Maame

by Jessica George

before Dad was ill, before Grandad died and left Mum the commitment. All I know is, their marriage has taught me many things but sadly it’s mainly taught me what to avoid. “Okay, Mum.” She sniffs, unimpressed. “I bet you talk to your friends about boys but not your own mother.” I hand her another peg. “You once said friends and mothers aren’t the same.” “Of course they’re not.” I roll my eyes when she can’t see. “Some mothers and daughters are best friends,” I point out. “Those mothers don’t know what they’re doing.” “Mum!” “It’s true!” She kisses her teeth to reinforce this. “We are not age-mates, Maddie. We are not peers. There is a reason ‘mother’ is one word and ‘friend’ is another. You should tell your friends some things and your mother everything.”

“You’re Ghanaian?” “I am indeed. Which means I’m well aware of the importance of names in our culture. In many ways, they’re given to us in an attempt to speak to our future. Growing up, I had many friends named Glory, Patience, Wisdom, Comfort. It seems there is a link between our names and our supposed destiny. We could apply that thinking to the name Maame: the responsible one. The woman. The mother. Often before her time.” Angelina closes her notebook. “How do you feel about that name, Maddie?”

I shift. This question has suddenly made me very uncomfortable. “Why are we talking about my nickname?” “Because I’d like to get to know you,” she answers simply. “I mainly provide counseling services to companies with a mental-health initiative and it’s been a while since I’ve seen someone so young with such heavy shoulders.” “I can’t be the worst person you’ve met.” “‘Worst’ would imply there’s something wrong with you—and there’s not. A person’s troubles are not measured by the size of those troubles, but by how much they weigh on the individual carrying them. I’ve noticed already you’re very concerned about how others

feel rather than focusing on how you feel. I asked about your first days back and all you’ve spoken about is whether you’re reacting in a way that your colleagues will find appropriate, or easy to process. It’s not your job to make your colleagues feel comfortable all of the time. That in itself is a burden too heavy to carry when grieving. I imagine your instinct to put others first, even if detrimental to yourself, also plays a par...