Before They Called Her Mother

Before they called her Mother… it begins with a thought.

As you observe your own mother… a question comes to mind.

How does she do it? Where does that drive come from?

In the morning… your school uniform is ironed.

When you arrive home late in the evening… the smell of food drifts into your nose with an intoxicating presence.

The house? Clean.

Saturday… the first load of laundry is already hanging on the washing line in the early hours of the morning. Long before the rest of the household wakes up.

Sunday? She’s probably at church.

And whenever you misplace something… without even thinking… you call out to her first.

Not your sibling. Not your father. But your own mother.

And she would often reply…

“It’s on top of the kitchen counter. It was on the floor. Next time, put your things in order before you lose them.”

And you would respond with the same words you’ve said countless times.

“Okay, Mum!”

Looking back now, I realise how easily the roles people fulfil inside a home can become the identities we give them. Mother knows where everything is. Mother keeps the house running. Mother always has an answer. And because those things become familiar… we sometimes forget to ask who the person was before those responsibilities became part of their everyday life. A different household shaped by similar expectations is explored deeper in The House Where Roles Lived.

And as your observations deepen… you sit on the couch. Watching her as she continues cleaning the TV room. Right next to you.

And another thought comes to mind.

My mother never goes out partying. She never wears miniskirts when going out in public. She always dresses respectfully.

She barely drinks alcohol. She doesn’t smoke. And she’s loyal to my father.

Yoh… my father must be a lucky man.

And I hope that one day… I find a woman just like my mother.

The Woman Before Mother

As the child looked towards the corner of the room… a photograph hanging on the wall caught their attention.

It was a picture of the woman before Mother.

Many moons ago… when she was still skinny. Wearing clothes that would probably look old-fashioned today.

But during her time… she was indeed “dripping.”

On her head… a Kangol Bermuda bucket hat.

The top? An oversized Dickies short-sleeve work shirt.

And the bottom? Dickies 874 Original Fit work pants.

As the child looked at the photograph… a memory returned. The story Mother had told the family about that day.

The child eventually stood up… and left the room.

But little did the child and the rest of the family know… there was another side to that photograph.

A side Mother had never shared.

Because whenever she found herself alone… looking at that same picture… a glowing smile would slowly appear on her face.

The children and Father only knew one thing.

That day had been Mother’s first time attending a concert.

And not just any concert… Brenda Fassie was performing.

At the famous Concert in the Park. Held at Ellis Park Stadium in Johannesburg… on 12 January 1985.

A day when an estimated 125,000 people gathered to experience performances by some of South Africa’s biggest musicians.

That concert became part of South Africa’s musical history. Held on 12 January 1985 at Ellis Park Stadium, it brought together approximately 125,000 people and some of the country’s biggest musicians to raise funds for Operation Hunger… a remarkable event revisited in A Peaceful Riot: Johannesburg’s Historic Concert in the Park in 1985.

And among those thousands of people… was the woman before Mother.

That was the story her family knew.

But there was another story behind that picture. One that had remained with her… long after the music stopped.

And perhaps… that was why she always smiled whenever she looked at it.

The Day Behind the Photograph

The family had once gathered in the living room… spending time together.

Playing Crazy Eights or Five Cards. Snacks were being passed around.

The children enjoyed their soft drinks… while Mother and Father shared a bottle of wine.

As the game continued… one curious child asked Mother a question.

“Mum, those clothes you used to wear back then look weird.”

“I can’t believe you used to dress like that!”

The parents laughed.

Father responded.

“Are you kidding me?”

“Your mother looked super fine!”

“That’s real fashion right there. Not these trousers below your trousers that your generation calls cool!”

Mother laughed.

“Oh, yes!”

“The reason you children have a taste for your modern fashion is because of me.”

“Everywhere I’d go… every street I’d walk down…”

“I would get compliments!”

The family laughed. And Mother continued.

“On that day, a few years before I met your father…”

“My best friend, Neo’s mother, got us tickets to go and see Brenda Fassie.”

“So, like you children say…”

“Mother had to drip!”

The children laughed again.

“We went with two of our male friends to keep us safe.”

