TEARS OF THE BRIDE’S MOTHER

 By Prim K. Tumuramye

‘Mom, I want to get married towards the end of this year.’ I said to my mother, blankly staring at the roof that evening.

‘You want to.....is it the right time? Who is the man? Did you say marriage?’ she asked countless questions with her voice visibly shaking.

Prior to this conversation, I had privately gone through countless rehearsals of how I could break the news of my marriage intentions to my mother. How would I tell her that I wanted to leave and cleave to another person. Mother had been my brother, sister, mother and father all in one package. Feelings of betrayal hovered over me, like I was breaking a sacred covenant. I kept encouraging myself that she was only but a mother, not a betrothed partner, whose leaving would not shutter a soul.

Yes, the time had come. Time to realize that I was no longer the little girl who would cling to the mother for protection had finally come. The call to venture into the reality of womanhood was so clear. I was sure that my time had come, to respond to that call and blossom into the joys of being a woman.

The pain of the mere thought of leaving my ailing mother was heart-rending. In the late nights when she groaned in pain, I had been at her bedside to urge her to fight on for her dear life. This evening, she emotionlessly stared at me. I could read the pain in her eyes. Definitely not because I had finally found love but because I was leaving home. Being an only child, she had pampered me and showered me with love. Who else could afford such love for her beloved?

As days went by, mother came to terms with the reality of my leaving home. The day for my traditional ‘Give away’ ceremony finally came. I remember the joy, the mixed feelings and the anxiety that grew by the minute, each time I looked at the clock and the groom’s entourage had not yet arrived. I made frantic calls, not even the assurance of our friend Andrew, the best man could give me assurance that all was well. About 2 hours later than the agreed time, the groom’s entourage finally arrived. Apparently, my Uncle, who was coming from Bushenyi that morning to come and give me away in marriage according to tradition had called to alert the entourage not to use the short cut from Ankole to Kigezi because the rains had left the road impassable. They had to make a U-turn and embark on the journey through Mbarara to Kabale. Stories of many men who had disappointed their brides were common tales, I could definitely not be at peace till my prince charming showed up.

Time for the ritual of the give -away finally came. Saying mother cried would be an understatement. All I recall are the tears of the bride’s mother. For a woman I had never seen cry, watching her body shaking in uncontrollable tears is a memory I will live with.

As I walk down the memory lane, its five years since I trod on this marriage journey. Nights turned into months and am now counting years. As I begin my sixth year on this journey, I want to share reflections of lessons learned from my mother. The mere dream of marriage as I grew up only evoked the fairy tale ‘...and they lived happily after’ fantasies and I could only imagine when I would live out this dream. As I remember the tears of my mother, I realize that she knew the reality that awaited me. The hard truths that awaited me, that marriage is not a bed of roses. The moments of bliss have been there, but yes, there are times that I have cried. I remember how I longed for the day I would walk to freedom, of making decisions with my prince charming, without the interference of what I thought was a mean conservative mother. Today as a mother of three, I want to poke my nose into the business of my children, little as they are because I am not sure if they are able to make good decisions on their own. As Uganda muses on ‘what would Magufuli do’ each time I am posed with a life challenge I ask ‘what would mother do’. I find I have no option but to look back to your zeal and determination to make it in life, to encourage myself and move on.

Three times in the labor suite, three energetic children that need my attention plus one husband to grow and glow with help me appreciate what you went through as a mother. As a single mother, you must have had it rough raising a child singlehandedly. Each time the going gets tough, I hide under the shadow of the man. When such moments come, I feel double sorrow, sorrow for my own woes but pain on wondering how you made it through as a single mother. The joy of knowing that all that for you is in the past causes me to smile.

Remembering the tears of the bride’s mother brings bittersweet memories. It is sad that the man of my life made me leave home. I am glad that when I left home, my mother got a son packaged as a son in-law, three grand children and retained me as a daughter.

As we celebrate five years of marriage, it is amazing how one man’s proposal to one girl to leave home, left a mother who happily lived alone thereafter.

To the Tumuramye Dickson crew, in five years we are five in number. Its another year before us.........we are moving forward. Happy fifth anniversary!

©Prim K. Tumuramye

21^st December 2016

Prim is a Christian, wife, mother and Communications Specialist at Compassion International. She is passionate about reading, writing, youth mentorship and intentional parenting.