by SAMALA GOILE
As I look back over my life I am filled with wonderful memories of my mother. She was the one who taught me to cook, who taught me to stand up for myself, to be amazing and be brave and to take on the world but only if you intend to succeed.
She taught me the value of education and also the value of a good lipstick, how to paint my nails but not to get fussy about breaking them. Life is all about getting dirty but try and do it like a lady.
I just received an SMS from her; a post card picture of a tropical location and the statement “just found our new hang out princess, it is more civilised than our last one, I even have a latte.” In reply I sent her a picture of my gorgeous breakfast to which she stated: “Excellent, you can do the cooking and I will buy the drinks.”
The woman I am taking about was in fact not my birth mother but the woman my father loved after my parents divorced.
My parents divorced when I was very young and I lived with my mother; my dad lived overseas. I spent my school holidays with my dad and the school term with my mum. One school holidays when I was about 10 I arrived at the airport and my dad greeted me with the usual hug and smile. On the long drive home there was a curiosity about him even I couldn’t pick. My dad was unusually quiet. Little did I know my life was about to change.
We pulled up into the driveway and I ran up the stairs only to be greeted by a face I had never seen before. Unbeknownst to me she was as surprised as I was. My father had neglected to tell either of us that the other existed and with his usual coy un-confrontational charm he moved us both in to his house on the same day.