“When we arrived, the place was packed.”

“We had a little alcohol…”

“Enjoyed the concert…”

“And afterwards, we all returned home safely.”

The children were surprised.

Their own mother… attending a concert. Drinking. Dressing like that.

And for a while… the family continued laughing and asking questions.

Until eventually… the evening came to an end.

But later… when Mother returned to the television room… her eyes wandered towards that photograph again.

And as she looked at it… the rest of the story returned.

The two boys who had accompanied her and her best friend to the concert… weren’t strangers.

They had known each other for some time.

And one of those boys… had a crush on the woman before Mother.

A crush that had been growing for a while.

But Mother had always kept him in the friend zone.

Not because he was a bad person.

He was well-mannered. Her family loved him. He was respectful.

Never did anything out of line. And his actions were always predictable.

He was the kind of boy many people would have considered a good choice.

But for the woman before Mother… something was missing.

Even today… as she looked at that photograph… she still couldn’t explain why she had never developed the same feelings for him.

He had done nothing wrong.

She simply didn’t love him that way.

And then… her memory returned to that afternoon.

When the four friends arrived at the concert… Mother and her best friend left the boys for a while to find the bathrooms.

But on their way back… something happened.

A handsome young man approached the woman before Mother.

He complimented her. Told her how beautiful she looked.

And as they began talking… he mentioned that they attended the same school.

He was just one standard above her.

Mother recognised him. And she blushed.

The young man invited her and her friend to join him for a drink.

They agreed.

And that afternoon… the woman before Mother tasted alcohol for the first time.

One drink.

And suddenly… the two best friends were enjoying themselves.

They eventually returned to the boys they had arrived with… and convinced them to join the section where the handsome young man and his friends were sitting.

The two gentlemen agreed. And off they went.

Unlike the girls… the two boys didn’t drink. They were against alcohol.

But the woman before Mother… continued drinking.

One drink became another. And another.

She drank more than she had originally planned to.

But she remained conscious… aware of what was happening around her.

And as Brenda Fassie’s performance filled the stadium with music… the young woman found herself enjoying more than just the concert.

The handsome young man who had invited her for a drink… was becoming someone she enjoyed being around.

They talked. Laughed.

And as the afternoon continued… the two began clicking.

Until eventually… they kissed.

And there they were… cuddling. Kissing. Enjoying each other’s company… among thousands of people who had gathered to experience the music.

For that afternoon… the woman before Mother wasn’t thinking about marriage.

Children. School uniforms. Or the responsibilities that would one day become part of her ordinary life.

She was simply enjoying a moment with somebody she liked.

And just like that… the concert eventually came to an end.

The woman before Mother returned home.

And that handsome young man?

That was the last time she ever saw him.

Even today… she could no longer remember his name.

But there was something she hadn’t forgotten.

Something he had given her during that concert.

A gift.

One she had managed to keep… all these years.

And as Mother stood looking at the photograph… that familiar smile returned.

The smile of a woman remembering a day… that her family knew about… but had never known completely.

The Life She Was Building

The woman before Mother continued with life as usual.

Still young… balancing school and helping with the cleaning at home.

To her parents… your grandparents… she was the daughter they had watched growing up.

A young woman who went to school. Helped around the house. And continued with her ordinary responsibilities.

But there was another version of your mother they didn’t fully know.

A version that wanted to explore. A version that wanted to experience.

And after that concert… perhaps that was when the first crack appeared.

The woman before Mother secretly began dating another boy.

At first… he moved something inside her.

A feeling she remembered from that afternoon at the concert.

The excitement. The attraction. The feeling of wanting to be around somebody.

But as the months passed… something changed.

The same young man who once made her feel that way… no longer ignited those feelings.

Yet he was a good boy.

He cared about her. Treated her well.

And because she didn’t want to hurt his feelings… Mother stayed.

Even when she knew something had changed.

Then… as weeks turned into months… another young man entered the picture.

He began flirting with the woman before Mother.

And unexpectedly… something moved inside her again.

That same excitement. That same pressure she had once felt at the concert.

But this time… she rejected him.

