Where is your Bay-bee?

Today I spent the morning working in the Medical Clinic at the High Commission. I’ve been doing it for the past 2 weeks for 2 days a week. It’s a chance to feel like a normal adult again for 4 hours because I take my daughter up the compound hill to her surrogate Nanna, Nanna Kaye. I miss my daughter incredibly while I am gone  but realise it is only temporary as my job is only a fill in position while the other nurse takes a break.

On my way home today I dropped into the shops to grab a few items- groceries, internet recharge card and vino. All 3 items/categories listed are bought from 3 different vendors within the supermarket… go figure!

First I went to the recharge card vendor who, when I walked up to the counter greeted me with, ‘Hello! Where is your baby?’ I was thrown to say the least because I was dressed in my work clothes and, in my opinion, looked very different to when I wear my baby on my front and assume the defensive position as I shop.

The defensive position is required as I often have random hands reaching for my ‘Nice, bay-bee’ in an attempt to pinch her cheeks. My hands begin slamming karate chop-like actions left, right, and centre as I say, ‘No nice baby! Don’t touch her!’ haha! To me, I am a different person and not recognisable so you can imagine my surprise that I was recognised as the lady with the ‘Nice Bay-bee.’

Afterwards I bought my groceries and then went into the alcohol section to purchase my alcohol. Now I very rarely buy alcohol and can only remember being in the shop 2 times previously. As I am putting in my pin number to pay, the girl say, ‘Where is your bay-bee?’ At this point I am really flawed! I say back in amazement, ‘With her… her grandma.’ She replied, ‘Oh that’s nice. Is it a boy or girl?’

This brings me to my next point… the locals seem to never be able to pick if BG is a boy or girl! It doesn’t matter if I have a hair clip in her hair or even if she is clearly wearing a dress, skirt or even pink. They will still ask me. For months I couldn’t work out why and wondered… do we all look the same to them?

A few months back I was in a pharmacy where there was a little baby with its older brother and sister. They were following me around because they wanted the babies to interact with each other. Their baby was dressed in pink, wore jewellry and had beautiful big brown eyes. On all accounts it was fair to assume it was a girl… at least in my culture it would be. Obviously I was wrong and struggled to hide my brain fart when they told me his name was ‘Henry.’ No wonder why everyone is confused!

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