This story began when I was a child. I was born into a poor family that often didn’t have enough food to fill our hungry stomachs. During meal times, Mother would give me her portion of rice. As she transferred her rice into my bowl, she always said, “Eat this rice, son. I’m not hungry.” That was Mother’s First Lie.
As I grew up, my persevering mother spent her spare time fishing to provide me with nutrition. She would cook fresh fish soup for me, and while I ate, she would sit beside me, quietly picking at the remnants left on the fish bones I had finished. Feeling touched, I would offer her the other fish portion, but she always refused, saying, “Eat the fish, son. I don’t like fish.” That was Mother’s Second Lie.
In junior high school, my mother took on extra work, assembling used matchboxes to help fund my studies. One night, I woke up and saw her still working by candlelight. I said, “Mom, go to sleep. It’s late, and you have to work tomorrow.” She smiled and replied, “Go to sleep, dear. I’m not tired.” That was Mother’s Third Lie.
The final term arrived, and Mother took leave from work to be with me. She patiently waited for hours in the heat while I finished my exam. When it ended, she welcomed me and poured a cup of tea from a flask. Seeing her covered in sweat, I offered her my cup, but she pushed it back and said, “Drink, son. I’m not thirsty!” That was Mother’s Fourth Lie.
After my father died, my mother had to provide for us alone. Life became harder, and more complicated, and we suffered daily. Despite our worsening situation, we were blessed with a kind old man who visited and helped us occasionally. Neighbors often advised my mom to remarry, but she refused, saying, “I don’t need love.” That was Mother’s Fifth Lie.
After I finished my studies and got a job, it was time for my mom to retire. But she didn’t want to, she went to the marketplace every morning to sell vegetables to support herself.