Not because she didn’t want him.

But because she was already in a relationship. And she felt guilty.

As the days continued… she kept running into that same young man.

She tried resisting the temptation. Reminding herself that she already had somebody who cared about her.

Until one day… she stopped resisting.

And the woman before Mother… cheated on the boy she was dating.

She knew what she had done.

And she knew the boy she was dating hadn’t deserved it.

So instead of continuing the relationship as though nothing had happened… she told him she was leaving.

For another boy.

And just like that… one relationship ended. While another began.

That relationship continued for years.

Until eventually… it too came to an end.

And through all those experiences… the woman before Mother would sometimes find herself thinking about the handsome young man from the concert.

The boy she hadn’t seen since that afternoon.

The boy whose name she could no longer remember.

Because somehow… both relationships had reminded her of something she experienced that day.

Something that initially came alive… but never seemed to last.

And perhaps… even she didn’t fully understand why.

One afternoon… the woman before Mother sat outside.

Holding the gift she had received at the concert.

Remembering that day.

The music. The crowd. The young man.

And the version of herself who had experienced it all.

But while one part of her life continued exploring relationships… another part was moving forward.

Her education. Her studies. And the future she was working towards.

Because with every passing school year… the woman before Mother was getting closer to university.

The Woman the Child Never Knew

“Next week’s speech topic is to ask your parents how they met.”

The teacher announced as the lesson came to an end.

Later that afternoon… the child returned home.

Mother was in the kitchen. Cooking.

“Mmmh… it smells nice in here!”

Mother smiled.

“You know it!”

The child continued.

“By the way, Mum… we have this school speech we need to prepare.”

“And it’s about how our parents met.”

“So… how did you and Dad meet?”

Mother smiled.

And while she continued cooking… she responded.

“Alright, let me take you back…”

“I had just started my first year at university.”

“I was studying teaching.”

“And that’s where I met your father for the first time.”

“He was this shy young man who approached me…”

“Almost mumbling his words.”

The child interrupted.

“Wait, wait, wait, Mum!”

“Dad?”

“My dad?”

“Why was he mumbling?”

Mother laughed.

“Yes! Your father!”

“No ways! Dad was shy?”

“Oh, very shy!”

Mother continued.

“Anyway… I rejected him.”

“But he kept coming back.”

“And I kept telling him no.”

“Until eventually…”

“I decided to give him a chance.”

“And years later…”

“Here we are.”

“Married for over ten years.”

The child’s jaw dropped.

“I never saw that coming!”

“Thanks, Mum!”

And just like that… the child ran off to the bedroom.

Mother smiled. Then returned her attention to the pot.

But as the food continued cooking… something moved inside her.

Because Mother knew… she hadn’t told her child the full story.

Not that she had lied.

She had indeed rejected the young man who would eventually become Father.

And at first… she hadn’t planned on dating him.

But there was another reason she had eventually given him a chance.

Her parents. Your grandparents.

They had begun putting pressure on her to get married.

They believed that as a woman grew older… her chances of finding somebody willing to marry her would decrease.

And Mother was approaching the age they considered appropriate.

There was also another young man.

A male friend her family knew.

A well-mannered boy. Somebody her parents believed would make a good husband.

But the woman before Mother… didn’t love him.

She never had.

And now she found herself considering a future that other people were already beginning to imagine for her.

Looking back now, I realise how easily the future other people imagine for us can begin influencing the decisions we make for ourselves. Sometimes those expectations come from people who genuinely care about us. Parents. Family. People who believe they know what will make us happy. But somewhere between what they want for us and what we want for ourselves… a person must still discover which choices truly belong to them. A different struggle between identity and expectation is explored deeper in The Version They Needed.

On one side… the male friend her family approved of.

On the other… a shy young man she initially found funny.

A man who kept showing interest in her.

And eventually… she made her decision.

She chose the shy young man.

Not because she had suddenly fallen deeply in love.

But because she wanted to give that relationship a chance.

And as the years continued… something developed between them.

A love she hadn’t necessarily imagined when he first approached her at university.

A relationship that eventually became a marriage.

