My mom had always wanted me to better myself. I wanted to better myself because of her. Now when the strikes started, I told her I was going to join the union and the whole movement. I told her I was going to work without pay. She said she was proud of me. (His eyes glisten. A long, long pause.) See, I told her I wanted to be with my people. If I were a company man, nobody would like me any more. I had to belong to somebody and this was it right here. She said, “I pushed you in your early years to try to better yourself and get a social position. But I see that’s not the answer. I know I’ll be proud of you.

Mum was extremely generous and would constantly beg us, despite our protestations, to let her know if we needed anything even till she breathed her last. She lived life on her own terms. She did it her way. Mum, it’s so long, but not goodbye. You now belong to the ages… Requiescat in pace.

‘Why?’ My mother’s question hangs in the still air of memory. The loneliness I have felt many mornings, however, has not made me forget that I am engaged in a highly public activity. I sit here in silence writing this small volume of words, and it seems to me the most public thing I ever have done. My mother’s letter has served to remind me: I am making my personal life public. Probably I will never try to explain my motives to my mother and father. My mother’s question will go unanswered to her face.

Oh yes. It is almost like she needs therapy for that, but she is my number one fan. My mum says, ‘I don’t know how you do it, but my God, you’re doing alright!’ So, when you hear that most mornings, [especially] as a mother of three… [aged nine, five and three].

My mother saw herself as a victim. Once upon a time she had shaped her future and made decisions -- she had left Somalia for Aden, divorced her first husband and chosen my father--but at some point, it seemed, she lost hope. Many Somali women in her position would have worked, would have taken control of their lives, but my mother, having absorbed the Arab attitude that pious women should not work outside the home, felt that this would not be proper. It never occurred to her to go out and create a new life for herself, although she can't have been older than thirty-five or forty when my father left. Instead, she remained completely dependent. She nursed grievances; she was resentful; she was often violent; and she was always depressed.

My mum and I fought a lot. She worried that my chosen career was unreliable and wouldn’t take me anywhere.

My mum was crying everyday. We worked at home at the time. I would get her breakfast. She would tell me “I can't do this anymore. I can't do this anymore"

Mum said school mighta been different for me if I only give a damn. Maybe it was wasted on me like the teachers said. I didn't have any philosophy in me then, so I didn't know what to listen for. Most of it was pointless crap. Don't reckon I met a single wise person all the years I stayed but like I say, I wasn't paying close attention. And the thing is I miss it a bit. That's something I never thought I'd hear myself say. I didn't know what I was, what I could do. Except the lame things I did do.

I cried all the time.I left my children with him and went back home,because I didn't want them to suffer because of me.I told them I was going to look for a job and that they must stay with their father

I got home and told my husband that I wanted to go back to school. He said fine but that I should bear in mind that I was his mother, the mother of our two children and in charge of the home. He asked if I would be able to cope and I said yes. Then he said go ahead. That was when universities were organising examinations separately as there was no Joint Admissions and Matriculation Board. So I bought application form, did the examination but I was not offered admission.

It was through her that I realised the notion that one cannot be a mother and a professional concurrently is a myth. My mother showed me that it is certainly possible to have a long and rewarding career, balanced with a very thriving family life, In addition, my mum, being an incredibly strong woman, possessed a fabulous balance between being assertive, yet kind,

One embarrassing thing to a man is when a woman minister asks him, ‘Why do you have to do that? Why do you need to lose everything you have invested in over the years?’ Much as I am a minister, I am also a mother

My mother, knowing well the difficulties of the profession, told me, go for it, she let me do it and I thank her for it

Sometimes my husband would say, “if you want help just ask,” and I would wave my arms around like someone drowning. “Just look!” I'd say. “this is all a cry for help.” But truthfully, I didn't want help. I was grateful for it sure. What I wanted was an equal partner.