Just like any other day, my mothers shuffling feet wakes me up from my sleep knowing already that she will be placing porridge beside my bed.

For weeks on end it has been the same thing, I lift the blanket from my face and look at her, she gives me her saddest smile as she sits on the bed. “You have to eat something my baby khona uzoba namandla (so that you can be strong).”

“How?” I ask as the tears slide down my face “How can I eat something when I don’t know if wherever he is, he is being fed.”

She wipes my tears from my face “Eat before the porridge get’s cold, and get up and fight for your child.” And with that she got up and left.