I have known my mum for a long time, almost since my first day on earth. Now, people with good memory probably remember knowing their mum since the very first day but for me it took a while to catch on. My first memory of my mum is when I was 2 years old maybe. I remember I woke up one morning feeling hungry and I was like “let me wake up that woman that feeds me”. I used to sleep in my mum’s bedroom but on a separate bed. So anyway I was hungry and I wanted to wake her up. Before I could do it I thought it would make sense to come up with a name to call her because I might have a better chance of waking her up if I was calling her something while I shook her this way and that. After studying it over for a while I decide to call her ma-mi – I have always been about keeping things simple. So then I walked to her bed and shook her as hardly as I could and shouted ma-mi, ma-mi a dozen times over until she woke up.
As she woke up – yawning and wiping her eyes – I could see tea, bread, eggs and all the things I was accustomed to having at breakfast coming my way. Wait… I am not sure if that is what I saw, I think I might have started having that type of breakfast a few years later. I saw food at any rate, a great deal of it. I always loved seeing my mum, you know; it always assured me of eating. Now I love contacting her because it always ensures that I get money or help in another form when I am in a tough fix. I admire my mum, she has always loved me, notwithstanding the fact that my behaviour makes me very hard to love. Not only that but she raised me well; clothed me, fed me, cared for me in good and poor health and even sent me to school – a thing that I did not agree with. See, I couldn’t stand education when I was young, I can now, as long as it’s someone else getting educated. So, aside from the fact that she persisted on the matter of me going to school and enhancing my knowledge, her child raising record is mostly flawless. I honestly think if she was not responsible for me having over 15 years of schooling in one form or another I would love her more but still I love her plenty, even more than I love myself and that is saying a lot by the way, because no man, woman or any other living thing as ever had more self love than I do.