First Year in Memory…Sissy Kai Marrah

A year today, my mama took the one-way flight to Heaven. My heart froze. My whole world sank. I knew that Sissy Kai would not have hopped on that flight if she had a better option. I knew she had none left, because she so wanted to be with her boys and to hum lullabies to her grandkids. But she was summoned, and it was a divine order which no woman born of another has dishonoured.

I had a special bond with my mom—I was neither her first nor her lastina but I was the child, in my view, who mirrored best her personality. I was always by her side: when she went to the stream at the break of dawn to launder our items; when she went all the way to Portee or Lowcost Market on foot; when she stayed up at night to fill up transparent sachets with Kool-Aid or water and refrigerate them for sale; when she prepared meals for the family. I was always there to listen to Si’Kai’s never-ending stories about her life, family and vast experiences from childhood to adulthood. I sat beside her many nights when she would cry after any clash with our dad.  Like many mothers back in the day, she wrestled with all the shortcomings in trying to raise outstanding kids in an impoverished society. I vowed secretly that I would make her happy. I vowed to pursue excellence to end her poverty and misery. Sadly, most of those struggles still persist to this day. It is for her and all women especially that I commit to echo demands for good governance, honest and sound leadership, independent judiciary and a thriving economy. It is so that women would not spend their entire lives navigating the artificial barriers posed by the dereliction of political and moral duties. 

I have come to full realization that I am the full image of my mother. Fierce, vivacious, audacious, optimistic, witty and smart. She was a genius in dishing out monikers. While our father manned the territory of stern discipline, our mother fertilized us with humoured affection. She was a gifted storyteller, proficient in several native languages and adept at cracking jokes. She even joked about her chemo sessions, the nurses and attendants and often amused the other women who were ravaged by the treatment. Si’Kai brightened the cancer ward with her undiminished spirit.  

My mother stood out wherever she went—she was daring, unafraid and always eager to speak her mind. Despite her little education, she dedicated her life to the primary education of boys and girls in the morning and grown-ups in adult literacy programme in the evening. She could not have felt fulfilled anywhere than in the teaching profession. It was not something she and our dad did to survive. Teaching and giving was their passion. I always tell people that our parents gave us two things—God and books in that order.   

Earlier this morning, I listened to dozens of her voice notes to me. Back then, I cringed at how endless they seemed; today I realized they have become very serviceable in preserving and immortalizing her witty utterances. Importantly, what has been reinforced in me this past year is that death empties us but love refills us. Death demoralizes our humanity, but memories make it flourish. 

Si’Kai lives on in our fertile hearts and memories. Because love is stronger than death, I take solace in the fact that her death is already surmounted by the unceasing love for her memories and the commitment to her spirit.