My Hero: My Mother

Copyright to BW Businessworld

“Why were there mostly women gathering to demand food assistance during the lockdown in Cambodia on April 29?”, a friend of mine asked. I simply answered, “It is because they are mothers and grandmothers who have kept us alive, using all their might.”

This conversation intrigued me to start reflecting on my mum.

And yes, I can see that she is and has been my heroin.

She is my heroin because of her hard work in keeping our family alive. With those two hands and ten fingers, she is able to get many things done per day — going to the market in the early morning, cleaning the floor, cooking lunch, washing dishes, boiling drinking water, making Cambodian snacks in the late afternoon, clearing grass on our small self-sustained farm until late evening, cooking dinner — sometimes the list can go on and on. Once morning comes again, she does the chores to keep the family running and her children and husband stay fed.

She is my heroin because of her valuable advice given to me when I encounter a crossroads in life. For instance, instead of telling me directly whether to choose a choice to pass my scholarship or choose the alternative one reflecting who I am but getting me a low chance of passing, she told me stories of women in our community. That’s when I knew I should follow the choice reflecting who I am and my call, which was to help other women and continue working on gender issues.

She is my heroin because of her constant warm comforts. Like Demi Lovato, I am a black belt when I am beating myself up once I don’t think I do anything good enough. During my winter season as a writer, I hardly produced any written pieces and felt guilty, anxious, and worried as a result, she then told me “It is okay to take a break but also don’t give up and start again when your season comes again.”

She is my heroin because of her complaints and care. When I told her of my sickness due to my unchecked eating habits, she scolded me repeatedly yet got me medicine at the end. During the lockdown, she constantly nagged my brother and me about buying food stock and other needs, but she still ended up buying and sending my brother vegetables and meat while buying me my pads, but nothing for her. She told me that while her own mother could not help train her to prepare for difficult times, she felt responsible for teaching and training us while also keeping us alive. She always thinks of our needs before hers.

She is my heroin because of her forgiveness for her kids regardless. When I was in my writing mood and season, I usually isolated myself, felt crabby, and cared about nothing but my writing — and I sometimes unleashed them on my mum. She however forgives me, gives me some space, and lets me not help her do chores. She moreover listens to my complaints and struggles during my writing process. She even helps me in my process a lot because of her stories. I usually get ideas and motivations for writing when listening to stories of women on the ground. She shows me the struggles women have faced and also the small yet significant power they possess which the world seems to neglect.

“Women are like buttons and threads; they seem inconsequential but without them, a shirt cannot be made.” (my mum, 2021)

This is a typical Cambodian housewife in their 50s who wasn’t able to get higher education yet is able to raise their children. Aren’t they wonderful and deserve more value?

For me, hell yes. My mum is my bestie, sister, mother, and yes my heroin.