Guilt

My mother use to work for a place called, Spargs supermarket, in Mthatha. She worked there for as long as I can remember. According to her, she started working at Spargs when it was still a small shop. Now, the place is as big as any Franchise could get.

Even though she no longer works there now, for reasons I cannot know because I'm a “kid” (Of course, I can take a wild guess), I posses fond memories of the time.

Memoirs of time...

Each and every day, my mother would come home with a very fresh white loaf and two packets of fruit. Back then, Spargs plastic bags were red and black. Plastic bags were free. Today, however, they are white and green.

I would approach her, as she would be walking unsteadily, with heavy plastic bags, towards the gate. I knew that when we get inside the house, I hold the power to choose first, whatever was worth my lips. I don't know how and why I don't get fat, that woman fed me, alright.

Amongst all the goodies my mother would have, I would find sandwiches that were given just one bite and take aways that are were touched, but not really touched.

Questions of a child...

At some point, I felt the need to ask my mother what was the deal with the touched, but not really touched take-aways and half bitten (for a lack of a better word) sandwiches. She replied saying, one of her colleagues likes taking her out to eat during lunch time. This friend always buys (my mother was as broke as a church mouse). She would buy all the stuff my mother felt was -only- for rich people.

My mother says, she would only bite her sandwich once and not touch it again. And then, she would chat non-stop till lunch hour was over. That was the strangest thing ever, I thought.

Nonetheless, she justified herself to me saying; she didn't do this weird act because she didn't like the food. She loved it. But, she never felt right chowing all the goodies that her children are not familiar with She never felt right eating not knowing what her kids could be eating. Instead, she felt it was better to bring the touched, but not really touched take-aways and half bitten sandwiches home, for her kids to share...

Bad Habit

Later in the years, I found myself suffering because of this weird act. A leaf does not fall far from its tree, says a saying and that's exactly what happened to me.

I am the kind of guy who dine with friends at restaurants; Mugg n' bean, Cappello's, Metro restaurant, etc and I would order all the stuff I feel I like, or that I have never tasted. But, every time the plate is placed in front of me, the first thing to touch the plate would be my guilty conscious.

I would begin to think back home; Eish, do they have food to eat, if they would see me now, would they think I'm selfish or maybe I have forgotten about them? Am I wasting money? This whole thing would inflict all the memories of my mother bringing us her leftovers. However, I would continue to eat my chicken-a-la kings and drink the sweet rose.

I don't keep on eating because I don't care. Lord knows I do. I work -if I can call it that- and from the little amount I earn I give some of it to my mother, every month. She appreciates it, I know she does. She raised me up to be a different person and to be a man who is responsible for his family. Of course, I am all that. At least, I believe so.

The feeling of guilt never seem to fade, instead it grows. But, I always suppress it by thinking of the call she usually give me, every time I had just sent her money. She wants me to spend 'my' money however I want. She doesn't want me to do things the way she did. She wants me to have fun with it, but most of all she wants me to take good care of myself with this money.

Yeah well, in that case, the First Lady has spoken. Screw the guilty conscious; Let me dine in the company of true minds, life is not life without a dish of good food and an exquisite taste of dry white wine. I admit, it costs. But, I am worth it and I worked for it...

Happy read!