My Hero

(FLASH FICTION)

My hero is nothing like those you see in the movies or comic books. She has no cape or fancy outfit. No quick and witty sidekick. Her superpowers are not what you would expect or even respect. Selfless, humble, and persevering she stands perfectly wrapped in bold dark skin. Skin baked and cracked by the relentless African sun. Skin that would glow if only she gave it a chance. If only she treated it the way she did me and my siblings. The way she did Father. Father who comes home every night to a beautiful smile and a warm meal, even though his response is almost always a tired grunt.

Sitting on a stool in the backyard washing the vegetables, I discreetly watch Mother pounding away in the late morning sun. With the back of her hand, she pauses to wipe the sweat off her brow before continuing to plunge the pestle powerfully onto the content of the mortar. Again and again, she pounds away. Singing joyfully into the clear skies, you will never guess Father almost shouted the roof down before storming off just a few hours ago. All she did was remind him the new academic year was a few days away.

It was not yet noon but the house had been cleaned, my siblings and I fed, water fetched and now lunch was being prepared. I wish I could help her more, but she insists I go to school. She somehow manages to do it all, still, she does not want this for me. I think she knows I cannot be as strong as she is. Both inside and out, my mother is the very embodiment of strength. Strength to wake up every morning to a difficult life. Strength to carry the heaviest loads and walk the longest distances. I often wonder what magical well she draws her strength from.

I wonder why I have never heard her complain, even when her friends stop by and she has an excuse to put her feet up for just a few minutes. When the sound of her laughter fills the compound and her brown eyes light up with excitement. I have seen only three things stir her up this way; the friendship of her peers, the faces of her children, and all things Jesus. It only makes sense that Mother's strength comes from God. Sunday School had already introduced us to Samson and David. Mother loves Jesus more than anything else. That has to be her secret weapon. And it makes me curious about Him.