Now, I REALLY love my mum. She is my best friend and biggest inspiration. HOWEVER, I strongly remember some of the most traumatic moments of my life involved shopping with her. I’m probably being a bit dramatic but I remember having a good day with the family and then the dreaded ”Can we just stop here for 5 minutes on our way back?” would happen. It never lasted 5 minutes. For some reason, as a child, these places were just the worst places to me. I could not for life of me understand why people would voluntarily go there. Fast forward a couple of years and you will find me frequenting and LOVING these stores. So, here are a few of the stores I hated going to with my mother. (I won’t be using names, but PLEASE feel free to guess!)
6 stores I hated going to with my mother:
- Plastic shops: Big, crowded plastic container shops. My mother would go in with the intention of finding a solution to store her sewing needles and come out planning how she’s going to rearrange her kitchen with all the new containers she purchased. This was a monthly thing and lasted HOURS. I can’t complain, she often bought me things from there. Like the time she got me a lunch tiffin for my first year of campus. Because that’s what I needed to up my cool game, already looking and feeling awkward. A 3 tier container for dhall, rice and aloo fry. Thanks Mom.
- Spice shops: It rhymes with JOHANS and JORIMAS. THE LAST THING I NEED IS FOR AALIYAH AND ZAHRA TO SEE ME WITH MY MOTHER AT JORIMAS ON A SATURDAY AFTERNOON IN GATEWAY BUYING GARAM MASALA AND AMLA OIL. I was obviously too cool to be seen there with my acne, bad hair and khaki pants. It’s not all that bad to be honest, I think it was just the state it leaves you in afterwards. You’re sweating, covered in turmeric dust, carrying packets of potato samoosas and you smell like burnt tandoori chicken.
- Fabric shops: How long does it take to choose fabric that’s going to match? The shop is called ”Mix and match”, IT DOESN’T NEED TO MATCH. I remember spending hours going through magazines I clearly wasn’t interested in whilst my mother chose fabric for the outfits she wanted. Because why buy the shirt you saw at Woolworths for R300? Why would we do that? When we can take pictures of it, spend R150 on fabric and R150 on a Pakistani dressmaker and have the same thing done for slightly worse quality? No, who needs convenience and time, not us.
- Islamic book stores: We already have that album of Zain Bhikha Mom. We don’t need that many tasbeeh counters. The world will not run out of Miswaak toothpaste, we don’t need to buy them in bulk. Why thank you, a lime green burka with sparkles is exactly what I needed for Madressah.
- Clothing stores: The experience wasn’t bad at all actually. It’s just….I had to wear what my mother bought for me. I look back at my pictures…. I regret so much.
- Local vegetable/fish shops: I’m not talking about checkers or SPAR or any place with infection control and air conditioning. I’m talking about those proper dingy places that were either 5 minutes away from you in your local town or you had to travel 2 hours to get to because the owners knew your name and had contacts for green mangoes and illegal fish.
These are genuine feelings I had as a child so please don’t hold this terribly bratty attitude against me. My mother means the absolute world to me and I treasure every memory and moment I’ve had with her.
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