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1 The Woman Behind the Beat
The hum of the ICU machines had a rhythm.
Soft, constant, distant — like the baseline in one of CJ's slow tracks.
He sat by her side, elbows on his knees, sketchbook closed in his lap. Not to write lyrics tonight, but to listen.
Mama Achieng lay still, eyes closed, her breath shallow but steady. The soft oxygen mask framed her face. CJ had always remembered her as tall and powerful — even if she wasn't either. It was her presence. Her will.
The nurses called her "the quiet lioness."
CJ called her his first anthem.
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2 Back When It Was Just Them
After Baba died in that matatu accident, it was just the two of them.
CJ was barely five.
Mama, only twenty-four.
She worked three jobs:
– Cleaning offices by dawn
– Selling sukuma and tomatoes at the market by day
– Plaiting neighbors' hair in their one-room house by night
He remembered waking up to the scent of charcoal smoke and her soft singing — always the same song:
> "Hakuna mungu kama wewe…"
"There is no God like you…"
Sometimes, when he couldn't sleep, she'd rap old church lines in rhythm just to make him laugh.
That's when CJ learned music wasn't just entertainment.
It was survival.
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3 Mama's Voice
Her voice wasn't fancy — but it was strong.
Even when CJ failed school tests.
Even when he came home with split lips from bullies.
Even when he brought home a notebook filled with raps instead of homework.
She'd flip through his lyrics, eyebrows raised.
Then smile.
"Spit one," she'd say. "Make it count."
She was the first person to tell him:
"Your words will take you further than your feet."
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4 The Silent Sacrifice
CJ didn't know the truth until Form 2.
That the money she saved for his school uniform came from pawning her wedding ring.
He found the receipt one day while cleaning the shelf.
When he asked her, she just smiled and said,
"Jewels are heavy, but knowledge flies."
That night, he wrote his first serious verse — not for school, not for YouTube. Just for her.
> "If I ever win, Mama,
You're my first verse,
My hook, my harmony—
The only beat that's always true."
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5 Now, in the Hospital
CJ leaned forward and gently took her hand.
So thin now. So quiet.
But still hers.
"Mama," he whispered, voice cracking.
"I signed the deal. But on my terms. Not theirs."
He squeezed her hand.
"You're the reason I kept my name. My pen. My soul."
Shantel entered silently, carrying a flask of warm uji and a fresh blanket.
"She moved a little while ago," she whispered, setting the things down.
CJ nodded, eyes never leaving his mother's face.
"She fought so long. I just… I don't want her to leave before I show her what she built."
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6 A Flash of Yesterday
In his mind, CJ saw a day — five years ago — when he got caught stealing bread for lunch. The school nearly expelled him.
Mama walked in, head high, kitenge tied tight, dignity louder than her fear.
She didn't scold him in public.
She didn't shout.
She just said, "I'll bring food. You bring effort."
That was her:
No drama. No lectures. Just expectation.
And love that never needed a microphone.
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7 When She Woke
Just before dawn, as the city blinked to life, Mama's fingers moved.
CJ leapt to his feet.
"Mama?"
Her eyes fluttered open — slow, heavy, but aware.
"Mtoto wangu?"
Her voice was a ghost of itself.
"My son?"
CJ's heart exploded with relief. "Yes, Mama. I'm here."
She tried to lift her hand. He guided it to his cheek.
Tears spilled freely.
"You're crying," she murmured.
CJ laughed and cried all at once. "Strong people cry too. Right?"
A soft smile. "You remember."
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8 Their Talk
After the nurse checked her vitals and left, CJ sat down again.
He told her everything.
The deal. The hospital bill.
The album they were recording.
The single they dropped.
The people who cheered.
The boy he used to battle with — now rebuilding in rehab.
Mama listened, weak but alert.
"You didn't sell your name?" she asked.
"No." He reached into his bag and handed her a copy of the contract. "I kept my pen."
Her eyes welled up.
"You've become the man your father would've dreamed of. But more than that—you became yourself."
She placed her hand over his heart.
"This is your greatest studio."
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9 A Mother's Wisdom
Before she drifted off again, she whispered:
> "Remember, CJ.
When fame speaks, let your silence decide.
When money talks, let your soul answer.
And when you write—don't chase noise.
Chase truth."
He nodded, every syllable sinking deep into his bones.
He kissed her forehead gently, and whispered back,
"I'm building a life in your image, Mama.
Verse by verse."
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10 Later That Morning
Shantel found CJ outside, staring up at the clouds.
"She's stable," he said, not turning.
Shantel slipped her arm into his.
"She'll be okay?"
CJ exhaled. "She has to be. Not just for me. For every kid who thinks they can't make it from the estate."
He looked at her.
"I'm going to name the album after her."
Shantel smiled. "What will you call it?"
CJ looked toward the hospital window.
> "Mama's Voice."
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11 One Last Note
Back in the studio that night, CJ opened his sketchbook.
He wrote a hook, simple and raw:
> "Your hands shaped my rhythm,
Your voice my first song,
You loved me in silence,
Where most get it wrong."
And under it:
> For Mama Achieng,
The only queen I ever needed
Before I met the one I'd love.
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End of Chapter Fifteen