ABOUT BEING A MOTHER, 7 THINGS I WANT MY DAUGHTER TO KNOW

God  above everything

I am not being old fashioned here daughter, but God is above everything. He is omnipresent (everywhere), omnipotent (all powerful), the omniscient (all knowing). Read your bible as often as you can. There is this solace you find while reading the bible. A feeling of tranquility, peace of mind, completeness, accomplishment. Name them. Let's take this example;

 Ephesians Chapter 6:1-4, my all-time favorite scripture, Children, obey your parents in the Lord: for it is right. Honour thy father and mother; (which is the first commandment with a promise;) That it may be well with thee, and thou mayest live long on earth. 

Did you see it right there, God is assuring little children who obey their parents that not only will their lives be well, but also they will live long. (Longer than Methuselah?)

Being a first born comes with responsibility

Being a first born is not going to be a walk in the park. A lot is expected from you. Knowing that your younger siblings or cousins are looking up to you for advice, as a role model, a teacher, an elder sister is a monumental task. Taking risks, making decisions is going to be your day-to-day activity. You are going to give up your last piece of meat simply because your younger sister or brother wants to have it to himself. Myself, I am the second born in a family of five, a sister and three brothers.

Having a beautiful heart exceeds just the mere physical appearance

Nowadays, the world is so dynamic. Long gone are the days when people valued the inner beauty. Now, it is the outer beauty that sells. Beautiful cover models grace the fashion and beauty magazines with a 22 inch waist., make-up on all their faces screaming HOT, it is not wrong. But the small details matter. Have a beautiful heart, it will help you and the people around you. Be different. Be you. Be Shuneta.

Passing tests is not a guarantee for a brighter future

You are prone to do a lot of examinations. The 8-4-4 compulsory system shouldn't determine your how clever you are. In a test, a teacher might ask questions that you did mot read for and leave out the ones you had sufficiently prepared for. Do not feel that you have insufficient brains. No! Be innovative. Be creative. Creativity has no limits and you will surely make it.

Be happy, love yourself, have friends

Being anti-social will ruin you and even end up getting ulcers. It is a good thing to have friends. Friends that influence you positively. Both boys and girls your age. The silly talks, the friendly hugs, the emotional tears, the road trips, love, break-ups, the gifts, the birthdays, oh my! it is endless. Enjoy with friends, have fun in the leisure park, walk around, go to the animal park, the French fries. All these, do them with moderation. Life is sweet, sometimes it is sour.

Discover your talent at an early age

As you grow, your mama will always be your side. Always making you differentiate good from bad. Trust me I will make the best out of you. Wait till you start talking. And walking of course. Oh! Reading. And when you find out Mama was blogging about you ever since. That sweet feeling. Awwww.

Being humble is key

Humility will take you places. Be humble.

A LETTER TO MY HOUSE HELP

Dear learned Kelly,

I hope this finds you well. Right now I am so furiously mad.  How can you just leave like that? When you know I will have a couple of problems to deal with. It is not even the end of the month. You did not psychologically prepare me.

Flash back to last month, Tuesday 18th evening. The day you came to help me stay with the baby as I go to work. I know I was desperate to find a person to babysit my Darling Daughter. I took you in with your condition, remember you are in your first trimester.

I vividly remember that evening how I rushed to pick you up from the stage in the company of my sister-in-law. That was fast. Upon arrival, I made you tea and served it with bread. I remember that 100 bob was my last note after spending some good amount looking for someone to sit in for me. I noted the hunger you had (that of a heavily pregnant woman) and you swallowed enormous sips of tea.

All along our rapport had been well until I was told by my hubby that Kelly (not her real name) wanted to leave. Reason, she was being overworked. Wait a minute. Did you wash my clothes? No. Did I send you shopping? No. All you did was babysitting and washing her clothes. As our chats got lively back then you used to tell me that you intended to stay with me as long as I wanted. Foolish me I did not read your lips. Couldn't you just slip a note through my bedroom door to inform you that your stay would come to an end any time soon.

But, just to let you know, I had a lot plans for you and your unborn baby. I even thought of throwing you a baby shower to help you and your kiddo but you acted too fast. Remember every morning I woke up at 5 am, only to prepare baby porridge so as to give you easy time while the baby wakes up. I went an extra mile many times. You didn't see. All you saw was overworking. Okay, you have your rights as a woman and as an individual.

