Mama Laddi asked me while I was
feeding Alfie (and clearly very quickly becoming besotted with this adorable
little boy – she’s astute!), if I would ‘send him’ for the weekend so they
could rest ‘small small’. What she meant
was, would I babysit him at my house for 48 hours so they can sleep. I said yes.
Of course I said yes!
Friday couldn’t have come sooner
for me, two reasons; the court case and ‘picking’ Alfie. The court case (unsurprisingly) was a wash
out. The Judge had travelled to Accra
for a (what seems like two week) conference so court was adjourned until 19th
October. I couldn’t care less.
Electricity was off at work so I picked up Alfie early, around midday. As soon as I got there Mama Laadi asked if
she should pack the bag! We were gone in
half an hour and on the road home.
Formula, nappies, clothes etc strapped to the back of the moto and Alfie
strapped to the front in a child’s sling far too big for him. I vowed then to learn to back babies the
African way. I have to say, I turned a
few heads on that journey home. A white
woman with a baby is one thing, but carrying it on the front of the body *big shock!*
and what with him covered in a white cloth like a child of Michael Jacksons (to
avoid the sun not the paps) I looked like one hell of a crazy white woman.
It’s been a reality check looking
after a baby in Africa with all its nuances; washing clothes by hand daily,
bathing in a bucket twice daily (it’s the sweat!), sterilizing equipment
(genius idea to bring Milton sterilizing tablets even if I do say so myself…
it’s as if I knew!!), lights out with a baby, spinach surprise as opposed to
chicken korma poo (that involved a quick internet search just to make sure all
was well…), makeshift changing mats, avoiding mosquito’s… the list goes on. The
best reality check? Knowing you are not alone. For ’this is Ghana’. One big
community, friends and close neighbours willingly lending a hand, either
physical or metaphorically to help the crazy white woman (now dubbed Mama
Ellie) with her black baby. Learning how
to back him was an experience and provided much entertainment, wonder and
surprise for my friends and local community.
Backing him is like a sedative for him; as soon as he’s in and snugly,
he’s sparko. Bloody marvellous! It’s all gone surprisingly well really, apart
from my own paranoia and internal dialogue when I wake up suddenly in the
middle of the night... 'Is he still breathing?' *I hold breath and
simultaneously poke Alfie*, [Alfie moves abruptly], *I breathe again* ‘oh,
thank goodness…'
Two days later and some mammoth
sleeps (from Alfie, not me) and I had to ‘send him’ back. Hanana’s compound was super sad to see him
go…Boris however was not. Nose well and
truly out of joint. So much so, he roamed and came back at the end of the
weekend stinking like an open African drain. I backed Alfie to the home, the
African way, which received even more attention than the first moto ride and
managed to let go of him, just, and hand him back to his Laadi family. Mama Laadi spoke of ‘sending him home’ with
me - AKA adoption, and I left safe in the knowledge I’d already thought of that
option… See you on Wednesday Alfie : )
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