The Sacrifices of Motherhood
What an observation of a stranger revealed about motherhood
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You wouldn't believe I went to school yesterday to submit an assignment. The frustrating part is that it was less than three pages long.
I was annoyed because why would a PhD holder not understand the use of technology in 2025?
I mean, she could’ve sent a working email for the submission. It’s easier that way. But she chose to make me commute to school, why?
On the road returning home, the disgust on my face was like a child who was pranked. I remember my mum tricked me into drinking agbo (it’s called herbs in English), and from the name, you should have an idea of how it tastes.
She poured the agbo inside a Pepsi bottle, drew me closer, and watched me shine my eyes upon realizing what just entered my mouth.
“Oya, gbemi beyen. Ó gbodo tu sita o,” (which means swallow it, you mustn’t spit it), she said, preventing me from spitting the content.
I sat by the window. It was a respite from boredom, or I was on the lookout for my soulmate. I didn’t fancy listening to music, especially by the window. I was afraid the correctness of my prognoses wasn’t farther than I thought.
After a while, the bus slowed down, and I had to plug in my earphones, hoping someone wouldn’t take an interest in my phone. I put Fireboy’s ‘Adedamola’ album on shuffle while viewing the passing of trees, vehicles, and something more interesting: two birds fighting over the same chick. She watched them go beak-for-beak while standing shamefully in the middle.
I planned on writing about the scene but I don’t want to be a third party to the melodrama. Birds have feelings too.
“Bottle water, mineral.’’
That was what I heard in the gridlock. It was so loud that I unplugged my earphones. I saw a woman standing by the window, looking faintly at me, while I guarded my phone.
Don’t mind me, I was just startled.
She went from vehicle to vehicle urging people to buy from her, while increasing her chant’s tempo.
The woman was sweating heavily but she didn’t wipe it off. Her reflexes were sharper than Oliver Kahn’s whenever she heard someone whistle. And her eyes were gloomy when she realized she wasn’t called.
She was focused on selling as much as she could.
The driver ignited the engine, and I saw her run for the last time. This time, her wrapper fell off, but does it even matter?
She didn’t care.
And that’s the sacrifice of motherhood. She kept going when the odds were against her.
I could see the pain on her face, but she knew there was a target to meet.
What would her children eat if she was shy of her wrapper falling on the road or screaming at the top of her voice?
Her resilience inspired me within the short period she was within reach.
Shout-out to every parent out there pushing through the tough times. I see you. Keep at it.
You’ll smile soon.
.