One thing I must laud you is that you kept your pregnancy despite the circumstance you faced. You were all glitter and glamour, a pint-sized model, a P1 professeur (teacher).

The argument that ensued my house on a Sunday afternoon of you not wanting to spend another second in that house is still vivid on my mind. I just looked at you. Since I couldn't argue back, I could be a fool to do so. I never argue with pregnant women. I was there once and I know how it feels when one counters your argument. You are now gone. I always have solutions to my problems. Quick ones and snap another one is en-route.


You didn't allow me to say thanks. I can imagine the one month you've helped me and my daughter, helping where you can. Without you, who could? Thanks a bunch. I appreciate. Ero kamano. I also thank your ex (my bro-in-law) who brought you in to assist me. I salute you (Omondi). I will miss the days you chanted this glorious song with a mellow voice to my daughter the 'Good morning, good morning,(sic) I love you, good morning, I miss you, good morning', even during the afternoon. A good morning song. (Giggles). It really melted my heart.



Yours,

Boss.

OF EXPECTATIONS THAT TURN TO DISAPPOINT

I have always yearned for that one photo that I will take her while smiling. With either the lower or upper incisors out. That one photo. I know the wait will be worth.


I had a dream; I dreamt that Shun had a tooth. It was neither the upper incisor nor the lower incisor. It was a lower canine. Only one tooth. I was happy.

I hurriedly woke up in the morning as usual, cooked her porridge and go back to check on her, she is fast asleep. I wait longer, she does not wake up. I start dusting the sitting room, putting the house in order, drawing curtains, disinfecting baby's toys before she wakes up. Two hours, waiting yet she isn't up. I want to see if she has a tooth.

Now I start washing her nappies and clothes. She is not snoring as usual. When I get into the room, she is just resting as usual. I assume and continue with laundry. Soon, I have emptied the laundry basket. I pour a portion of porridge from a thermos flask into a cup to cool because by now I know in the next thirty minutes; she will be up angry and hungry, throwing up her legs in the air.


I check my phone it is almost 10 a.m. Ooops! I have a message. It is Safaricom again. Your Daily Internet Bundle is almost finished. It is a soft way that Safaricom has found to tell it's subscribers that their bundle balance is over. Meaning it is 0 MB. Kitambo they used to warn us when it is below 2 MB. Kumbe I left data ON. Haidhuru. There are like 900+unread Whatsapp messages, mostly are from a group that was recently created. A comrade has fallen. I knew her right from primary school, when we were roughly 9-14 years, at St Andrew Kagggwa Girls, Nyansiongo,  a school I must admit moulded us to what we are now. We loved the canes (pun intended). Dorothy, was a lively girl, it is evident from her photos, a girl of style I must say. Rest in Peace.

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Mama Seth is my long-time friend. Way before she got married. She had this enviable figure before pregnancy and childbirth messed it up. By this time I am living in Eastlands, Umoja Innercore. Holla Umoinner Buses, You Rock. It is around 5 pm, she walks in my room with my all-time girlfriend, Awuor, it is a bedsitter, not so together, from the entrance of the door, there is baby's basin with unwashed clothes, on the bed are scattered baby shawls, the sink is full of last night's utensils, the carpet is dirty, Umoja's dust is no joke. I am so happy; I can't wait to break good news to Maureen (Mama Jay). My baby has teeth. She is only three months. Kweli girls grow faster. Before then, I have sent a text message to Mama Jay (Botswana) that Shun is growing teeth. We are happy, she told me Jay has teeth too but not the usual incisors or canines. We studied with Mama Jay in High School.

Plastic teeth

Plastic tooth, Photo Courtesy

As soon as I told Mama Seth that Shun was growing teeth, and asked her to observe her dental formula, I read the disappointment on her face. Conso (this is Shun's name too, her grandma's name-full name Consolata) ako na meno ya plastic. I have been reading on plastic teeth, and it never occurred to me like my Conso atakuwa na meno ya plastic. Quickly, she suggests that hiyo meno inakuwanga mbaya, inafanya mtoto ahare, anakosa appetite, saa zingine watoto hukufa, hiyo kitu ni mbaya sana. Nakwambia Seth wangu pia aligrow hiyo meno, aki alikuwa anamiss breaths saa zingine. God, why me. This time I had no elderly person to talk to. Ilibaki tu nijipange.

