Fare ye well mama dearest

My middle sister was the only one who chose to leave home when she was over 12 years old. She chose to live with our cousin even though at that time her interaction with our married cousin was the passing kind. Yet she would rather leave home to stay with an almost complete stranger than stay home with her own family.

I remember the most severe beating my sister had ever got from my mother was when she found a 20-cent coin and took it home. Was it stealing? Definitely, “finder’s keeper” was not something my mother condoned.

My sister got the usual kind of punishment. However, this time she had something extra and unexpected, she was tied to the lamp-post in front of our house. It was my kind neighbour, who lived across our house, who came to rescue her. This was not her first rescue nor would it be her last.

Another time, she rescued my younger brother from the garbage bin. At that time we had no inkling that he was our mother’s favourite child. His crime was skipping lunch after his return from the kindy.

Strangely enough, I was never at ease with the grown-up neighbours. In one way or the other, these regular rescuers had been kind enough to intervene at the appropriate time. Personally, I should be grateful to them for being there for us. However, all I’d felt was shame, mainly because my mother would justify her deeds by badmouthing the one she punished. Most of the time, I stood there and wished for the ground to open up and swallow me in. Sometimes I wished I was dead as I listened and watched her making a scene.

To be fair, there were times my mother could be nice. If being nice was measured by the occasional gifts she showered on us, then she was nice. One thing for sure, she fed us well in spite of her shortcomings as a mother.