A Tribute to My Mum: A Legacy of Love, Pride, and Unwavering Support

August 24, 2025 Six Years Since You Left us

Six years ago, on August 24, 2019, I lost my mum, a woman whose 88 years were a radiant gift of love, wisdom, and strength. As I reflect on her life today, my heart brims with gratitude for the countless ways she shaped me through my childhood, my academic and professional journey, and the whirlwind of balancing life as a mother, daughter, wife, and career woman. One memory, a quiet moment when I needed her to hold a secret, and the joy of her pride in my achievements, especially my university graduations, remain etched in my soul. This is my tribute to her, a celebration of her role in my life and a thanksgiving for her enduring love.

My Early Life with Mum: A Foundation of Joy 

Growing up, Mum was the heart of our home, turning everyday moments into treasures. I can still see her in our small kitchen, stirring a pot of her famous ugali and sukuma wiki, her hands steady and her voice humming a Swahili lullaby. I’d sit nearby, captivated by her stories of her childhood in the village, sneaking mangoes from a neighbor’s tree or dancing at local celebrations. Those moments weren’t just about food or stories; they were about her teaching me to find beauty in the ordinary, to dream big, and to hold fast to hope. Mum made life feel like an adventure. Whether we were tending her vegetable garden or walking to the market, she’d point out the smallest wonders: a butterfly on a flower, the rhythm of a passing matatu’s music. She taught me to listen, to be present, to believe in myself. Even when times were lean, she created magic: turning old sheets into a tent for my brothers and me to play in or making up games under the stars. Those early years built the core of who I am: resilient, curious, and grounded in her love.

Shaping My Career Path: Her Belief in My Dreams

As a young girl, I was a dreamer and a thinker [my numerology expert, would say] but doubts often clouded my path. I’d sit at our wobbly table, scribbling notes about becoming a scholar, unsure if I could reach such heights. Mum never dictated my future; she listened, her eyes warm and steady, and said, “You have a light inside you. Shine it, and the world will see.” Her words were simple but carried the weight of unwavering faith.When I set my sights on academia, Mum became my biggest champion. She’d stay up late with me and my siblings, her patience endless. I remember her sitting with me as I prepared for my journey to A-levels, her presence and contribution calming my nerves. “You’re ready,” she’d say, handing me a cup of chai and a small bible,  a reminder to always pray. Her belief in me fueled me. 

When I earned my place at university, her pride was palpable, but it was her quiet encouragement that gave me the courage to keep going. She didn’t just guide my career; she helped me believe I could become a professor someday. 

Some things seemed far away from the horizon. 

Juggling Life’s Roles: Mum as My Rock

As I stepped into adulthood, life became a balancing act: motherhood, marriage, a demanding career, and many responsibilities. Even on days that I felt I couldn’t keep up, Mum was my steady hand. When I became a mother, overwhelmed by sleepless nights and a demanding academic prep, she’d arrive home to give the needed care. “You’re stronger than you think,” she’d say, taking me for a memory walk. Her stories of raising us reminded me that love, not perfection, was the goal. 

As a wife, I leaned on her wisdom about partnership. “Love is patience and growing together,” she’d say, her words guiding me through challenges. When I struggled to balance my academic career with family, she’d remind me to prioritize without losing my dreams. Once, during a tough life encounter, we talked at length for 5 hours: “You’re doing enough.” The following morning I was much better. That talk stayed taped to my mind for years. Even in her later years, as her health waned, she was my anchor calling to check on my children or my latest research, travel, or even social capital. Her voice was so comforting across the distance. 

She was my safe haven, my guide, my greatest supporter. My confidant! Washa tu!

Her Pride in My Graduations: A Mother’s Joy

Mum’s pride in my academic journey was one of her greatest gifts. She attended all three of my university graduations, each one a milestone that lit up her face. I could still see her in the crowd, surrounded by her friends, her smile wide as I crossed the stage to receive my degrees. For her, those moments weren’t just about me; they were a celebration of our shared journey, of the late nights, the sacrifices, and the dreams we nurtured together. Her friends would clap and cheer, but it was Mum’s quiet nod, her eyes glistening, that meant the most.The pinnacle came with my PhD graduation, a day that felt like a dream. When Citizen TV featured it on the 7 o’clock news, Mum was beyond elated. Her phone didn’t stop ringing friends, neighbors, relatives, all calling to congratulate her as if she’d earned the degree herself. I can imagine her answering each call, her voice bubbling with pride, saying, “That’s my daughter!” That moment was hers as much as mine. Though I’m sad she didn’t live to see me become a professor, she knew it was where I was headed. She’d tell me, “You’re almost there, my daughter, Wambui,” and I carry that certainty with me, knowing she believed in my destination.

A Secret Kept (Mostly): A Glimpse of Her Heart

One memory captures Mum’s love and her beautifully human side. Years ago, I was desperate for “me time,” a rare chance to recharge. I told her I was escaping for a quiet weekend retreat, just me, and asked her not to tell anyone including my brothers. I needed that space to be mine alone. She nodded, her eyes full of understanding, and I trusted her to keep my secret. Off I went, finding peace in those solitary moments.Three years later, my brothers mentioned the retreat, laughing fondly, no malice in their words. I was startled at first, then amused. Mum, in her love for connection, must have let it slip, likely over tea with one of my brothers, sharing how I was taking care of myself. It wasn’t betrayal; it was her heart overflowing, wanting to weave our family closer. That moment, though imperfect, is now a treasure, a reminder of her love, her humanity, and her desire to share in every part of our lives. Her telephone calls! OmG! 

A Thanksgiving for Her 88 Years

Mum, today, six years after you left us, I give thanks for your 88 incredible years. Thank you for the kitchen moments filled with ugali and stories, for making the world feel alive with possibility. Thank you for believing in my academic dreams, for sitting through my graduations with your friends, your pride brighter than the sun. Thank you for the joy you felt when Citizen TV celebrated my PhD, for the way your phone rang with love. I’m sad you didn’t see me become a professor, but I know you saw it coming, and that’s enough.Thank you for being my rock as I juggled motherhood, marriage, and my career for the stews, the notes, the wisdom that held me together. Thank you for keeping my secrets, even when your love couldn’t help but spill over. Your 88 years were a masterpiece, woven with laughter, lessons, and a love that lives on in me, my children, and every lecture I give. Though I miss you, your voice, your smile, your steady hand you are with me, guiding me toward the professor’s robe you knew I’d wear. Here’s to you, Mum, and the legacy of your beautiful life. 

I love you always.