Celebrating Mother's day

For most people (well-adjusted people, to be precise), their mother is the most important person in their lives. I mean, there is no love like a mother's love. Most kids, when they grow up, their inspiration is often their mothers because they feel like they owe a lot to the woman who gave them life and kept them alive.

But then, there is Wamaku, the foreman at the Mang'ula road construction site. Wamaku is a big man, both in stature and presence, known for his booming voice that could be heard across the construction site, even over the roar of machinery. He is the type of man who wears his hard hat even at lunchtime and believes that if something doesn’t fit, you just need a bigger hammer.

Wamaku has always thought of himself as a man’s man—tough, unyielding, and as immovable as the mountains that surrounded Mang'ula. However, there is one thing that can soften even Wamaku’s steely exterior: his mother.

It was a hot afternoon, and the crew was hard at work, trying to finish the stretch of road that had been giving them trouble for weeks. The sun was relentless, and the air was filled with the sound of shovels clinking against gravel. Wamaku, as usual, was barking orders, his voice carrying over the din. “Sharifu, I told you to level that ground! If I have to tell you one more time, I’ll—”

Just then, Wamaku’s phone rang. He stopped mid-sentence, glanced at the caller ID, and his expression changed from a scowl to one of surprise. “Hold on a minute,” he muttered, stepping away from the crew and answering the call. “Mama! Hujambo!”

Sharifu and the rest of the crew exchanged glances, bemused by the sudden shift in Wamaku’s tone. Gone was the gruff foreman; in his place was a man speaking in the softest, most respectful voice they had ever heard.

“Yes, Mama, I’m drinking water… Yes, Mama, I’m eating well…” Wamaku’s voice was filled with affection as he paced back and forth, completely oblivious to the curious eyes watching him. The crew stifled their laughter, trying to keep their composure as they listened to their formidable foreman being reduced to a doting son.

When Wamaku hung up, he returned to the group with a smile that could only be described as sheepish. “Right,” he said, clearing his throat, “where were we?”

Sharifu, always the joker, couldn’t resist. “We were just about to ask if we should call Mama to remind you to take it easy on us.”

The whole crew erupted in laughter, and even Wamaku couldn’t help but chuckle. He knew when he was beat, and there was no arguing with Mama—or the teasing that would follow.

As the day went on, Wamaku’s tough exterior slipped just a little, and the crew worked with a bit more spring in their step. They knew that beneath all the gruffness, their foreman had a heart as big as his voice.

And so, as Mother’s Day approached, the crew decided to surprise Wamaku. On the morning of Mother’s Day, they presented him with a small cake and a card that read, “To the man with the biggest heart and the loudest voice—Happy Mother’s Day to your Mama, Wamaku!”

Wamaku was touched, though he’d never admit it. He smiled, shook his head, and thanked his crew in the only way he knew how—by giving them the afternoon off. “Now, go call your mothers,” he said, waving them off with a grin.

And as they left, Sharifu turned back and called out, “Sending love to Mama Wamaku!”

Wamaku just laughed and waved them off, thinking to himself that maybe, just maybe, his crew wasn’t so bad after all.

Photo Credit: Businessreport.ng