When I grow up

 By Prim K. Tumuramye

Growing up, mother celebrated my birthdays religiously. She never sang for me the traditional ‘Happy birthday’ song. Every birthday I would wake up to her original composition of my birthday song:

Prim.......

Refrain: Yeee

Obuyazarwa.....

Bakamushabira

Bamaraika b’omwiguru bakarugayo, baija kureeba Prim

Nenyonyozi z’omwiguru zikarugayo, zija kureeba Prim.

Literally translated, the song meant that when I was born, angels from heaven came to see me. It added that even the stars in heaven came to see me. Oh, what a personalized message that was for me. The picture it painted in my memory was synonymous to the story of the birth of Jesus and the star that guided the wise men.

‘I gave birth to you on a Sunday morning (11:57am to be precise) at Kabale hospital. That is why I called you Kesande. Prim means formal and respectable.’ mother would tell me my birth story every year.

When I was of age, mother introduced me to Sunday school. I religiously attended church, that if I missed church, I would get a very strange feeling. I do not remember a day I missed church without a genuine reason. How strange it was for me to be an ardent church goer, yet mother never found time to go to church.

‘How come you never want me to miss church, yet you rarely make any appearances at church?’ I one time boldly asked my mother.

Her answer to my question was heart rending. How much more could any mother sacrifice for a child?

‘I need every minute of hassling. If I spent just a day away from the market, it would mean that we go without a meal. I love God, but the reality is that we need to survive.’ mother told me.

How I longed to grow up. Growing up meant that finally my mother would take a rest. A rest from the hassle of work, from the fear of tomorrow, from the fear of the unknown. Yet amidst the fear of the unknown, the longing to grow up and live a better life, I was rest assured that the angels that had come down at my birth never left me. It was but a matter of time for me to grow up.

At Sunday school I learnt so many things. The creation story and the birth of Jesus were the most complex truths that fitted so well into my own birth story. My teacher told me that the world was created in seven days, and on the seventh day God rested. From the teacher’s story, the seventh day was Sunday, the reason why mankind went to church every Sunday. Oh, how my life fitted perfectly into the creation story. My little mind reasoned that God created me on his resting day. Yes, mother had told me my birth story: I am Kesande because I was born on a Sunday morning. We also learnt about the birth of Jesus, and how the shining star guided the wise-men and the shepherds to the manger where he lay. Synonymous to my mother’s story, angels and stars had come down to witness my birth. True, I was Prim and Proper.

My birth story had a strong bearing on the way I lived and the choices I made. For most of the things surrounding my life though, it was the divine hand of God. I do not have an explanation on how I grew up as an only child and did not end up a spoilt brat. I do not know how I excelled academically yet I was not the school bookworm. I can not explain how I did not waste my life in teenager escapades, yet I grew up in a slum. I have no answers to how I had never ventured into love relationships yet when I saw Tumuramye Dickson, I was sure he was the man of my life. Truly, my mother’s story must have been right. My birth was no ordinary birth. There was something divine about my being. Who can explain the completeness I felt, growing up as an only child, raised by a single mother yet life felt so normal? The angels and stars at my birth seem not to have left me at any single day.

I looked forward to growing up and telling my unique birth story. Yet the same question lingered in my mind year after year. At what age is one considered grown up? On 5th February 2016 I turned 32. More than ever before, I felt a strong conviction that I had grown! Looking back, all the things I fantasized of in life I have achieved. Having never shared a roof with my father, my biggest longing was to enjoy a good marriage. Growing up as an only child, I longed to have my own children, as many as God could give me. Then I would share with them the extravagant love my mother bestowed on me. Today, as a wife and mother of three, I have grown.

When mother told me my birth story, I promised I would share the same story when I grow up!

 

©Prim K. Tumuramye

10^th February 2016

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