Storymoja

Celebrating East African Writing!

INDEED MY BUNDLE OF JOY by Frank Midega Odero

Pregnancy, the finest gift to humankind from up above. Naturally, many from both sexes would hold outlooks more divergent than the cabinet on the Waki report. Nevertheless, my people say I’m a glass-half-full type of person so I guess that remotely explains my sentiments. Not to be misconstrued, I’m not an optimist. Optimists, I reckon, are folks who naively deny the status quo, and like teenagers, insist white is black and the converse. I, on the contrary, search for prospects where it’s deemed to be none.
I don’t loose my practical sense on the way though and resolutely remain faithful to objectivity. A little biological inflation in times of economic inflation would to my ego stimulate nothing but inflation. Indeed, my ego desperately needs an $720 billion-worth stimulus package. That the embattled American Insurance Group (AIG) resolved against gracing Manchester United jerseys next fiscal year puts my abhorrence for Bush Man at New altitudes. See, I adore pregnancy with such profundity that if in some peculiar twist of fate God were to make pregnancy alternative between my wife and I we’d definitely never have more than one child.
Firstly ‘unless they’re twins’ should be adjoined above; felt too lethargic to cut&copy!
What else would be more wonderful than a situation that allows me to show and give TLC(tender love and care) to the person I love most? Indubitably, the adverse verge of this connective ridge to bliss is revealed if (and undoubtedly when) she decides to capitalize on her situation. Here are the negatives; you’ll have to run errands for her. Perhaps a little bit cooking here and there. In my case that (her) argument won’t hold weight, so on that she’ll wait, even though she holds our weight. See subjecting my kid to my cuisine would be synonymous to crimes against humanity. And as you might have deduced I fancy not a visit to the matrimonial Hague- where mother in law doubles up as chief prosecutor, and remand centre is the couch.
But trust me the positives definitely do transcend the negatives. The feeling of satisfaction and wholeness that accompanies this act of service to your family definitely overwhelms being sent here and there. ‘Coincidentally’ placing the remote next to her will keep her preoccupied with Mexican soaps and shall warrant you liberty to cater for other household needs. So with your army of only the 300(satellite channels), you’ll effortlessly triumph in reducing the nagging.
Pregnancy gives birth to huge responsibilities. That’s how sacred a matter I take human life to be. It’s with that noble deliberation that paternity leave was established. To the brilliant mind(s) that came up with such ingenious and concrete grounds to justify work truancy, I forever to you am indebted. I’m convinced by then, any opportunity to avoid sight of the boss (not Bank of southern Sudan) shall be grabbed like a Zimbabwean billionaire tussling for relief aid. Pardon my brutally morbid humour. And I don’t mean working from home, but the absolute two weeks off the job package. Better still; my resumption to work shall bear bolstered morale having been reminded umpteen times through the two weeks there’s an extra mouth to feed. Mr. Mom! That’s the tag that haunts men who request paternity leave. But the splendor of being Frank (yes, he refers to himself in third person nowadays) is I don’t give a care who says what about me (Hint; that statement is dripping with sarcasm).

Pregnancy is also an opportunity to ensure continuity in the society. Formerly the basic African strategy of getting into a marriage was ‘to get as many children as possible’. But with the prevailing economic situation that would be as wise as seeking investment guidance from Maddoff. Nevertheless having someone to pass the baton to into the uncertain future is always a comforting feeling.

That said, pregnancy controls ladies. Ladies are control freaks, none can attest firmer than our own first Lady, Mrs. Emilio(not Lucy) Kibaki. Mistake not, I love ladies, but then I adore babies. They never come out till they are ready. That a brain which indeed glimpses, hears and possibly perceives no evil is able to control these control freaks and cause them such sleepless nights amazes me. That brain, needless to say, immediately strikes a good chord with me. It’ll cause her erratic hormonal changes that if I may add should remain hormonal. Note the letters interchanged to normal…To have such a petite and muted being, with hands more delicate than its mother’s bosom, and hair reminiscent of Hussein’s, dictate her every move and mood would thrill me to death. And they always handily forget his middle name, which had republicans employed as a major election strategy, Malia and Sasha wouldn’t be out of my league as present…but they weren’t my type either way, and pedophilia doesn’t happen to be one of my psychological disorders, perhaps obsessive compulsive, so I’m game.

Pregnancy is frankly a heavenly biological process, the fruit of our ardour. So you bet I’ll relish and revel in being by the bed side keeping ALL male gynecologists off bay. What I fault in the 21st century delivery is how women get numbed with epidurals and analgesics (both are anesthesia) that erode its naturalistic nature. Pregnancy was meant to be a painful endurance activity; much gratitude to Eve for that by the way. So doing the reverse borders Blasphemy. Amen?
So I earnestly hope the existing global recession’s ripples are felt some … years from now when I’m ready for a Frank Jnr. You know, when the main pharmaceutical establishments will abort production of inessential drugs like such (the anesthesia) to give precedence to imperative stuff, perhaps an AIDS-free world or turning MJ black. But of course I’m no authority on pregnancies hence can’t criticize much but just wait, wait solemnly till my bundle of joy arrives.

If you would like this piece to be the Story of the Week, please vote below on a scale of 1 to 10, with 1 being weak, and 10 being excellent. The numbers will be tallied on Friday and the story with the highest figure shall be Crowned Story of the Week. Be sure to fill in your name and verifiable email. You can include your critique/comment after the vote.

4 comments on “INDEED MY BUNDLE OF JOY by Frank Midega Odero

  1. Oluoch Madiang'
    May 19, 2009

    I want a baby! I want a child! Someone tell me where and how one gets a bundle of joy! Nataka, nataka, natakaaaaa!

  2. 2shortstraw
    May 20, 2009

    orgasmic birth!

  3. Machahi
    May 20, 2009

    Just wondered, does the joy arise from the natural processes through which juniors are made, or from teh baby itself?

    Is there a difference in terms of how the male and female parent regard the parenting resposibility, especially considering the recession?

  4. Frank Midega
    July 5, 2009

    Machahi i like your drift. I believe people draw joy from both the ‘natural processes’ and ofcourse the toddlers too.

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