I miss my mother.
In preparing for this week’s column, and because it happens to be on Mother’s Day, I decided to go through the columns I have written over the years related to Mother’s Day. They did not make for easy reading, mainly because I could barely see the words through my watery eyes.
“I hope y’all learn how to mek she Mauby”
There are many things I learnt to make from watching my mother cook. Using today’s language, they would be masterclasses. From bakes to trifle, fried rice to cook-up rice, buns to breads, and many things in between, she was a gifted cook and baker. Her exploits in the kitchen extended to the making of homemade favourites like ginger beer and mauby. My mother’s mauby, I would boast, is still the best I have ever tasted and it gives me great pride and pleasure when I hear family and friends, reminisce and eulogise my mom’s mauby. As we gathered one evening after her passing, recalling favourite memories, one of my cousins said, seriously and sternly, to me and my sister, “I hope y’all learn how to mek she mauby!” It was at once an admonishment and a warning. (LOL)