| Our Baby's Nationality Unknown |
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| Written by Hakeem Babalola | |||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
| Wednesday, 10 January 2007 | |||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
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My wife (okay, my beautiful wife) had a baby boy, Takeem Tiwadoyin, in
The whole thing remains a memorable experience – and this is the only thing I am sure of. Many parents have testified to the unparallel bundle joy their baby brought to them. Something must be wrong with me because I have mixed feelings. There is no doubt about my great expectation right from the moment I viewed him through ultra sound, and especially when his sweet mother’s tummy becoming more and more protrude. But something I have no idea of, always presented self whenever I wanted to feel total joy like expectant father often does. What is this thing?
We had waited for him so long having lost the first pregnancy. Now the second pregnancy that produced Tiwadoyin was marred by another anxiety at the early stage: her mother had chicken pox, which she caught at a kindergarten she was teaching then. We visited a doctor who did not allay our fear. “It’s dangerous,” he told us point blank.
We then visited a gynecologist who calmed us down after examination. “There’s nothing wrong with the baby,” he countered the first doctor. And so we hoped for the best.
It is joy, pride, even selfishness to see a you growing inside. Even if you feel you have never achieved anything in your life, the emotion of this moment surpasses self. At least one is not a failure in this respect, as if those who cannot create a soul must live not! As if there are not some couples who have determined not to bear a child! As if there are not those who prefer dog or cat to a baby. As if there are not those who feel the same joy and pride in adoption.
Life is changing my dear. One has to be contented with whatever situation we find ourselves. Giving birth to a baby does not automatically makes one a father or mother; one has to earn it. The real parent or even the natural parent is the one who takes responsibility of the child. Or does it augur well to claim “daddyship or mummyship” by proxy?
Fear and pity and guilt are the things. Would I be able to give this innocent soul the best a father should? What becomes of my baby in this era where the strong pummel the weak? How would he survive his peers’ hanky-panky, incorrigible; even brutal behaviour? Is he going to be proud being Nigerian/African when he grows up? How would he balance Western culture with African culture? How would I make him realise the need to speak at least one of Nigerian numerous languages? How would I explain to him why his daddy’s continent is lacking behind? How would I teach him to deal with disgruntled elements who might call him nigger; or those who might provoke him for nothing? Would I be able to mould him a man as his grand father made me?
I don’t know but I’d train him never to start a fight; he must be clever, brilliant and knows how to talk otherwise his contemporary would ride him. As a teacher dealing with kids, teenagers and young adults, I have seen it all – the devilish minds of the youth; yet I still don’t know the best technique to mould a child or even a student – there’s none.
The above thought occupied my mind as I went for his birth certificate where I learnt that our child was “Stateless”. The Extract from the Registry of Births certificate states inter alia: Az apa és anya Nigéria állampolgára, a gyermek állampolgársága ismeretlen. (The father and mother are Nigerians but the child’s Nationality is unknown). To say that I was mad was simply understatement. In fact, it was that day I knew I was a normal person, for I would certainly have “killed” somebody. I simply detest the word unknown. “Our child’s Nationality unknown?” I gulped, and I remained agape.
Then the officer explained the procedure. I must go to my embassy to collect a certified document stating that “the” child is a Nigerian. Until then "the" child status shall remain stateless – at least as Hungarian government is concerned.
The thought of going to my embassy collapsed my lung. “Oh, not Nigerian embassy,” I said to my self. I stared at the woman; in fact, my face was actually begging, “Please don’t send me to Nigerian embassy…don’t send me to my embassy for any document.” Even I almost lied that
I mean this is official and this is part of the embassy’s job: to take care of things like this. So why the cynicism? Even though I knew the present Nigerian consular, a woman whose heart is dominated by Christian virtues, would take care of the case, I still felt reluctant about asking such thing from my embassy. Why? Help me please.
And skepticism and intense anger aroused a thought – of the D-Day.
It was that memorable evening. We had just arrived from Home Office where we had been to collect my wife’s temporary residence permit when she started behaving funny. And I kept kidding her until it dawned on me it was that thing they call labour. My wife would roll on the floor, get up and roll and get up and roll. Then she started muttering. If knew back then what I know now…
On our way to the hospital I still didn’t grab the fact that I’d soon be a father. It was not until the doctor on duty asked for her stuff, which we didn’t even take with us. “She would soon have a baby,” Dr. Gal said.
Baby?...Really?...How? I should have considered myself stupid as I ran back home which is ten minutes away from the hospital. Is there going to be a baby? How is the baby going to look like? I hope it's going to be as easy as ABD. A baby? My baby? Our baby? Today?...
Labour pain is another thing I detest. I wish I know how to make you picture the pain. For me, it’s imperfect of whoever designed the process of bringing a soul to this world in this manner. Having witnessed this extreme mental distress, if my wife decided not to have a second child, I would certainly agree with her in spite of oppositions from different angles – and there would be many!
As soon as she delivered the baby, the first thing on her lip surprised me. “I wish Ayo too would soon experience this pain,” she prayed in a commanding voice but would not remember ever said anything like that. Ayo is her cousin sister married 6 years ago, and still without child.
“And Soul Sister too... let her experience this painjoy.” I also muttered, not knowing how her name flashed into my mind. I had read one of her postings where she talked about adoption.
Anyway, our child has just been issued with another birth certificate from Birth Registry office confirming him a Nigerian after waiting for more than a month. It reads: A gyermek, az apa és anya nigériaí állampolgár (The child, the father and the mother Nigerian citizens). Thank God… Praise Her…
But it was all formality because the same government that declared our child “stateless” had been paying him monthly benefit since his first day on earth. According to Hungarian law, our child automatically has permanent resident status, which qualifies him for certain benefits. Yet his Nationality was unknown for more than a month. This aspect is interesting as well as confusing.
Finally, on behalf of my wife and child, I thank those who came to dine with us on his forty day get-together party. Thanks a lot. @ 2007
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Posted by Robot| 10.01.2007 14:16