For the first decade of my life, I didn’t speak a word of English. My proficiency in the language extended as far as the odd catch phrase I’d picked up from television and then would duly repeat most often in some obscure Zulu-peppered version. But seeing me watch cartoons, one would have been fooled into believing I was able to follow every word of the multicoloured characters that baby sat my cousin and I after school.

One such show was about a bee, Archie, in search of his mom. Every week he got just that much closer. Every week he lost at the hands of the cosmic joke that was being played on him. My cousin and I lapped it all up. Archie became our friend and brother as we joined him in this quest, because even in the absence of linguistic comprehension, we spoke the universal language: the unyielding need and love for a mother. I have encountered many other animated heart-string tuggers, including the famous Bambi.

The successful formula has been repackaged and reworked for our maternal-needy consumption, because mothers have been and continue to be the backbone and essence from which we are able to mould ourselves. They have been the glue that put us back together when our siblings broke our favourite toy. They have fed us things we were sure were going to kill us, even though they told us it would make us stronger. Mothers also stayed up with us as we threw up the last bit of dignity one can muster while slumped on a lavatory floor.

Motherhood has, of course, changed over the years. No longer reduced to the confines of matronly perfection, mothers now come in an array of personalities and expressions, probably best encapsulated by the phrase MILF. (If you are not familiar with what a MILF is, welcome to 2018. Unfortunately, I am not in a position to explain it on this platform; Google it). While not yet a mother myself, I imagine the only thing that mothering boils down to is the unwavering love, and sacrifice, that these brave women have expressed for us, their offspring. To mom: I’m sorry for stealing your shirt the last time I was home.

And to the other millions of goddesses out there, have a splendid Mother’s Day this Sunday. We all know you deserve more than one day of recognition but... patriarchy