THE UNSUNG HERO
BY Winnie Babirye
****************************************************************(Winnie’s Bio — Winfred Babirye is a proud wife to Elly Mulinda Ruharo. She is a mother, a grandmother and a born-again Christian. She loves helping women in her role as a Gender and Development Consultant. She has a BA in Literature from Makerere University as well as a Masters in Women and Gender studies. She lives and works in Kampala, Uganda.)
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The earliest memories of my mother were of a tall, dark skinned woman, smelling of a sweet mixture of Cussons talc powder, Imperial Leather soap and Imperial Leather body oil.
Whenever we changed our bed sheets and made our beds to her satisfaction she would reward us by sprinkling some powder onto the sheets. As the day wound down into evening, she would also supervise the last task of the day by making sure we were in our respective bedrooms. She would move from the girls’ bedroom to the boys’ bedroom. I don’t know when she went to bed.
Morning was always a hustle and bustle especially during school time. Maama would be up by the time we woke up. She would prepare our breakfast of bread, tea and sometimes hard-boiled eggs. When we returned at lunch time, we would hungrily eat the lunch set before us. We would thank her for the meal — webale kufumba Maama — then return to school for the afternoon sessions. On return in the evening she would be at home waiting for us either in the kitchen or in the backyard. She would say, “kulikayo Winnie” — welcome back home! She would welcome everyone this way. She would then ask us to bathe, change into our home clothes, wash our uniforms and then help ourselves to tea.
In the evening all my siblings would come back home and it would become a hive of activity. Everyone vied for Maama’s attention. I realized early in life that the naughty people drew attention to themselves. The two elder boys always seemed to be fighting while my younger brother was bent on destroying our toys. These would always attract Maama’s discipline or occupy her to make sure they didn’t fall into mischief. My twin sister was sickly and had a very poor appetite which also made it necessary for Maama to pay special attention to her.
I endeared myself to my mother by being the ‘good one’. Though we had assigned chores at which we took turns, I took on extra responsibility of being at hand in case my mother needed some help. This meant being in the kitchen most of the time. Maama would show me how to cook, how to organize the tray with Taata’s cutlery and she would even allow me to carry the tray laden with Taata’s tea things. She would always compliment me on the work.
In the kitchen Maama would tell me stories of her life. Through these talks I got to know that she was from a poor family in Masaka and was raised by a single mother. She told me her father loved her but he died when she was very young. She grew up with her two brothers and mother. I remember her mentioning her sister, Kasalina, who I think died when my mother was still young. I would not ask for details, not wanting to interrupt our conversations.
Many times this reverie would be interrupted by my younger siblings requiring mother’s attention having gotten tired of the distracted attention of my elder sisters’ babysitting. The crying children would be brought within earshot and Maama would reluctantly ask them to be brought to her. I would await another chance when I could be alone with Maama for the stories to continue.
I remember my mother as a quiet, gentle woman, even when she punished us by caning us with the midrib of a banana leaf, she never really looked scary. She never shouted at us or used bad language. She was gentle yet strong. She disciplined everyone and used the cane, a pinch, or even just a look! She was also predictable. I knew when I was due for punishment and would even volunteer my own cane. This made my twin sister so angry with me.
“Maybe she could have forgiven us,” she would say to me, “but you think you are very good so you have made her cane us!” Yet many times I was forgiven because I would acknowledge my fault and ask for forgiveness.
Weekends were Maama’s time for rest. She would leave most of the supervisory work to my three eldest sisters. They would assign chores to us according to our ability. We would wash up after breakfast, sweep the courtyard, wash clothes or scrub the outer verandah. Our eldest brother usually ran errands outside the home for our parents because he could drive. When Maama finally came out of her bedroom, down the stairs to the outer courtyard, I would envision her as a queen walking through a guard of honor of her loyal subjects. We would be sweeping the compound as she passed by and we would kneel to greet her.
Wasuze otyanno Maama? How did you sleep, Maama?
Bulungi, mwasuze mutyanno? Mwebale emirimu, nga mukoze bulungi! Well, how did you sleep? Well done, you are doing a good job!
Maama never withheld a compliment and neither did she withhold a correction, but always without ridicule.
Growing up with my mother was always a cycle of nurturing and learning. She was a stickler for details and would supervise the work she gave us to do at home. She had all the time to make sure that we did everything properly as she was always present. When I was trying my hand at cooking, she showed me how to cook steamed matooke wrapped in banana leaves.
There was a specific manner in which the banana leaves were meant to be placed in the pan. To my untrained eye, I did not know the direction they are supposed to face. Therefore I would place the banana leaves in the pan and completed the whole process to my satisfaction. When she came for inspection she told me I had placed the leaves in a wrong way and had to redo the process. She would unwrap the food and calmly tell me to follow her directions again. This process lasted no less than thirty minutes. This meant the trying of my patience, my attitude, and my pride. Maama did not expect me to sulk and did not expect me to get annoyed. She would ask, “How will you learn if I don’t show you?” At that moment this question was hurtful to me but now I know she knew better and it was for my good. Maama would repeat this process untiringly, with all my siblings. She taught us how to do things and do them well.
Work with my mother was never complete and she would always find something else that needed to be done. Idleness was never allowed and whenever she asked, “What you are doing?” I could never say “nothing”. Instead I would say I have just finished this and was planning to do that. Then she would tell me to get on with it!
There was no excuse for leaving a mess just because you did not make it.
