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She Wasn’t the Daughter She Wanted, It’s Fair to Say She Killed Her
I refused to be the victim, too.
Ladies and gentlemen, I have a story to tell….. Once I was like you, I mean some of you. I had a mother. She was beautiful. My mother was a gentlewoman.
She fought her battles silently, she watched from the sidelines always. She loved her man and children and gave them her best. Her husband was disowned by his family when he married her, but that was okay because the two had each other.
My mother was not weak. My mother was a fighter. My mother was a survivor. My mother was a mother. Heaven is lucky to have her in its reach!
My mother was illiterate. She could neither read nor write. It wasn’t her fault, and I am not coming to her defense with this because she is my mother, but truly, her inability to read and write didn’t define her. Back in their days, going to school was not for everyone, especially not for a girl child.
On the other hand, my father was one of the few who went to school. Somehow, my grandfather was capable and sent his eldest son to school. My father used to tell me stories of how he was his father’s favorite child out of eight. I mean, my father was not only the…