I immediately text Mama Jay (Kenya) that Conso has plastic teeth. The tone in her message is that of pity. She advises me take her to hospital, a public hospital. She narrates the process of extracting that plastic tooth as ruthless. She even gives me an example of her friend, who tried extracting her baby's plastic teeth traditionally, the baby now is a flying angel. Rest in Peace. He only lived two weeks. He died of excessive bleeding.

Mama Seth tells me to jipanga that she knows a mother who stays at Okongo, Makongeni. The mother in question is known to extract plastic teeth traditionally. Ati zinaisha kabisa, hazitakusumbua tena. Sasa atamea meno vizuri hata hatakusumbua tena.

Mama Seth: Si anakusumbuanga sometimes usiku, ulisema jana hajalala kabisa ni kukusumbua tu.

Me: Eeeh, aki Mama Seth ukweli, but mimi sioni hii meno kama ni bother.

Mama Seth: Mimi najua, wewe jipange then twende Okongo Conso asaidike uwache stress.

To be Continued

HOUSE HELPS, THE HUSTLE AND BUSTLE

Episode 1 - Mboch Diaries

Looking for a househelp is hectic, it is cumbersome, frustrating, effortless and even heart-breaking.

Nowadays, thanks to technology and a new era, after completing basic 8-4-4 education, one enrolls for computer classes while others prefer both computer and driving classses. Myself, I did only computer after completing form four. Driving baadaye.

Si I wake up as usual, then find a missed call from my baby daddy. He is working outside town and tells me to start looking for a mboch (Househelp). I lengesha the storo saying it is still early. After a week is when I gundua, Ghai, am almost going back to work na sina mboch. I start making calls, I ask madhee if she can get me someone to chill with my baby during the day, she gives me a number of a neighbour's daughter who has completed fourth form. We talk with the girl and she agrees to come. Two days later her phone goes incognito and the storo dies like that.

As I head to the groceries, I meet a crertain kamboch kamshamba kwa stairs, she looks so hardworking. I task her to look for me a househelp. In the evening she says that she has gotten someone. I  shuka downstairs from fourth floor to buy credo only to call and she is mteja. God, Why Me? I lament.

The following day, the same mboch who I tasked to look for me a househelp knocks at my door. This time she says that amepata mtu. ''Huyu msichana tunaongelelea tulisoma naye primary school, but mimi nilitransfer, so hatukumaliza na yeye, but yeye ni mzuri hakuji kukusumbua sumbua kama wengine, she said. Sasa shida ni ati hana fare ya kumtoa Western akuje Nairobi. So I mpesa that girl and the following evening she tells me amepanda Mbukinya, so I should chill her in the morning at Country Bus kwa sababu hiyo ndiyo stage ya Mbukinya. Deal sealed.

LOVE IS GROWING

Chilling with Shun after work

I normally leave work at 3 p.m. Starting 2.30 p.m, I am itching to shut down my computer so as to catch up with the nearest bus to go see my munchkin. I am not planning to stop anywhere, my first stop should be at home. I do not want to waste even a single second. At 2.55 p.m, I am closing tabs, the Mozilla Firefox tab, Internet Explorer, since I am working on Chrome, I leave it open. I am carefully closing Microsoft Word and Excel Sheets that I have been working on from 7 a.m.

As it clocks 2.59 p.m., my computer is shutting down. I dandia a Citi Hoppa Bus that takes me to my destination where I dandia another matatu. I want to fly and see her. How has she been? Has she been wailing the whole day? Was she given water after eating food? She constipated the other day and it was hell. She cried before she pooped, not so soft poop. Did she wake up because I left her sleeping in the morning?


I arrive at home precisely 4 p.m. The house is upside down, moreso the kitchen, let alone baby's dirty nappies. But first things first, I breast feed her for 45 minutes, give her a 10 minute break then we embark on playing. Our play involves, humming, clapping hide-and-seek. We then catch up with the 4.30 p.m sunset. Our love is growing.

So I fetch water and continue washing her nappies and tidying up the house as she moves with the help of her walker. She is moving so fast so I have to be careful, she might fall downstairs, God Forbid! By now she already knows me, she can smell me meters away. Soon it is clocking 6 p.m. Time to start preparing her food. I peel a good portion of butternut, carrots and white Irish potatoes. It is slowly cooking. In 25 minutes time, it is ready.

