History is replete with significant events that occurred on this very date, 12th September. People have been born, married, divorced, appointed, and fired on this date. Nations across the world have achieved successes (as well as failures) on 12th September.
To many, this date may be meaningless and may not mean much. But a simple google search and you’ll find that on this date in 1890, Salibury (now Harare) was founded. Thirty three years later on the same date of 12th September, Zambia’s neighbouring country Zimbabwe was annexed by the United Kingdom. In 1961 the now defunct African and Malagasy union was founded. On the same date ten years later in 1971 Steve Biko an apartheid activist in South Africa died while in police custody.
Many more such events which happened on 12th September are recorded all over history. But allow me to bring this date close to home. As I write this right now, 12th September 2016 has been declared a half working day in Zambia because of the expected inauguration ceremony of President-Elect Edgar Lungu tomorrow.
That’s another story though. This isn’t a political post.
This is a personal post, a personal comment.
The last time I was ever on a wedding line up was on 12th September, 1998. That wedding was at Mulungushi village and my uncle was marrying this wonderful woman from the east. 16 years later today they are still happily married and going strong.
But again that’s a story for another day.
The story for today is a simple yet special one. It is a story more meaningful to me as it is a story of the woman who raised me. The woman who continues to support me to this day. The woman I work hard for so that I could give her the best moments and experiences of this world. This story is about my mother Patricia.
On 12th September, 1959 this woman was born. More than 20 years later I was honoured and privileged to be born of her. I love Patricia very much and I am as proud of her as she is of me. The things she has done, the obstacles she has overcome, and the odds she has had to beat makes her extremely super to me.
She is royalty, the queen that raised the king in me. Which is quite fitting that when she calls me she always says “Mwe mfumu bushe muli shani lelo.” She addresses me as her King, I recognise her as my queen. My pillar, my believer, and my everything. Patricia is the most generous, dedicated, perceptive, endearing, and conscientious person I know.
Patricia understands me. She builds me. She effectively instils ambition in me. I work hard to succeed in all I do because she believes in me. She’s taught me to be my own person, liberal. Since I was a kid she never stopped from letting me realise I could be anything I wanted in this world, personally, professionally, and religiously. Despite being a devout catholic herself she understands and supports that I am an atheist. She never shoved it down my throat but allowed me to develop my own views and opinions on life. She trusted me as a boy to know what is right and wrong for myself and to go to her for advice and help when I lost my way. Simply put I am nothing without her.
I appreciate Patricia and I cherish the day she was born.
I love you Mum.
Happy 57th Birthday.
(My Intellect’s Loud And Noisy-MILAN)