On a Friday morning in late July, shortly after 5:00 am, my uncle called to tell me my mom had passed away. Ever since moving to America in 2002, I have dreaded receiving this call. Since we saw each other only 1-2 times a year, I felt I wouldn't be around when she passed. This feeling of dread and angst silently haunted me for 21 years.

Growing up, the doorbell at our family home often rang, sometimes at odd hours. As soon as the ring was heard, we also heard Rocky, our German Shepherd, barking in the backyard. Cousins, uncles and aunts, neighbors and strangers were waiting on the other side of the green gates to meet my mother.

My mother, Maman Monique, or "Ma Mo'" as she was affectionately known, had a giving heart. As a result, there was a DMV-like line outside our home regularly. The only difference is that our DMV didn't have closing hours posted. After the guests were invited in and eased into the green velour (80's fashion?) living room chairs, mom summoned me to offer them some appéritifs and snacks. I would drape a white kitchen towel on my left forearm and become a 12 year old sommelier as I poured wine into glasses. As the liquid flowed, I overheard their conversations. Some would ask for money for hospital bills, to buy a car, to build a home, to start a business, and more. She would then interview them to assess whether there was a true need. Some left disappointed and others elated. There was one sure way to get her to say yes to your money request. Anyone who asked for money for their children's school expenses or for their own, she always offered to pay for those qualifying educational expenses. Her goal was not charity, but uplifting people to improve their current realities to become self-sufficient. She did it so they could support themselves and generations after them. The importance of education was unwittingly conveyed to my siblings and me through her impromptu lectures.

The truth is, I was upset. My mom always told me money was tight, but I watched her give it away to others. She refused to pay for my favorite Jordans and that beautiful white Allen Iverson home jersey I thought would make me a basketball superstar! Instead, she would purchase a "no brand name" uncomfortable white canvas shoe, on which I would draw, with a sharpie, the Nike logo. She also bought me a "Nikee" jersey with a suspiciously crooked swoosh. As a teenager, I couldn't understand how my mom's money funded other people's education when I could use it to upgrade my swagger!

It was a humble beginning for my mom, who was born in a small village in Cameroon on June 12, 1942. She moved to Paris, France in 1968 where she studied and worked at Électricité De France (EDF). In 1975, she returned to Cameroon to work at Société Nationale d'Électricité (SONEL) until retiring in 2002. She did administrative and clerical work her whole career. In the mid-1980s, she saved enough money to travel every summer to Paris during the sale season. She would walk the streets from sun up to sun down looking for deals on shoes, handbags, clothes, and other fashion items. She would then return to Cameroon to sell them at a profit. Our home was the storefront where the doorbell would ring, Rocky would bark, and a different kind of DMV-like line would form, people coming in for a shopping trip. With the profits, she would buy small plots of land throughout Cameroon. Even though these were the least desirable plots, she was a visionary and knew they would pay off decades later. She also ran and owned a small convenience store. I remember summers where I was forced to do a "summer internship" at the store. Through this experience, I learned how to approach and engage customers and close a sale. She did all of this while working a full-time job at SONEL and raising three kids.

Her business acumen enabled her to pay for my older brother and sister to move to France to further their education. When the time came to send me abroad to study, I suggested the United States. By then, money was really tight. Thanks a lot, brother and sister! Yet, she saw how much I wanted to study there and borrowed money from several sources to cover my first year. By my sophomore year, I could support myself solely from my work incomes and scholarships.

My first year of college in America was very challenging but thinking about the sacrifices my mother made for my education was the motivation I needed to push through. In her memory, I pledge to continue the fight in her honor - helping folks gain self-sufficiency through education.

-Idriss