I Hated My Mother And Her One Bucket Of Water

African MotherI have not updated my blog in like 3 weeks. I am so so sorry about that. My life is now cluttered with a lot of activities so much that I sometimes forget, I swore an oath to my avid readers to entertain them weekly or at worst bi-weekly. But I am here now and I hope this post warms your hearts enough to forgive me.

I remember when I discovered the snooze button of the alarm clock as a young boy. My uncle bought me the alarm clock as a Christmas present and I was so excited about the idea. It was early in the morning, and my alarm clock was going off. I didn’t want to get up and go to school, so I wondered if there was a way that I could silence the alarm for sometime so that I could get a little more rest. This would allow me just enough time to toss and turn for about 8 minutes, and sleep for the remaining 30 seconds, before starting the cycle all over again.

Despite my prayers for the rain to fall every Monday morning, I was forced from my slumber on this cold Harmattan January Monday morning by my alarm clock, which began making noise at precisely 6am. I rolled over, turned on the light, and examined the device to see if there was a way I could make it temporarily stop beeping. I noticed a few buttons – there was an on and off switch, and a bigger button. Faced with a decision, I weighed my options. If I turned the alarm off I would likely go back to bed and definitely miss the trotro bus to school, which would lead to me, getting lashed on the buttocks at school. If I kept the switch toggled to “on”, the clock would keep making noise, and cause me most likely to kill myself right there. I was about to choose when I noticed that the biggest button on the whole clock read in capital letters SNOOZE, and I rejoiced thinking to myself “that’s exactly what I want to do,” and so I extended my index finger, and pressed the button one time. Magically, the noise ceased and I realized that from that moment on, my life would never be the same.

This was the first time I had ever utilized the snooze button, but it sure wouldn’t be the last. Far from it. The Snooze button grew on me like a cancer. When I first discovered the Snooze button, I was a little confused, mostly because I thought the alarm clock’s purpose was to wake people up, not encourage them to go back to sleep. My feelings towards the alarm clock were mixed. At first, it was making a sound that was so offensive, and I resented it for that. But then it would stop thanks to the snooze button, causing the abuse to end, and I was grateful to the snooze button for that.

But the alarm clock wasn’t the only thorn attempting to not let me keep sleeping, and keeping me miserable – my mom was another. She would be coming in the room while the alarm clock was beeping because it was making noise and she wanted to check if I was really awake. Then one morning, she got so mad and threw the alarm clock against the wall and spoilt it. Poor thing, I knew that was going to be the end of my beauty sleep.

Now that the alarm clock was gone, my mother quickly assumed the position of the human alarm clock. She would come drifting in and out of the room, shouting at the top of her lungs for me to wake up and not miss the trotro bus to school. She was reminding me in not so pleasant terms that I should wake up, and she made it pretty clear that the deadline for doing so was now, and she didn’t hesitate to use ruthless tactics waking me up. For instance, she turned the light on in my room to deter me from falling back asleep. And when all those tactics failed, I left her with no option than for her to use the one bucket of water method. She would fetch and carry one bucket of water, and pour it on me while I was still dozing, wetting me and the bed in the process.

I was convinced that my mother was from hell and nothing could erase the misery I was experiencing. Well, I would wake up amid tears, and hoping that someone would buy me another alarm clock so my mother will stop disturbing me every morning.

The water in the bucket was always cold coupled with the already cold Harmattan morning. To an 11 year old boy, my mother was from THE HOTTEST PART OF HELL SENT TO KILL ME. Because of the coldness of the weather, I stopped showering and went to school.

Now I am older and this morning, I woke up at 7:32am. My alarm clock was set at 8:00am and I beat it by about 28 minutes. I am an adult, and I am beginning to understand my mother’s one bucket of water. We live in a business world where TIME IS MONEY and time is everything. After all, nobody wants to be late for work and get his/her ass fired. It hit me this morning that I don’t hate my mother. I love her and I thank her for the strict upbringing.


Photo credit: Ghana Magazine
Original image URL: Mother’s Day Exclusive

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