Sunday, 13 May 2012

Mothers Day 13/5/2012

My mother, Mrs. Paulina Maya Choram, in her traditional regalia

"This is dedicated to my precious mum, Koko, and all the wonderful mother all over the world. This poem is to you all in as much as it is for my mom."
                                                              - echoes of the hills 

Tororot, I pray for my mum today,
Though I be far from her reach
I know that her love remains rich
Funny how, try as I might, the English
Language is under stocked of words of praise

When young, my mum chewed bananas
And fed me with them (there were no blenders);
She carried me on her back, metal box on her head
All the way from Kapenguria to Kacheliba
When water was scarce, she gurgled water in her mouth
Held me mid-air and sprayed water on my body
Back then, there were no handkerchiefs,
So mum sucked mucus from my nostrils
Then spat it out

“My son,” she always tells me,
“Good fortune is never pulled by a rope—
Be patient, don’t lie, and don’t steal”.

Whenever I see my mum
I forget all my problems; she is like a sanctuary to me,
She is like middle pole of a hut, holding my emotions,
There is something about mothers, I don’t know which,
Pulling us to the center of our existence

My mum is the uncrowned goddess,
The unsung heroine, the unrewarded achiever,
Other people have their achievements written on paper,
My mother’s are spread across the years of my life,
The referees to her curriculum vitae are Tororot and the
hills of Kacheliba,
Like all success stories, she knows pain too,
I don’t know where she gets her strength from—
most probably from Tororot— because her spirit
is sturdy like the bark of an akoretee tree;
Most mothers buy their sons gifts, my mother
Gave me hope and cheer, with it she always tells me,
“Mondanyu (my son), all my blessings are upon you,
Usichafuke roho (don’t get your spirit dirtied), utafaulu
(you will succeed)”

You all know this Tororot, so I pray to you today,
To thank you for keeping us well through the heat of the day
For all along, no searing heat has burnt out our energies
And for my mum, she has always kept pace
You hold the future, Tororot, a mere pilgrim like me
Cannot predict tomorrow, you know how our graphs will rise
You are the owner of the Cartesian Plane
But if you will allow, Tororot, this Mother’s Day
Grant my mum a little more cheer, a little more of the echo,
And in your divine plan, one day, reward her
Through me or others (you work in mysterious ways)
With a little more of what other pilgrims have
This will be to your glory, and imagine Tororot
How that will speak more of the value of Hope?


Sherry Blue Sky said...

So beautiful. I love the photo of your mother. And all of her wise advice to you. You have heard her well, and she must be very proud. I, too, hope Tororot blesses her with a little more of what she needs. It was lovely to read this tribute today, to your mother, and all mothers.

madhumakhi said...

What a fitting tribute to your mother! Show her this poem of yours: it's the best mother's day present you can ever give her. As it is she has reason enough to be proud of you. All her love and hard work in bringing you up shows. To have a son who appreciates the value of her love so deeply is the biggest fruit of her love. To have a son who can express that appreciation so eloquently is more than what she could have asked for. When she reads this poem of yours her heart will burst with pride. Show it to her.

echoesofthehills said...

Thank you so much, Koko. Yes, I celebrate you too, Koko. SMILES.

echoesofthehills said...

Thank you so much Behen. Unfortunately, my mum is not able to read this but I will explain it to her what I have written. I am very proud of her, always.

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