Mowsie
(This tribute to Mowsie was written on August 31, 2001. Now that Mowsie is no longer with us the tribute is just as fitting)
At 89 years of age today "Popo", the baby, has not only outlived her family, she has lived longer than any member of her family has. Which is somewhat strange as her life has not been what one might call "normal". For years she lived unmarried in her mother's and brother's home helping to care for her nieces and nephews. After a couple of attempts at making her own home she succumbed to clinical depression. For the last thirty years or so she has lived almost continually at St. Ann's. Yet Mowsie has a special place in our hearts because she is family in the richest sense of the word.
I was quite a young child when Mowsie decided she wanted to learn to write her name. I thought it a little strange that Cecilia, Ermine and I were teaching her to write. She had never had the benefit of going to school. In her day and generation it was unheard of for a girl child to go to school. But she recognized the value of being able to sign her name, and she practiced and practiced until she could do it. She taught herself to read hymns from the hymnbook and would read and sing to herself when she was alone. Who knows what she might have done had she had the opportunities that opened up to her nieces and nephews!
I remember a time when I returned home after I was ordained we were having a prayer meeting for some reason or other. I was reading the 23rd Psalm and as I read I saw Mowsie mouthing the words silently. I was deeply moved at the depth of the devotion she expressed. I remember thinking to myself, "I know the Psalm, but she knows the Shepherd." Another time, as she had been ill for a while, the radio was on and playing some of the popular songs. Mowsie came out of the bedroom and said, something to this effect: "All of these songs about love! If we had that much love in the world we wouldn't have all the problems we have." The power of that observation has stayed with me, too.
To us Kanhai children, Mowsie was a surrogate mother. Indeed, she was a real mother. Ma had more than she could handle with all of us kids, so close together in age, with all the housework and the shop to run while Pa worked outside to bring home some cash. Mowsie was there to help care for us. I remember those baths she gave us, rubbing our skin until the "maila" came off in rolls (and I always thought, some skin, too!). Or putting so much coconut oil on my head to comb my hair that it ran down my cheeks. Or putting oil in our ears. But Mowsie's penchant was for "hayraying" one's head. If you just happened to be sitting near her Mowsie's hand went automatically to your head and she would start searching automatically. With all the hayraying she did you would think that she would have gotten rid of all the lice!
I would have been quite young, I think, probably less than five years old, and something must have been said about money. Maybe it was something that just came to my mind, but I remember thinking, "when I grow up and I have money I will give Mowsie five dollars." To me five dollars must have seemed like a tidy fortune. In any case, I don't recall giving her five dollars or any amount when I had money, but do I recall that she gave me a great deal more than I could ever repay.
The one thing that I recall that gave me a great deal of "pain" was the relationship between Mowsie and Ma. Some of the same tensions had existed between Nanee and Ma, as I recall. I still remember with a great deal of pain one day in particular when Mowsie was especially mean to Ma in what she said, and Ma in her quiet, long-suffering way said nothing. But, later, when she was alone, Ma cried silently. It broke my heart that these two people who meant so much to me, whom I loved so deeply, and whose love I felt so warmly in my own life, had so much difficulty living together. I was only a child, then, but even now as I think about it my eyes are brimming.
For some reason no matter what I say I can't seem to capture in words the intensity, the fierceness with which Mowsie loved us. She loved us with a jealous love. She loved us as if we were the children born of her own body. I sometimes give Mowsie, along with Nanee, the credit for spoiling me as the first son of the family. But then, she spoiled us all as if we were special, indeed, as if we were the only children in the world. And we certainly were, to her. How lucky for us! Happy Birthday Mowsie!
At 89 years of age today "Popo", the baby, has not only outlived her family, she has lived longer than any member of her family has. Which is somewhat strange as her life has not been what one might call "normal". For years she lived unmarried in her mother's and brother's home helping to care for her nieces and nephews. After a couple of attempts at making her own home she succumbed to clinical depression. For the last thirty years or so she has lived almost continually at St. Ann's. Yet Mowsie has a special place in our hearts because she is family in the richest sense of the word.
I was quite a young child when Mowsie decided she wanted to learn to write her name. I thought it a little strange that Cecilia, Ermine and I were teaching her to write. She had never had the benefit of going to school. In her day and generation it was unheard of for a girl child to go to school. But she recognized the value of being able to sign her name, and she practiced and practiced until she could do it. She taught herself to read hymns from the hymnbook and would read and sing to herself when she was alone. Who knows what she might have done had she had the opportunities that opened up to her nieces and nephews!
I remember a time when I returned home after I was ordained we were having a prayer meeting for some reason or other. I was reading the 23rd Psalm and as I read I saw Mowsie mouthing the words silently. I was deeply moved at the depth of the devotion she expressed. I remember thinking to myself, "I know the Psalm, but she knows the Shepherd." Another time, as she had been ill for a while, the radio was on and playing some of the popular songs. Mowsie came out of the bedroom and said, something to this effect: "All of these songs about love! If we had that much love in the world we wouldn't have all the problems we have." The power of that observation has stayed with me, too.
To us Kanhai children, Mowsie was a surrogate mother. Indeed, she was a real mother. Ma had more than she could handle with all of us kids, so close together in age, with all the housework and the shop to run while Pa worked outside to bring home some cash. Mowsie was there to help care for us. I remember those baths she gave us, rubbing our skin until the "maila" came off in rolls (and I always thought, some skin, too!). Or putting so much coconut oil on my head to comb my hair that it ran down my cheeks. Or putting oil in our ears. But Mowsie's penchant was for "hayraying" one's head. If you just happened to be sitting near her Mowsie's hand went automatically to your head and she would start searching automatically. With all the hayraying she did you would think that she would have gotten rid of all the lice!
I would have been quite young, I think, probably less than five years old, and something must have been said about money. Maybe it was something that just came to my mind, but I remember thinking, "when I grow up and I have money I will give Mowsie five dollars." To me five dollars must have seemed like a tidy fortune. In any case, I don't recall giving her five dollars or any amount when I had money, but do I recall that she gave me a great deal more than I could ever repay.
The one thing that I recall that gave me a great deal of "pain" was the relationship between Mowsie and Ma. Some of the same tensions had existed between Nanee and Ma, as I recall. I still remember with a great deal of pain one day in particular when Mowsie was especially mean to Ma in what she said, and Ma in her quiet, long-suffering way said nothing. But, later, when she was alone, Ma cried silently. It broke my heart that these two people who meant so much to me, whom I loved so deeply, and whose love I felt so warmly in my own life, had so much difficulty living together. I was only a child, then, but even now as I think about it my eyes are brimming.
For some reason no matter what I say I can't seem to capture in words the intensity, the fierceness with which Mowsie loved us. She loved us with a jealous love. She loved us as if we were the children born of her own body. I sometimes give Mowsie, along with Nanee, the credit for spoiling me as the first son of the family. But then, she spoiled us all as if we were special, indeed, as if we were the only children in the world. And we certainly were, to her. How lucky for us! Happy Birthday Mowsie!
posted by cornelius @ 9:57 PM
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