Let us now talk of babies

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Let us take a look at babies, now that being a grown up seems to be so blood-drenching. When you are grown, you only miss being a small fat kid, hiding in the mothers’ arms. We all miss lactating from our mommy’s breast.

Who doesn’t give an imaginative thought, trying to remember the taste of breast milk? But it hardly comes around. So what do you do? For me I wish I could do it now, not with my mother, hell no. I would do it with a different mom so courageously. I will easily cow in the face of my mom trying to suck her breasts right now.

Anyway, we all miss being toddlers. Not because it had something big to brag about, no, only that the world was a little bit nicer than now. I mean there was no hustle or hassle, you were tended every second a cry escaped your tiny lips, you were the first priority for everything, and every one wanted to hold you, so fragile. It was such a highly therapeutic moment for us all.

Later we grow into big babies, full of health. We bosom like buds of a flower with age. Then we lose the perfect figures of our childhood, we become rude at adolescence, we dismiss our seniors and open up to the world. This happens so fast, and smoke signs send fire signals to us, that the world out there might be having unique warmth to be sort after.

What do we do? We leave our homes, our parents and join our peers to explore the world, and its pleasures. Every moment is full of one thing or another. But what is even amazing is the fact that finally things tumble, they cave in, and we run for our dear lives. Are we fast enough really?

On the way to paradise something cheeky topples us. You get caught up in a maze that leaves you emotionally paralyzed. Soon you lose your virginity. You suddenly have a loose vagina. It is not the end. The end is always bitter.

If you are a father you might have experienced this. Your wife us due, so you take her to maternity. It is easy these day because delivery is free. You feel like freaking out, and your stomach keeps doing somersaults, and shaking so terribly.

I don’t know why you get scared during such moments. Confusion reigns supremely over you.

For long I haven’t talked of Elsie. She is my queen. The story of untold misery. She is the fruit of my own groins, she defines my manhood in an unexplainable design, she is the reason that I can walk shoulders high; being a father is never easy.

So mama Elsie’s belly is growing huge every morning. I wake up to a mysterious addition of weight, loss of shape and it keeps protruding relentlessly. I really don’t know how it feels to have a huge hanging stomach with you for nine months. That means a lot . You have to adopt a new walking style, you need to balance mind you. So you will be walking around like an old vw (the tortoise thing that the German dictator invented<damn you bloody HITLER>, the thing that has no radiator whatsoever. I wonder how the engine cools man) with doors open.

Being pregnant means become a eating maniac, the stomach opens, stretches out like an anaconda and consumes tonnes of food. Being pregnant means more visits to the clinic. You are handled gently like a baby’s butt. Its just a smorgasbord.

Days fly by so easily. She changes from being moody (the first few months), to being angry (the middle months) and very cool and friendly in the last months. She becomes so friendly to even enemies. She can even wash and clean so perfectly. The holy spirit just engulfs your house, you almost shout “Haleluya.”

As days near, you become excited as a man. You are going to become a father. Isn’t that the sweetest thing to a man? That he is able to bring forth a fruit of his own groins? That he will be respected by other men with no kids? That he will join other daddies in fatherhood and start discussing their babies? Isn’t it sweet?

Unlike these days, you had to prepare your pocket for this big moment. She has been closely following the calendar, counting days. I don’t know how they do that, despite the numerous times she explains it to me. Am I that dumb?

And the day finally strolls by. It is one if the toughest moment of your life.

During that time I never owned even a bicycle, leave alone a wheelbarrow, to ferry her to the labour room. But we did get there.

From here confusion is the only thing that takes control of your system. Look, you have no guts to follow her into the labour room. At the same time you fear that the midwife might insert her thick sausage fingers into your girl’s vagina and interfere with the ph levels, or even expand it so that next time your penis finds nowhere to hang.

Once I step into this clinic (they only specialize in women issues, don’t just imagine, just stop imagining) I discover it is a different world of women. As you would expect, it is full of full stomached women, all trying to get rid of those bellies. All waiting for the moment. I feel odd, thank God other men also are there accompanying their betters halves to get rid of the fetus, in form of babies. That comforts me a little.

But I get puzzled. The loud voices like someone under a scalpel. The cries are very raw and hoarse. Even more puzzling are the curses. And I knew if I were to go in there she will curse me, she will abuse me and my manhood, she will spoil the moment for me. That she will cry like a hungry baby, turn me emotional and we start crying together. So I didn’t go in. I could not stand the harsh nurses, the loud cries that made you think you were the only one not singing a dirge in some funeral, and the frantic paces of up and down by some expectant mothers made me uneasy. They inflicted more pain than anything, praying that she won’t undergo the C-section.

Once she was safely behind doors, I took myself out of the facility. Her sister went in with her. I just had to leave to release the pressure that was mounting in me.

I joined a few friends in a pub and had a few drinks for myself. I didn’t wanna think of any negative possibilities that may happen in that room. They would tear my world down.

We talked of football, women, politics and cars carefully avoiding the baby subject.

Later, after four hours, I sauntered back, sober and ready for good news. It was the happiest moments of my life.

I held her in my hands. I inspected her carefully, looking if she had any of daddy’s features. It is the first thing a man does, you have to ascertain that you are the dad. Her ears, cheeks and forehead, that was enough. I was a father. I needed to celebrate.

It is not easy to raise up a kid. I did the story of raising a kid sometime back. Give it a check to finish on the aftermath this rhapsody.

A toast to all mothers and daddies in the house.

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About Mzangila

Mentor, media consultant, photographer, editor, poet, writer, and counselor.

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3 comments

  1. Elkanah Anyona

    mothers are great. thet are strong. they spread love al around us.

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  3. i like this am happy to tell others i know you in person.my best friend am proud of you keep on friend i can smell from far you are going somewhere

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