Confessions of a Mama's Boy!

My mama

I hate rap music. I really do. But Tupac Shakur stole my heart with his mad lyrics. My buddy G and I usually tease each other with his famous line: You claim to be a player but I have f**ked your wife! Hit ‘Em Up is pretty dope. Classic! Epic! But that isn’t why I love Pac. I love Pac because of his timeless hit single. I love him because of the track I have as the ringtone for the only woman in my life. I adore him because he had the words when I could not, cannot. I love Pac because he pulled the words out of my mouth directed at her. I love Pac because he wrote and sang “Dear Mama.” I love him because he was, and still is a Mama’s Boy!

Pac says, “Aint a woman alive that could take my mama’s place…I can always depend on my mama…I gotta thank the Lord that you made me!”

“Can’t run away and leave my mama alone, cause I am her boy, mama’s boy. Just don’t run off and leave my mama at home,  cause I am her boy, mama’s boy. Just don’t.” These are the words to Justin Bieber’s single ‘Mama’s Boy.’ Ok, I don’t particularly like Justin or his song, but if anyone sings about his mother, then we can definitely connect.

If there is one thing I am proud of, that would be that I am in my 20s and am proud mama’s boy!

This Tuesday evening, just home from work, cold, drenched and hungry I reflect on my brief life and the impact my mama has on my life. Whatever I am, whatever I hope to be can be owed to the only woman in my life: my mama.

I am a mama’s boy!

When I was young I had a serious case of nose bleeds. If it rains, I bleed. If it heats up, the nose taps flood. If I get a slight headache, the bleeds start. What I never missed while going to school was a pair of handkerchiefs. One evening, it rained heavily. We were seated in the living room when my nose acted up. This time the normal first aids refused to work and I was losing a lot of blood. Laying prostrate on that cold, rainy night I saw the look on my mother’s face, the worry in her eyes and I literally cried. Somehow I felt it was my fault that she was worried. I wished the bleeds would stop not for me but so that she could stop worrying. Many years later I still get worried sick if she as much as contracts a common cold.

One time, close to a year ago she had a case of Malaria and Typhoid. She was sick, not seriously but sick. I remember praying to God to let me be sick but she becomes well. You see, my mama is literally my life.

Last week I was in town for classes and I met this guy, a friend who sells jackets. Mike was his name. He was seated next to his stall, hunched back and in deep thought. He looked like he was disturbed about something. I asked what the matter was and he told he just got a call that his mama was sick. You see that to me was a mama’s boy.

I am a mama’s boy!

She has been the solid anchor of our family, my mama. She has sacrificed a lot, gave up so much just so that my siblings and I can have a better shot at life. I am who I am today wholly because of that beautiful woman, my mama. My grandfather used to say we would be nothing but for my mama. It is not because she gave birth to us, No. it is because she gave her whole for my brothers, sister and I.

Madea and my sister

As a boy I would rush home from school, get to the kitchen and prepare her anything available to eat. I would serve the food on the table, in front of her favorite seat. Then I would run to the gate to wait for her. I would direct her to the seat and get her food to eat. I would get disappointed if she doesn’t eat. I would get mad if my brothers would touch her food. That was me, that was us: my mama and I.

The trips to town were the best. She would go to the bank. I used to marvel at the massive banking halls, the queues and people. Later, we would go for lunch and my staple dish was usually fries and a soda. We would go shopping and I would push the trolley as she drops item into it. On our way home I would sit next to the window, looking at the trees fly past, little boys waving. Sometimes I would wave back.

Even later when I was shipped off to boarding school, I always cried on the opening day. I never wanted to leave home. I thought, then, it was because I hated the school’s food but later I realized I never wanted to leave my mum. She was my life. Visiting days in school were the best. When she would come. She never missed any.

I am a mama’s boy!

There were also the bad times with my mum. The beatings and punishment were a horror in our household. Mama used to beat us like she was on a mission: to seriously wound or worse kill. She would beat us with anything within reach, from shoes to cooking sticks; slaps to wooden hangers; ropes to electric wires. Even after all of that, she, like all moms, kept her arms open for all of us.

