Of all the many things I’m grateful to my mum for:
She took me to church as a toddler, thereby planting my feet on the solid rock to stand. I have fallen several times from there, but I’ve never left.
She allowed me to roam freely in church until I found a constant place within the choir seat, wondering in my young mind how such melodies were formed; and she allowed me use her plates, cups, and spoons as I attempted to replicate what I have heard.
She took me with her faraway to a remote village in Ekiti state, when her husband would not use her company for a while, and there opened my heart to pure traditional African music and gave me a musical identity whose surface I’ve merely began to scratch.
She didn’t hold me back from daddy’s spanking, even though she came after to console me. And on the day I got naughty with Anu, a girl my age just around our house, she woke up to beat me seven strokes every morning for seven days, instilling in my heart that the way of the immoral man is not a path to be followed.
She named me Ìmísíolúwa, despite the difficulties she faced around my birth, the name that has since been the source of inspiration and creativity to me, and many others who have come across me.
She, despites her inadequacies and mistakes, fought for me to live, came back for me, and have ever since thrown her weight for me, just as much as she can.
A lot more to say…but I’ll hush before I start crying.
To everyone who is grateful for their mum, and to those whose mums are no longer here, and to those who never knew theirs, and to those just starting their journey as mothers, and to those looking forward to their own sons and daughters…to every mother who makes sacrifices day and night to put smiles on their sons and daughters faces…I’m saying…
Happy mothers day.
For Mrs Folasade Grace Owonikoko, nee Orogojimo, your sons love you.
#IamImisioluwa, and I’m grateful for the life I’ve had.
Sleep sweet.