Gosh, I miss my grandma really badly.
In times such as this all I had to do was to pick up the phone and say: “Hello, gogo” “Hello, nana” and everything would be alright from then on. I miss the catching up with the goings-on and all, I miss visiting her and waking up to be treated like a child again. lol, the ‘fights’ we would have! I would often tease her reminding here that Ane (my daughter), was her last born and not me but she would say that “iwe, mai Ane, uri mwana wangu” and she would smile. I recall her calling up peeps at the ministry of Education during my uni vac to get me a temporary teaching place (she was a long serving teacher with 37 years of teaching under her belt! Am so proud of her.) She sent me to uni all by herself by investing what little monies she could save from what her children (including in-laws) sent her to feed herself. She raised my daughter whilst I was in uni and for that I am forever grateful. My gran was just a special woman. She was my mum and I would often tell her that. She would often be tearing up and I would hug her tightly and crack a joke to ease the tension. I hated seeing her crying and she always used to say kuti “misodzi yangu iri padhuze” before telling me some hilarious story about some of the shenanigans that she got up to but escaped a beating coz she could easily cry.
I sit here today remembering how much of an icon she was, not only to me and her children and grandchildren and great-grandchildren but also to the family at large. Many of my relatives I know from her side of the family refer to her as “tete Phoebe” oops, that is, referred to her. She was frank with her words and thoughts and would often tell ppl some hard truths to their faces despite the discomfort or anger or hurt that would follow and most ppl respected her for that. Gogo was so loving, perhaps too loving but that was all her. She was a giver and often times would be in her bedroom looking for something appropriate to give to a visitor or a passer-by. Anyone who ever came to her house would always leave with something, even it were veggies from her garden. Anyone who ever slept by her house knows how many times she would come to the spare bedroom or in the dining room to ask, “mabhurangiti” anokwana here? Ndine akawanda mubhedhuru mangu. Vana Biggie nemurrora vakanditengera kani imi.” (Do you have enough blankets? I have a lot in my bedroom. My son and daughter in law bought them for me)
I miss her today just because I wanna hear her say, “hello, punha, how are you?” Rest in peace, hale/ vamuzvare/ Shonga/ gogo. I miss you terribly. I wonder what my own grandchild will write about me when I an dead and gone….hmmmm