She taught me all there is to know about this life. She was the first to teach me how to make money. She was the first to teach me about women and dating. Daddy later took over and books covered the embarrassing questions. Avoid hot women, she would say. Even though she understood that she could not teach me how to be a man, (that was my Dad’s forte) her influence on my life today is strong and unmatched. If God would let me live my life all over again, I would choose to be with her even if it means that we live penniless.

I am a mama’s boy!

I feel safe whenever I am with her. I feel complete; whole. I am not afraid to be myself with her. I feel capable, able, and strong in her presence. She does not have to do anything at all. Just her mere presence, her laughter activates my creative energies and power. The reason I go home every weekend is because that is where my true source of strength comes from. The reason I talk to her every single day is because when I do that, I sort of recharge. My power levels go up. My mama has this way of making me feel alright when the odds are stack up against me. When the world seems a tough wall to break, she is the ladder to the other side. My mama is one wise woman. Her is word is sage; her deed honorable.

I am a mama’s boy!

My mama and I communicate like old friends. This is because we are just that, friends! While in college, my roommates would constantly be surprised the way I talk to my mother. Harrison would say, “You talk with her like your age mate.” Okumu would say, “She is like your girlfriend.” I always chuckle and smile inwardly for you see my mama and I do not have the formalities that define a parent-child union. This is the beauty and power of our perfect relationship. We are friends.

I finally got round to watching the movie “Think like a Man.” Is it just me or Zeke, the player guy looks like Ramah Nyang the Kenyan journalist? They might be related. Anyway in the movie there was the self-confessed mama’s boy, Michael. The way he relates with his mama is just like me. We can lounge and chat, my mama and I, hours on end about politics. We can be in the kitchen cooking while discussing the weather. We can be seated on the table reading the papers. We can do anything. Lately, we have started discussing investment options. She says I have finally come of age, I pay my taxes.

Pac’s mother taught him three things: respect, knowledge and search for knowledge. You see my mama is a teacher and the book bug sort of runs in me too. I am a teacher. My mama would tell me to read hard and pass my exams. She had high expectations of me and I never disappointed. The joy in her eyes whenever I showed her my report form or transcript was priceless. During my graduation ceremony I could see she was the happiest of all. She had invited her friends and I could tell right there mama was proud of me. I was happy too, really happy because I made my mama happy.

My mama taught me to be myself even when the world around me wanted me to be someone else. My mama taught me to stand for myself, fight for my space. She made me learn the power of success and power. Mama taught me to be bold, confident and self-assertive. She taught me to respect myself and people around me, especially women. Mama had me realize so early in life that I can have whatever I want so long I work hard at it. She was right!

I am a mama’s boy!

Now that I have a job and live on my own, mama would sometimes call and ask if I have eaten. I would tell her I was tired and made tea. She would get angry, mixed with honest concern. ‘Tea won’t keep you till morning,’ she would say. Sometimes she would call to ask if I am in the house and safe. I would tell her, jokingly, I am big boy now. She would say I can never be too big for her.

Whenever I have money I go out on Fridays or Saturdays to jive and drink some wine. Mama would call to ask if I am out. Yes I would say. Keep safe, she would sign off. You see the big girl and I share a connection deeper than anything in the world. She is my mama.

I am a mama’s boy.

Pac says, “There is no way I can pay you back.” I can never repay the love and affections shown to me by my mother. I can only hope my deeds and actions would be sufficient in at least showing her that I appreciate and never take for granted everything she has done for me. That is why I always drop everything I do when she calls for me. I never argue with her. I try as much as possible to help her out when I can.

I will build her a bigger and better house. I will buy her a car. I will take her to all the nicest holiday destinations. I will give her all the finest things in the world, she deserves them anyway. But they won’t be enough to repay her.  

When the time comes, I will take my girlfriend home to meet my mama. She has to. Her opinion would be the only one that matters. If my mama doesn’t like her, the girl has to go!

I am a mama’s boy!

I take great pride in that phrase!

To me a mama’s boy is a man who knows and appreciates the love that is given to him by his mom. He is wise enough to know that sometimes the instincts and emotions of a man need the softness and wisdom of a mother.

I am a mama’s boy and I am damn proud of it.

-Don Eddie Ombagi-