My mother passed away yesterday. She was 89 years. My memories of her.

At a tender age, I suffered with bronchitis. When I coughed, my chest hurt and I become breathless. I hardly ate, and my body was a tiny frame. My mom would feed me a little soup every day… I was sure it tasted good, but my mouth had no taste… One night, I was coughing a lot and my mother’s assistant –my father, rubbed my chest, back, throat and the under my feet with Vicks. Then, he told me to put a little bit of Vicks in my nostrils, then a little bit on my tongue and swallow it… My mother dressed me in a flannel vest, my nightie and socks. I used to be very upset when I got this sick because I knew my mom was going to take me to the clinic. The medical practitioner at the clinic would give me the most horrible tasting cough syrup. I don’t know why they think that over sweetening medicine would make it taste better. Every time she came into./ the bedroom with the bottle of cough syrup, I complained… I felt a little better, but the tightness in my chest was still there, and I was still coughing. My mom said, “It’s been eight days since you have been sick. You haven’t eaten a proper meal since.”

“I am not feeling hungry.”

“The build up of mucus is causing you to feel this way. I want to give you a medicine that will make you feel better, but it taste horrible. Do you want it?”

I was tired of being sick, so I said, “Yes”

“It will make you vomit, but you will feel better after.”

 “Would you stay with me when I start vomiting?”

“Yes. I would be right by your side.”

“I will drink it,” I said.

My mother went to the back of our house and she picked some leaves from a sirrio tree. I sat at the kitchen table and watched her wash the leaves, put them in a piece of brown cotton, rest it on the cutting board and pound it with a pestle. When she was finished, she squeezed the liquid out in a glass. It was dark green in color. She stirred in a little salt then handed me the glass.

“Drink all of it,” she said.

I did not wait; I drank it… It did taste horrible, and I felt nauseous. For more than an hour, I felt this way… Eventually, I felt like vomiting, so I ran to the bathroom… What came out of me was past horrible, but my mother stood next to me and she rubbed my back…When I was finished, I looked at her and smiled…

“How are you feeling?”

“I am feeling much better, but very hungry.”