For the majority of my life, I’ve not known Maama as an expressive person .. at least in terms of her affection towards anyone or anything. Maama was like royalty. Always graceful, slow, steady and required the house to be in order and things to her liking. She was never too emotional, expressive, haste or impulsive. She was larger than life. One could even say that she was easily entertained with the rest of us being completely the polar opposite of her; loud, hot-tempered, impulsive and a little in-your-face. She enjoyed it even.

I think the years of hardship she had endured, bearing 8 children and single-handedly and very literally putting a roof over the 4 children who survived had hardened her soul. When I was born, we were comfortable. Like yesterday, I remember that the love emanating out of her was limitless and unconditional towards me. Probably because the hardships she had to bear were well over.

Even with all things considered, the day we wheeled her off to the hospital was a day Maama was the most emotional towards Kaafa, that I could remember.

Picture this. Maama in her wheelchair, next to Kaafa sitting up on his bed and both of them holding hands, while she is being wheeled off out of her room. And she said this.

‘Mohammadhanikaa. Aharen dhen anburaa migeyakah naannaane. Aharen dhuniyeyga nethas dharinnaa zubaanu nukoh, emeehun bunaa kameh kohgen bas ahaigen reethikoh ulheythi’.

‘Mohammadhanik. I won’t be coming back home again. Even in a world without me, please don’t argue with your children. Do what they ask of you, listen to them and live peacefully’.

We took her away from him. For one last and lengthy battle.

And even in her last words to Kaafa, she was absolutely right.

She wasn’t coming back home.