And then… the children came.

The woman before Mother began living another version of her life.

School uniforms. Meals. Family responsibilities.

And the familiar routines her children now associated with the woman they called Mum.

But there was something her family didn’t know.

Something Mother had carried with her throughout those years.

Not a terrible secret. Not something she was ashamed of.

Just something that belonged to a part of her life they hadn’t witnessed.

Sometimes… when she found herself alone in the house… Mother would open a small box.

And inside… was a necklace.

The same necklace she had received from the handsome young man at the Brenda Fassie concert.

All those years ago.

Engraved on it… was one word.

Ethereal.

She had kept it.

Through the relationships. Through university. Through marriage.

And eventually… through motherhood.

Not only because it reminded her of the young man she had met that afternoon.

But because it reminded her of something else.

A time when she was still discovering life.

When her future wasn’t yet filled with the responsibilities she would eventually come to know.

A time when she was simply a young woman… making decisions.

Experiencing things. Sometimes getting them right.

And sometimes… getting them wrong.

And whenever Mother opened that box… she would smile.

Remembering a version of herself… before anybody called her Mother.

Conclusion: Before They Called Her Mother

The woman before Mother eventually closed the small box… and placed it back where she had kept it for all those years.

Inside… the necklace remained.

Ethereal.

A gift from a young man whose name she could no longer remember.

But the memories?

Those remained.

The music. The laughter. The friends.

The decisions she made.

Some that worked out.

And others she would come to understand differently as she grew older.

But life had continued.

The woman before Mother eventually became somebody’s wife.

And later… somebody’s Mother.

The version who once stood among thousands of people at a Brenda Fassie concert… now stood in a kitchen preparing supper for her family.

The same woman.

Just living another chapter of her life.

And perhaps… there was nothing wrong with that.

Because she loved the family she had built.

She loved her children.

And the shy young man she had once rejected… had become the husband she loved.

But loving the life she had today… didn’t mean the life she had before it had never existed.

Meanwhile… in another room… the child was preparing a school speech.

A speech about how Mother and Father had met.

The shy young man. The repeated rejection. The unexpected chance she eventually gave him.

And the marriage that followed.

A beautiful story.

And a true one.

But not the entire story.

The child didn’t know about the pressure Mother had once felt to get married.

The relationships that came before Father.

The mistakes she had made.

Or the young man she kissed at a concert decades earlier.

And perhaps… the child didn’t need to know every detail.

Because Mother had a life before she became part of theirs.

A life that didn’t begin with ironing school uniforms.

Preparing meals. Finding things her children misplaced. Or making sure the house was in order.

There was a time when she was somebody’s daughter.

A friend. A student.

A young woman trying to understand what she wanted from life.

Sometimes certain. Sometimes confused.

Sometimes making decisions she would later question.

And sometimes… simply enjoying being young.

Then as the years continued… the woman grew.

Her responsibilities changed.

Her understanding of love changed.

And eventually… the people around her began knowing her by another name.

Mother.

That evening… as the family gathered again… the child would still see the same woman.

The woman who knew where everything was.

The woman whose food made the whole house smell like home.

The woman who seemed to have answers to almost everything.

And perhaps the same thought would return.

Yoh… my father must be a lucky man.

I hope that one day… I find a woman just like my mother.

But there was something the child had never considered.

The woman standing before them… hadn’t always been the woman they knew.

She had lived. Loved. Made mistakes. Changed her mind.

And experienced things that had nothing to do with the family she would eventually raise.

And somewhere in that house… there was still a photograph of a young woman wearing a Kangol bucket hat.

A woman who once believed she knew what her future would look like.

A woman whose life had taken her through experiences her children would never witness.

Yet whenever the child looked at that photograph… they saw Mother.

Not the girl who stood before the camera.

Not the young woman who had dreams of her own.

But Mother.

And perhaps that’s what makes the question so interesting.

Because the child had spent years admiring the woman they wanted to find one day… without ever asking what kind of woman their own mother once wanted to become… before they called her Mother.

Mpumelelo Ncwana writes about the psychology behind decisions, identity, and the systems that shape behaviour.