Its been a month that I published an article. Pressures of being an "adult" student and work have been so taxing on me. I feel relieved now and look forward to other things. The Lord has been wonderful to me. The end of my study coincides with the 17th anniversally of my late mother who was called into the glory of the Lord on 17th July 1991. I was away to a boarding schooling and never saw the last moments of her life and what she could have said to me.
Its a painful experience to loose a parent, a mother for that matter. It is even worse when it happens when you only clock 15, young, immature and in dire need of parental care. The last day that I saw my ill mother was on 14 May 1991, in the company of my friend Martin..It was Kamuzu day..I have one photo with Martin..we were the small boys of our class then...interms of looks. It was the day that I cried for my mother while she was still alive. I thought she was loosing her battle with life. She consoled me as a brave woman with authority over her son. It was an emotional moment but she assured me she will be fine. My own father, who was taking care of her put on the face of a brave man and both them told me not to worry and concetrate on my studies. Both were teachers..and teachers want the best of their children.
It was taxing moment for me. Very emotional one. I went into prayer for my mother on a number of occassions with prayer mates, Haxwell and other friends in our SCOM group. It was such a beautiful Wednsday, July, 17, 1991..that i was so much into my books and had been preparing for my form 1 History exam. Evenets began to unfold. After class..I was asked to see the headmaster and they put me in Government White Landrover to see my late uncle Chipundwe in Rumphi town...we never found him...end of story i thought until in the middle of the night when the unexpectec happened. All my roommates were awakened except me..my bags packed while I was asleep. It looked like I was a mad person on pills and my tenders not sure how to handle me. When I woke up..the face of my uncle and my mums boss in the middle of night was evidence that my dear Jerine was no more...I have a few recollection...I know what has happened...Life was not be the same. Getting into that MG 347K lorry in the middle of the night, next to the coffin of my mother, in the cold of the night, as we meandered through the dusty roads of Kazuni, Mpherembe, Kafukule up to Hannock Ngwira Village has never escaped my memory. Jerine was no more. It was real. No jokes. The sight of my siblings, much younger that me at 15, added more pain. The thought of an elder brother who had to kept out of the know to finish a Junior exam..put much burden on me. I couldnot handle the situation. So we laid her to rest in the afternnoon of July 18, 1991 at our Hannock Ngwira home. Death is painful.
As I recall the events surrounding my mothers passing away, today I celebrate what a great person she had been. From a humble upbringing, being raised by brothers, after my maternal grandparents early death, my mother had been a symbol of resielence. The spirit that i borrowed and I live with it. It is now to celebrate her beautiful life and the never gave up spirit that I feel i got from her in the fifteen years that she had for me. The only thing, that sometimes exerts pain, is that she has not been able to see the fruits of her labour. Dear mother, I will live your dream...and become a son a mother can be proud of.
If you have a mother,celebrate with her. I miss such a thing. I wish she was still here to celebrate my successes. What the Lord gives, he takes away as well. Lets cherish every second of life with family, friends and loved one.
Rest in Peace Jerine Lonely Kundabene!
