I wrote this a couple of months ago for World Pulse when we were asked to write with the theme 'Unending miracle'. At that time, it was my mother. It still is.

"Mommy I cannot find my biro", I said, dressed in my pinafore, blouse and white stockings for school, my face glistening from the baby oil my mother always applied generously. I was barely eight years old, but I knew something was wrong. She didn't say anything and so it confirmed it; something was wrong. I knew because amongst other things my elder brother and I now had to share a four-slice pack of biscuits during break at school, just like we were sharing everything else.

And she had tears in her eyes now; I could swear I saw a couple run down her face but she brushed them away so quickly I wasn't sure and besides I had a more pressing need : I needed a biro for school.

It was 1994, without the internet (at least to us), without mobile phones, and without our daddy who was 'far away' on a training course. Mom had stretched what little food, money, and comforts we had without us noticing till that morning when she shed tears because she couldn't afford three naira for a biro for me.

Now I don't remember where she 'produced' one from that day, and it doesn't really matter. Daddy came back soon after, and things have been better ever since. That morning has been etched in my mind forever however, and was my first real life definition of what being a mother is all about.

Everyday I watched her put us first, cleaning scraped knees, packing lunches, washing my hair, putting me to sleep after any of the numerous nightmares I had as a child, picking up after us, and the beautiful stories she told. As we grew up, she turned counselor/friend, enemy when we didn't agree on issues, and friends again when we came back to cry on her shoulders. She's held our family together, and I've watched her severally deny herself so the family can get the best of what we need.

I look forward to having my own family soon, and I can only pray I am half of what she is to us to my family. She's my unending miracle, she is my mother.

*Biro = pen

** The original post is here http://www.worldpulse.com/node/34852

Comment on this Post


I find such stories touching. It is women like your mother who make this world a better place, and make us want to come out and make their lives better. My mother will get you the smallest thing for your birthday, never expensive, and you know what, for me, its the idea that she even remebered and she wanted to do something.

Cherish your mothers ladies, they do a lot for us.

Gertrude Bvindi

Do we have the same mom? Because they are alike in a lot of ways! My mother's gifts can be inexpensive as well, but I find that I cherish them more!

I'm glad you liked it Gertrude!

CNCA @chiomachuka on Twitter

I realy appreciate it that you write over your mother...... Mother is the symbol of love and comfort. I can surely say that what you are and what you have achieved only because of your mother.

Peace Seeker,

Feel so sad after reading your story. I really know what you feel about your mom because I lost my beloved grandma who took care me since I was born till 15 years old, in the end of 2008 as well. I everyday cried in almost 3 months period. I couldn't forget her. I'm a bit better right now but she is always in my heart and soul. Wish you meet great family in future as you wish for.


I'm so sorry about the death of your grandma, and I hope you feel better now. She's in a better place now, and you better not forget her! Thank you for your warm wishes, I wish you the same!

CNCA @chiomachuka on Twitter