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The Woman Who Stole My Breath

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The Woman Who Stole My Breath

My Mother Catherine AkwiIt is a month. As I come to terms with this new reality that my greatest inspirer is gone, I realise, though she had not said goodbye, she had said it several times over with her love, her life and the many lessons I learned from her.

While in Africa, I ran into a young lad who reminded me of one of the age old lessons that were inseparable from my mother ‘s philosophy of “take every child, as your child.” I was thirsty and walking over to fetch some water, when a young lad of about 18 interrupted me.

“You won’t believe how “Avo”, (your mother) was kind to us,” he said.
“But who are you, I don’t quite know you,” I said.
“I am Nji, I am from the Chenam Palace…”
“Oh, are you one of the Mukom twin brothers?”
“Yes, Avo was our god-mother, but that is not the point.”
“She treated us just like we were her kids.”
“Thanks for sharing with me.”

As I started to walk off in a desperate attempt to quench my thirst, he interrupted again.

“A couple of years ago, Avo saved our education?”.
“What do you mean. I recall she could nor read or write.?”
“We were out of school, our father was unwilling to buy us school uniforms?”
“You mean the Chief did not help you boys?” I asked in disbelief.
“He did not. Avo came over to speak to him; but nothing,” he said his voice trembling.
“So how did you resolve the issue?”
“In the end Avo bought school uniforms for us. Now, she is gone, I don’t know who will stand for us here in this village.”

I wrapped my arm around Nji, and consoled him. It was a simple touching story. I have often wondered how she found her voice for some causes far bigger than her. How are you using your own voice? Are you using it for good causes that will outlast your life?

Think about that for a moment…