As the days passed, Tari continued to offer everything she had—her time, her money, her energy—without hesitation. But slowly, the strain of always giving began to show.
It was a warm afternoon when her son, Uche, noticed the change.
“Mom, are you okay?” Uche asked, looking at her carefully as she sat on the couch, her head resting against the back. The children were home from school, but Tari seemed quieter than usual, her eyes distant.
“I’m fine, Uche. Just a little tired,” Tari answered, but her voice betrayed her. She had always been able to bounce back quickly from long days, but lately, the weariness seemed to linger. She tried to mask it with a smile, but Uche wasn’t convinced.
“You’re always tired, Mom,” he said softly, sitting beside her. “I know you help a lot of people, but you need to take care of yourself, too.”
Tari gave him a reassuring pat on the shoulder. “You’re right, my son. I just have a lot to do, that’s all.”
Uche had seen his mother give without pause for as long as he could remember. People came to her with their problems, and she gave whatever she could. Money, food, advice, even a place to stay. And she never asked for anything in return.
Later that evening, Tari received another visitor—Chuka, one of her longtime friends from the community. He had always been the one to drop by for a chat, a meal, or just a place to relax. Tari welcomed him with her usual warmth, offering him food and drink, even though her body ached for rest.
“Ah, Tari,” Chuka said as he sank into the couch, “You’re always a breath of fresh air. How do you do it?”
Tari smiled, “It’s just how I’ve always been, Chuka. I believe we should help each other.”
Chuka chuckled. “I’ve seen you help everyone, and I mean everyone! I sometimes wonder how you manage it all. I don’t know anyone who has as much heart as you.”
Tari laughed weakly. “It’s not about having heart, it’s about doing what needs to be done.”
But as she sat across from him, she had noticed over the past few months that the same people who had benefited from her kindness hadn’t offer anything in return. They had become comfortable in taking, but unwilling to give.
Chuka asked, leaning forward, “Who’s there to help you?”

Tari shifted uncomfortably. “I’m fine.”
But the truth was, she wasn’t. Her health, once robust and full of life, was starting to fail her. She had been to the doctor just last week, but the doctor had only told her to rest and take it easy.
The next morning, Amara walked into the kitchen to find her mother slumped over the counter, staring at the pile of unpaid bills that had accumulated over the weeks. Her mother hadn’t even noticed her enter.
“Mom, what’s wrong?” Amara asked, her voice full of concern.
Tari blinked, startled, then forced a smile. “Just trying to figure out how to keep everything together.”
Amara glanced at the pile of bills and back at her mother. “Mom, you’ve been pushing yourself too hard. You need to slow down.”
Tari’s smile faltered. “I can’t slow down, my dear. People need me.”
“Not at the expense of your health, Mom. You’ve been ignoring your own needs for so long. It’s okay to take a break.”
Tari felt a pang in her chest. Her daughter was right. She had been so focused on giving, on helping others, that she had forgotten to care for herself. But there was no one she could rely on and she doesn’t know how to turn away from those who relied on her.
“I don’t know how to stop, Amara,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “It’s who I am.”
Amara wrapped her arms around her mother. “I know, Mom. But you need to start thinking about yourself, too. You’ve taught us so much about generosity, but you’ve also taught us that self-care is just as important.”
Tari didn’t respond. She simply let herself lean into her daughter’s embrace.
Question
1. What changes does Tari begin to notice over the past few months?
2. How does Uche respond to his mother’s exhaustion?
3. What does Chuka say to Tari about her kindness?
4. How does Amara feel about her mother’s selflessness?
5. What is Tari’s reaction to Amara’s concerns about her health?