PIMA Chronicles #12: Best Birth Control Ever!

January 11th, 2012  |  by Veralyn Williams |  Published in Blog, Featured, Fiction Writing  |  1 Comment

Imagine. Its you’re first full day in Sierra Leone. You’re laying pool-side. Sun is all around you. Water is glistening in front of you. Adele is soothing your soul, “We could of had it all…”

And then… “WAAAAHH!!!” A baby decides to not only shatter the moment, but your entire piece of mind.

Now usually, I’d shoot a dirty look to the inconsiderate person that decided to bring a noisy baby to a private pool, on the same day I decided to come to relax– but this baby came with me. Or should I say came with my Aunt, who was part of my entourage. So I’m guilty by association. *Sigh*

Here’s the thing. My entire family decided to come together for a family reunion/vacation. And my Aunt who recently acquired a one-year-old, brought him too. Now I love my little cousin, and I was looking forward to meeting him on this trip, but I soon realized he is NOT the chill-by-the-pool-and-zone-out-kind-of-dude. In fact our 3 weeks together proved that he’s not the sit-ANYWHERE-and-chill-kind-of-dude.

And while the feminist in me screamed: “She (my aunt) deserves a vacation too!”

The child-less girl in her 20′s, that paid almost $2000 for her plane ticket screamed back: She might, but it should have been a vacation away from the crying baby!

I understand childcare is an issue, so I get it. Where she goes. He goes. And lets say its a given that she had to come… (She is family after all)… What responsibility did she (or people who travel with kids in general) have to ensure her child did not impede on the sanity of those around, who are child-less? Or was it my responsibility as a good niece/cousin to snap out of my Adele-trance and help give my aunt a break?

Well lets just say I had many “to help or not to help” moments throughout our time together, and I must say I’ve never been so grateful for my IUD!

As much as I like to travel, before this trip I probably would have done what my aunt did, and bring my baby along. But after seeing her try to handle a constantly crying baby– who was probably just frustrated by the sudden abundance of heat he was experiencing– I know now I need to see the rest of West Africa, the art scene in Berlin, do the holy land tour in Israel, the food tour in Spain, carnival in Trinidad, and ride the trains in Japan before I even consider a baby of my own.

  • Coletina

    Nathan made it to auntie Vee blog hehe xx

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  • photo from Tumblr

    In this beautiful place wondering why it took me so long to come here. As with most things the answer is fear. Being that’s it’s Central America, more specifically the fear of being kidnapped or raped. A fear I can’t help but wonder if my fellow nomad-male-friends think about. Hate that I take comfort in the fact, most rapes are committed by someone you know. Ok. Going to stop thinking about this while on vacation.

  • photo from Tumblr

    How can you be in solidarity with Furguson? Support organizers on the ground: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1sOX4RNO5CPQp4zMUvosoWPNu_fuencZNI1nmCcRuUag/mobilebasic?pli=1&viewopt=127

  • Yes. This is how I feel.

    I often don’t know what to do with my anger. As a person that tries take control of, well, most things. The deep, uncontrollable, painful, bitter, gutting anger I often feel is getting harder and harder to mask. Especially when I don’t have time to plan for it.

    It hits me on my walk home from work,
    or right before I turn on my iPad for late night TV via Netflix,
    or right before I get out the shower.

    Every time I stop and think.

    When I think about the lack of humanity I see reflected back at me, when I look into the eyes of the beat cops, standing at the corner by my house.

    When I run for the bus, get on, find my metro card, sit down, take that exasperated breath and hear “I can’t breath” in my subconscious.

    When I’m trying to remember the first time I realized “protect and serve” did not apply to me, anyone that looks like me, or anyone that would come from me.

    When I thought “who wants to be a black mother” after I watched Fruitville station.

    Or the fact I can’t list them ALL without google.

    Trying to control this… feeling inside me is only making it grow. I’m trying not to let this cancer invade my joy. I feel like I’m disappointing Mama Maya. If self care is an act of political warfare, then at this moment I’m losing, and I don’t know how to change the tide.

    Will keep trying. Tomorrow is another day.

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