Letter from Limpopo: Thabiso Sekhula says our mothers sheltered us when we had nothing, and put food on the table when we were hungry
Milk and tea, cookies and cream and even a nail and a finger don’t compare to the relationship between a Limpopo mother and her sons. And if that son works out of the province, this relationship gets an added layer of “ngwanaka wa makgoweng”, my child in the city, which is an extra source of pride.
I’m not joking. Go on any social media and search for the word “bomma”, the sePedi word for mom. There are thousands of memes and jokes about it. From how one marries in Limpopo at their own risk to how Limpopo sons will drive 400 km every month just for a plate of morogo cooked by their mothers.
As much as this Mzansi-famous relationship is a fountain of comedy, relationships between Limpopo mothers and their children are actually very admirable.
If you check a group on Facebook called Limpopo houses, lots of results come up with the giant mansions these kids build for their parents. For some it’s seen as the worst type of black tax, but none of the people building these mansions see it as such.
As my Limpopo friends say, their mothers sheltered them when they had nothing, made ends meet and put food on the table, even at times where there was nothing.
They sacrificed so much to ensure that their kids could go to universities far away for a better education – including many market women, who sent their kids to university from money made selling food and fresh produce on the street.
Hence being in the city is seen as a big achievement back home, an indication that all our parents’ struggles and hard work have paid off and their kids are big-shot city people. So when the kids come back home, as will be the case this December, you will know.
When we buy new cars, the first person to see it is our mother. Like a religion, we drive all the way back to see the joy on the faces of our mother, to share our joy and affirm once again that we did it together. That it was worth it.
It is for these reasons that a Limpopo child’s success is rooted so deeply in ensuring that our mothers are taken care of, starting with that Top Billing mansion.
I remember, in my first year of university, I could not wait to go home to Limpopo for holidays. When I arrived home after a five- to six-hour trip by public transport, my mother would have my favourite meals ready – without fail. It is in this gesture that our mothers gave to us all they
could. Even when they could not show off through material offerings, their hands always made us feel loved and taken care of.
Which is why we could never call it tax. It is a labour of love.
Pictured above: Drawing of an African mother
Image source: @PsiconautaH
