Great artists become great because they were nurtured in some way by some woman or women somewhere, in the same way that great people become great because some woman somewhere cared. As she cooked and cleaned and bathed and rebuked and spanked and worked and pointed out where the other sock was, she had the presence of mind to make sure that that great person was safe and warm and cared for – so much that that great person became educated in the ways of life and gained the confidence that that great person needed to be great. It was her, that that great person ran to when that great person was afraid or hurt, her that that great person leaned on when there was no food or water or health or wealth or joy. It was some woman somewhere, who stood behind the scenes and ensured that that that great person not only became great, but remained great. And she did this, while walking many kilometers to find a health centre or water or firewood, while spending whole long days tilling the land then going home to cook and clean and pick after that great person and everyone else. She did this even when her spirit was low and her body was sore, she went out to work at the crack of dawn where she found she had to work harder than everyone else, prove herself at every juncture just so she could stay afloat and get ahead. It was her who made the great sacrifices, all the time, every time, and on the back of her sweat and blood and tears, that great person became great and remained great. She has throughout her life been the pillar that everyone leaned on and spit on, she was the cement that held it all together, whatever it was.
Wife, mother, sister, aunt, teacher, nurse, preacher, leader, friend – she made you great, all the while standing up straight, with a smile on her face and an uncanny grace in her step because…
She was, she is and she will always will be,