My mother, my queen

MY LATE precious darling mom, Yanambal, was a short, talented and beautiful soul. Hailing from Pinetown, she was born to a mother who was not educated in English, but was fluent in Tamil and proficient in worldly wisdom, and fastidious about religious custom.

- RAVI GOVENDER

RAVI Govender with his mom, Yanambal. Supplied

Her dad was a truck driver for a still-existing bread manufacturing company. He was a short, robust man who brooked no nonsense, suffered no fools, and his chutzpah belied his physical stature. From these two individuals, the atomic bombshell of a mother of mine was created.

Mom was a paragon of virtue and a font of wisdom. She brought my brother and I up with a firm hand, yet balanced with a heart overflowing with love. That love extended widely to four-legged and two-legged creatures. She could not pass a beggar or anyone in need, giving her last R1 to someone who needed it more than her.

She thought nothing of inviting a bedraggled, homeless person into our hearth and home, and making them feel like royalty. In my little way, I try to emulate her nobility in my life, knowing I will never even touch the surface of her humaneness. However, try I do.

I write this column against the backdrop of a social media video that has gone viral. That of a Grade 7 pupil calling President Cyril Ramaphosa “cupcake”. It is a term that is widely used on the South African president in a derogatory manner. The offence is further exacerbated by the fact that the man himself was in the audience at the function in Stellenbosch. Granted, he was most gracious and took it for the humour that was intended. However, it has opened up much debate.

I thought about it hard and for long. This is my summation: if I had done that, my rear end would be blushing for a few days. My mom, more so than my dad, would have chastised me with words and action. Yes, let me turn an old adage on its head: “don’t spare the rod and so you don’t spoil the child.”