My mother

Stories and News No. 1073

Eight years ago, Phyllis Omido's son died by lead poisoning through breastfeeding. Since then, she has become Kenya's leading anti-pollution activist and has been threatened, even arrested and forced to hide.
After gaining the accountable factory’s closure with her NGO, Center for Justice, Governance and Environmental Action, she will bring her battle to court once again in order to get the right compensation for family members victims.
A world of victims...

Thank you, mother.
Thank you for what you did.
Thank you, really, for what you do.
But above all, thank you for what you wanted to do and some denied it.
Because that’s where I live.
They exiled me right in what’s missing, and in what’s still possible, I will have my revenge.
Listen to me, now.

Listen to the voice that knows better than any other what losing means.
Mine is an existence that shatters day after day.
I’m the leaves turning yellow every year more.
I’m the water that once flowed and now is forced to flee.
Shining with light that in the silence is blessed and in the opaque, human clamor becomes a sin.
Listen, then, my advice.
Don’t give up.
Not even at the ending, last word, to the fateful point, before the cruel closed door and behind the turned back by the only portion of humanity granted.
My and yours have never been podiums fates.
We don’t tell front-page stories.
We were not built for the Olympus.
It’s a mere question of horizon’s physics.
There are those who have been imagined to point the stars and burn wings and scruples even just to brush their intention.
It’s not us.
Beloved mother, we are here to admire, because we see things from the best point of view: that is, the right one.
That's why we precede anyone in sacrificing ourselves to defend them, and that's why we’re among those who need more help.
Nonetheless, please, although the cacophony of clumsy screams around you will be deafening, despite the dissonance of forms and shades of the scene which you have imprisoned in will be offensive against any grace of the rainbow, you do remember.
Remember who you’re struggling for.
About that, I feel gratitude, mother.
Thank you for being there.
Thank you so much where you’ll be today and tomorrow.
But more than anything I thank you for every place and creature that some will stop you to reach and save.
You’ll find me there, waiting for you.
Because I, the earth, want you and only you, as a mother.
What about you, others?
Forgetting the alibi of the genre and the vanities of contingent features, do you want to be my mother too?


On the same topic:
Forced to use husband's name

Watch the video storytelling with English subtitles:
When poor see us

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