SIX MONTHS BREASTFEEDING EXCLUSIVELY

Three months compulsory maternity leave is slowly fading. Months have gone down to weeks, weeks to days. I am starting to get nervous, questions are piling up on my mind, Nitaachia nani mtoto wangu?(Who will I entrust my baby with?) Atakula nini? (What will she eat?) Sina mboch! (I do not have a house help) Will daycare accept my baby? She is still too young? Mungu Wangu!(My God).


So I have been exclusively breastfeeding my DD, (Darling Daughter), since birth. Reality has come knocking that I have two weeks remaining to report to work. Most of the times I used to be on the Internet and always googling on how to better my parenting skills through other parents' experiences. Then, I find a way to still give the baby breast milk while away on my official duties. It was simple. Expressing breast milk.

Photo Courtesy, Breast Pump

That same week, I, baby daddy, and DD, went to Nairobi's Biashara Street, (known for selling baby items, ranging from diapers to clothing to toys, name it, they have it) and purchased a manual breast pump and other baby necessities. In the evening I tried pumping and not even 10 ml came out. I was devastated. I thought I would pump at least 180 ml. So that night passed. The following day came. I needed a refrigerator. By that time, the cheapest one is around KES15,000. Where can I get such a huge amount of money at once. Nilikuwa nimesahau, ni mimi napata chama this round. But on the other hand, I have my baby in mind, luckily I manoeuvre and get that cash. #BabyTings.

The evening before I go to job, I haven't expressed enough for DD. So, I rush to the supermarket and get Nan, powdered milk meant for babies. By now, I am satisfied that when I am away, DD will be fine, she will only be missing me, the smell of my stained breast milk clothes.

THE BUMP

The Bump. My belly is slowly gaining weight. At about three to six months, it isn’t easily noticeable unless you give it a second look. I am so ready for it. I have close to five trench coats. Dress tops come in handy and tights too. I am very much afraid of questions from random people. How do you feel in there? Did you plan for it? Are you married? Where is your boyfriend? Were you raped?(A classmate, asked me so, I must say that I felt so disgusted) Why didn't you use protection?

Sometimes, some people go an extra mile to touch your belly. They even joke that the baby you are carrying will look like them. As if they look any good. So by now I no longer wear heels. I have stuck to my old school rubbers and maasai sandals, sometimes flat shoes but they irritate me a lot and makes my feet sweaty and swollen at times.

Long queues at the bus station are a story of the past. Nowadays, conductors are so much friendly with me. They joke that I am carrying one vote for Raila Odinga, which I bet would become a fulfilment at 2033 when Shun will be 18. Impossible... Raila will be 88. This might be possible, Zimbabwe’s Robert Mugabe is a sitting President and is 91 years. I don’t even know why am getting political.

 At the swimming pool, roughly 25 weeks pregnant

I must admit that Shun gave me the best time as a young mum. Every moment that she rested calm in my womb, kicked me out of anger or joy, I treasured them. 

I DON'T KNOW WHAT IT IS, LET'S SAY IT'S GOD

At times I get scared

Caring for a young one can be a monumental task, she cries, then you are left guessing, first if she is heavily dressed, you start taking off her clothes one by one only to realize she is raising her voice twice.

It is roughly an hour past midnight, the noisy neighbours have all turned off their music systems, Umoinner Buses are retiring to garages, some already I guess have been parked in Petrol Stations. Bars in the estate are fast in the mood. The Dj is playing Madilu System's Ya Jean.  It is Friday night. I am still on my maternity leave. Home alone.

Shun at three months and some days

Let us call my baby Shun, a short form for her name Shuneta. Shun continues crying. This time throwing her legs on the air. I light up the room and reach for Bonnisan. Bonnisan is a type of syrup given to babies to relieve gastrointestinal disorders i.e colic and gas. I measure 2.5 ml with my left hand while holding her with my right arm. I chant a song by Cedarmont kids, We are going to the mansion on a happy day express, the letters on the engine are J-E-S-U-S, it does not sink into her.

The tussle

Shun is a hater of medicine. She never wants even the smell of it. So I force it into her mouth and she vomits all of it. I believe and pray that the small amount that got into her stomach relieves whatever is aching her. Finally, I discover that all she wanted was a diaper change. It was soaked. For a whole 3 hours we have been tussling only to find out she only needed a diaper change. If only children spoke! God, why?