I recently saw a post that “All African mothers are siblings, and we all live in the same house”. 

I laughed because it is true. 

Whether you are in Katutura, Okalongo or Ondangwa, our mothers all seem to move the same. They refuse to sit still. 

Whenever I go home for the holidays, my mother and I clash on one small but very important concept rest. 

Her definition of it is completely different from mine. 

When I go to the north during December, I already know what is waiting for me. 

I allow my mother to wake us up at 6h00 to go plough in the fields because that is the way of life during December, it is expected. 

But here is the funny part, even after the day’s chores are done, mothers can never just sit and enjoy the quiet. 

The minute you sit down, she will look at you and say, “Itodulu kukala omtumba” (You can’t just sit down and do nothing). 

At first, I thought this refusal to rest was stubbornness, but the more I looked at it, the more I realised it is cultural and, dare I say, even generational. 

It is a notion they were raised on. 

You see, many of us come from the same type of home setup. 

I say “typical” Oshiwambo households, but honestly, it was the same across most Namibian cultures. 

The wife stayed in the north, raising the children, tending the field, fetching water, cooking and doing all the chores that kept the home alive. 

The husband, meanwhile, went to the city or the farms, looking for greener pastures and working to send money home. 

So, there simply was no time or space for rest as we know it. 

Their days were full of sunrise to long after sunset, and even when their bodies ached, there was always something left to do. 

For our mothers, rest was not part of survival. 

It was a luxury no one thought they could afford. 

Now, as millennials, we have to unlearn that thinking to convince our parents that rest is not laziness. 

But it is not an easy conversation. 

The moment you suggest they take a nap or skip a day in the field, they will remind you: “When I was your age, I could pound mahangu, fetch water and firewood, and still make dinner”. 

They are right, they did all of that and more. 

But that was what they knew, not necessarily what they had to keep doing forever. 

When I think of my mother, I realise she associates rest with wasting time, energy or potential. 

But I see it as what refuels me. 

When I rest, I am able to work better, think clearly, and love more deeply. 

Our mothers worked themselves into exhaustion because the world gave them no other option. 

We are trying to work ourselves into balance because we have seen what that exhaustion does. 

So, yes, when I am at home, I wake up early, do the chores, plough and try not to complain. 

But when back in the city, rest looks different. 

It is sleeping in, lying still and watching the sunset without guilt. 

And maybe one day, our mothers will understand that rest is not rebellion but repair. 

*Frieda Mukufa’s lifestyle section in the New Era concentrates on women-related issues and parenting. She specialises in editing research proposals, proofreading and content creation. – etuholefrieda@ gmail.com