Ukuqala kobulumko, kukungoyiki.

 My mother and I share a birthmark. It is on the same part of our bodies; it is the same shape and the only real difference is that mine is several shades lighter than hers was. I love this about us. I also have a running theory that she wanted to brand me like a cow, solidify her trademark so to speak. As if it was not enough that I look a lot like her, have her wit and share her love for learning and deciduous fruits. I am both impressed and eternally grateful for her commitment to quality control, because no mistakes were to be made about whose child I am.

Some of the most widely sold commodities in the world outside of the tangible ones are love and fear. Both of these move people, they edge us towards action. When we love people or things, we do things in expression of that love. We take care, we listen, we fight, we give, we do. When we fear, we run, we hide, we pretend, we cry and we cower or we confront. Both the selling of these commodities and the response to these happens to people across cultures, genders, race, religion and all other subdivisions we have created in the world.

My immediate answer when the question of my risk appetite for anything comes up is to say that I am more risk averse than I would like to think. When I think about it a little deeper though, I think I may be selling myself short. Much like with the birthmark, my mother’s bravery is imprinted on me in really obvious and indistinct ways. In a conversation we once had before a public speaking responsibility that I was to carry out she once said to me “ Kalok thina sizi giants nje sisi, sinalo advantage. Masingoyiki.”

My mother was a brave person, sometimes way more than what I thought was fair. She was never the person to back out on her commitments, never the person to watch chaos or destruction unfold and look the other way. For most of my life, it seemed to me that she feared nothing. Of course as an adult now, I recognise that she definitely did fear, she just gave into it significantly less than most people. That is something I want to emulate.

My mother spoke to me like someone whose thoughts or ideas she respected. She consulted me on the decisions she would ultimately make concerning my life and that of my siblings. When I think about that, I realise that that too was bravery. My mother knew that she did not always know what to do, right or wrong and she was not afraid to let me see that. She trusted me to have thoughts worth integrating into her decision-making process and in turn taught me to not mindlessly follow along even when someone else has authority over me. I admire this quality about her because I think it has enabled me to be more forgiving of myself when I also do not know, even about the affairs of my own life. Unlike her, I also think there is a part of me that is drawn to the thrill of making grand life decisions fuelled by instinct rather logic. Because of this, bravery is in always in demand.

It feels good to have had that kind of person as my mother. To have seen someone be that unwavering about the things that concerned her life. To be terrified but get on with it anyway. To find common ground with her fear over and over again. To have done it enough times to know that fearlessness is built by repeatedly showing up open to the lessons. Even when those lessons are not convenient nor conventional. To embrace life in its fullness even when you are terrified.