 'good-to-haves'; we survived on very little for a very long time. I have no hang-ups, I can live in a mud hut and eat ugali every day if necessary.

My dad loved music and I learned how to appreciate music from him. I can appreciate music from all manner of genres: reggae, rock, blues, country, afro and others whose names I don't know. I listen to songs about fathers and daughters and remember my own father fondly, flaws and all... I especially love Dance with my father by Luther Vandross - for anyone who has lost your father, lie to me and tell me that this song does not bring tears to your eyes.

I loved my dad dearly. He may be gone, but his lessons are here with me and he lives on as I impart them to my children (biological or otherwise).

Thanks Dad!

First Steps to ....

Woo hoo! Today my journey as a writer begins!

I have no clue where I am headed, but in life, I have come to learn that sometimes, you just need to go with the flow and discover yourself along the way.

Happy times ahead!