She would respond, “Yes, you don’t know who left that mess but now that you are here, deal with it. The person who left it there most likely didn’t realize that they had made a mess or are not sensitive to messes otherwise they wouldn’t have left it there in the first place. If a stone hits you and you don’t remove it, most likely it will hit you again.”
Mother not only taught us household chores but livelihood skills like gardening. Though we grew up in Kampala city, there were still a lot of vacant plots in the neighborhood which we converted into gardens. We would grow food like potatoes, cassava, beans, peas and maize. I remember making mounds of earth to plant sweet potatoes and intercropping them with beans. At harvest time, there would be this meal with fresh bean stew and sweet potatoes or potatoes mashed with beans.
There was never lack of food at our home and mother never allowed wastage or extravagance. She told us not to throw away food because there would always be someone somewhere in need of food. I would wonder why hungry people had to come to our house to look for food! I now realize that my mother fed the community especially children. Everyone was welcome to eat at our home. Our friends from school would visit and have a meal before continuing to their own homes. She would offer meals to our numerous friends who would then participate in washing the dishes alongside whomever invited them. Our school was nearby and many people used the footpath by our home to go to the other parts of the neighborhood. Apart from the food we grew in the gardens, our pantry was always stocked with posho (maize meal flour) and beans, rations my father was entitled to as a police officer.
LEAVING HOME FOR THE FIRST TIME
When we were thirteen years old we went to a boarding school run by nuns. We did not do our Primary Leaving Examinations very well and had to repeat Primary Seven. Maama was reluctant to let us go to the school but she had to give in to our father’s reasoning. “The girls are having a very soft life that is why they are not doing well in school,” he said. I remember the tearful parting, my twin sister and I cried and cried. Though maama held back her tears, we saw her despair. She promised to come to see us at school but it was long before we saw her again.
We had to stay at school with just a week’s break between the first and second term therefore we could not even come back to our home. We remained in Masaka with our uncle, one of Maama’s brothers. This was a very hard time for me because I missed my mother so much that I could hardly eat. My uncle’s wife was a good woman who loved us but I wanted my mother and the normalcy of being able to go back home to her.
I tried to make friends at the school although my twin sister was better at making friends than I so we shared the friends she made. We used to fetch water from a water pump located at the nearby secondary school. Sometimes the elder girls would bully us and we would have to continue to the dug well which was in Pilato’s banana plantation. It was scary for us and we cried all the time we went to fetch water. I associated Pilato to Pontius Pilate who crucified Jesus so I was terrified of him. I do not remember ever having the courage to look at his face, as a child I remember someone very tall, with a very loud voice. Because of our incessant crying, we were stopped from going to the well. A few girls were ordered to fetch water for us because of superstitions about twins. Crying at the well was thought to have severe social repercussions. We added to the burden these girls already had but eventually they became our friends.
One day Maama came to visit us at school. She carried along our last born brother who was about six months. We were very happy to see her but the joy was diminished knowing she would only stay for a short while. When it was time to leave we cried and clung to her. We didn’t want to let her go. She assured us that it wouldn’t be long before we went back home. I lived for the day the year would end so that I would go home. After doing the Primary Leaving Exams, our father came for us and took us home. I was able to see Maama again. She checked our hair, nails, ears and was concerned that we had lost so much weight.
Time flew swiftly by and we had to continue to another boarding school for Secondary education. This school was not very far from home and we were able to see mother regularly. Maama would make sure we had pretty things to go with at every beginning of term. She would also prepare roasted groundnuts, hard corn, popcorn and hard boiled eggs to take along as ‘grub’. We loved this school and made many friends. We are still friends with many of them and we have been able to meet at reunions and now have a Whatsapp chat group. We still look back and laugh about the experiences at school.
I moved to a day school for my Higher School Certificate. This was during a lot of political upheaval in the country characterized by violence and instability. At home, I was once again protected by the stability of seeing Maama at the end of the day. At this school I made two valuable friends who are also still my friends. One lives in the United Kingdom and we speak on the phone and the other one lives in Uganda. These two girls helped me to settle into the school. On my first day at school I found an empty seat and took it. As soon as I had sat, a boy came and said, “So who is this queen who expects me to bring her a chair, get off my chair!” The two girls intervened, “Don’t you see she is new here, you don’t have to be so rude!” They had brought chairs for themselves. One of them offered me her chair then went and brought another one. We became friends from that time. Jane would become a very close friend who would walk with me to hospital when my mother fell very ill.
This normality was short lived because during this time maama started to fall ill though I hadn’t noticed it. I observed our eldest sister was taking on much of Maama’s responsibilities around the house and Maama was being taken to hospital more frequently. When she would come back home she would remain in the bedroom. We all pitched in and I also developed a bond with our eldest sister as an assistant of sorts.
During my final exams for the Advanced Certificate of Education, my mother fell very ill and was admitted in hospital. My father and siblings would go to hospital but I was told it would interfere with my studies so I rarely went. However, as soon as I completed my exams, I began taking care of Maama alongside my paternal aunt. My father and the rest of the siblings were either at work or at school so I had the opportunity of taking care of my mother. My elder siblings would relieve me in the evening and I would return to hospital in the morning.
As I nursed her, we continued our conversations at hospital and my mother told me the dreams she had for me. She wanted me to go to the university and become a nurse. She also wanted me to get married after my studies and prayed I would get children. I had begun looking forward to being in hospital with her but mostly I looked forward to the time she would get better and we would return home. However, after three months in hospital my mother was not getting better but only worse.
