IMBOKODO (MAMA, MY ROCK!)

It seems like yesterday, I was a tiny seed.  You carried me, wondering:  "A cuddly boy?  A pretty girl?"  Still your heart was bleeding, remembering how I was made.  I wasn't made with love, yet I was made by Love.  He is the Creator of all things and lovingly He made me too!

It is unforgivable what he did to you that night.  Though extremely drunk, he was powerful - very strong.  He pushed you around as though just a thing.  You were beaten, bruised and cursed - and that is how I was made.  And though your womb was warm, yet your world was cold and cruel.

When you had me you smiled - you held me ever close.  You fed and kept me warm, giving me all I could ever need.  Gradually I grew, helplessly watching you 'barely' live. 

For years he battered you;  you were a punching bag.  Your body was cruelly scarred, still your soul remained just pure.   You toiled and toiled in vain, hoping one day things would change.  You woke each day to chores - no protest - no dissent.  I could feel your brokenness;  I could almost taste your tears. How I longed to protect you and how I wished to fight your fears.  Yet I was just a boy - deeply grieved by Mama's plight.

Today I salute you, Mama - you are a steadfast rock.  I call you Imbokodo, for I revere you so.  Your heart was ever tender;  your bosom soft and warm -  until your final breath, wary of this cold, harsh world.  So long my dear Mama, until we meet again!

© Yvonne Mahlape Maserumule, 2015
(All rights reserved)
This tribute is fictional, but depicts the harsh reality of women abuse worldwide.  As we celebrate Women's Month every August here in South Africa, I dedicate this tribute to all the women who suffer abuse of this kind, in certain instances even leading to death.