I skim through pages of my mother's journal, hoping for glimpses of myself & as I leaf through her past, images of her scribing in front of my childlike eyes assault my memories.
I see her clear as day before me, in a bou bou created by my grandmother's love. I see her trying to hide tears from me as she pours them into the blank pages of the book in my hand today.
Carrying this vision in my heart, I took it to my thread & needles, setting upon making my own translation of that moment.
& so I introduce the Amewusika exegesis of what our mothers & their mothers wore while they laughed, cried, danced, cooked, slept & loved, with us in their hearts, on their backs or in their arms.
In honour of my mother's heartbreak & yours, I create a new interpretation of comfort to see you safe through your own rite of passage.