A Woman Like No Other

It was our school’s report card giving for the second quarter. Most of my classmates came with their moms. Some of them had their father with them and there were those who brought their aunts and uncles.

I had no one with me. When everyone had left, I approached our class adviser.

“Teacher Jason, may I see my grades? My mother couldn’t come.” There must have been something in my voice that made him look up from what he was reading on the computer.

“Your mother didn’t come in the first quarter, either. Is there a problem?” He asked.

“My mother is very busy. She’d have already left for work when I get up in the morning and I’d have already slept when she arrives at night.” I explained.

Teacher Jason showed me my grades but didn’t give me my report card.

I’ve seen a lot of mothers, but my mom is not a woman like them.

There are women who spend a lot of time on their phones, browsing social media platforms. My mother deactivated her Facebook, Instagram, TikTok and Twitter. She said they are a waste of time.

So, on weekends, while my aunts are busy on their mobile phones, my mother sits beside me to go through my lessons and homework assignments with me.

“Dina, would you like to go shopping with us? You could really use some new clothes.” The women in our neighborhood who go to the same prayer meeting with my mother would sometimes invite her on Saturdays.

“Thanks, but I’m okay. My clothes are still fine. They’re not new but they’re clean. I still go to the same office, anyway.” She dismisses them with a smile. “Lyle, how would you like to go to that interesting park inside the mall? We can have some ice cream there if you’d like.” She then asks me.

“Ma, why won’t you buy me my own phone? All my classmates have one.” I asked her one morning.

“You can use mine if you need to access some online materials for school. You won’t need your own phone until you graduate from elementary. There are way more important things to focus on. You only walk from home to school and the way back, so there’s no need to call me when I’m at the office.” Mama explained.

One day, I tried climbing the mango tree behind our house. Our neighbors shouted, “Get down from there, Lyle! You’ll fall!”

Mama heard them and went to check on me. When she saw what I was doing, she called out “Would you like to go higher?” When I nodded, she coached me how to plant my feet onto the branches, where to step next and which branches I should grab. She even taught me how to sit and rest among them.

When our neighbors saw what was happening, they went inside their houses murmuring “how weird…”

There were a lot of times when I didn’t understand my mother’s rules. Growing up alone with her meant a lot of tears for both of us due to misunderstanding. Our quarrels ceased when I stopped comparing her with other mothers.

When I reached the top of the tree and saw how beautiful everything looked from up there, I realized how my mother had supported me in things that were truly important.

“Ma, I know a lot of women in school, church and in our neighborhood but they are all nothing compared to you. Thank you.” I hugged her.