Jennifer Barassa ‘Bidanya-nothing better’
Motherhood is tough, challenging, complicated, yet so effortless, satisfying and rewarding—again in a convoluted sense. Jennifer Barassa (Now 56) gives Brenda Wangwe a recap.
Apart from yearning for simsim, peanuts and fruits, abhorring petrol fumes and wishing that the then classy Lux soap and Lady Gay lotion would diffuse into thin air, my pregnancy was easy because I was sporty.
My baby came a day later than my EDD, which took me on a cruise of apprehension. Could something have gone wrong? Towards the end of the next day, around midnight my misgivings were settled by the first nudge of labour. The eager cooperative me went ahead and instigated the process. I had been told that dancing accelerated labour. So I put a Mangelepa record and danced away to 4am when real labour struck. I tried to remain calm till daylight to avoid jerking people out of their well deserved beauty sleep. But by 6am I could not hold it any longer. This saw me banging on the neighbour’s door and panting out my predicament.
At Mater hospital, I worked hard to keep my composure. There had been the talk that Luhya women always howled, bawled and wailed in the labour wards. So with every pang that roused my desire to expend my Luhya traits, I made every effort to remain dignified: groping at the bed’s edge here, at the curtain there, until the spasm dissipated—all in an effort to discount the stereotype. Haha. Nowadays I wonder whether the dignity was necessary.
Anyway, an episiotomy made it easier and my baby girl showed up at 10.15am after four pushes. The cry was the most beautiful sound ever. Then just holding the little pretty breathing being was a piece of heaven. I bet she is one of the reasons there is Valentine’s. I named her Bidanya after my paternal grandma.
Well, this auspicious time was quickly followed by terrible tummy cramps. Then, the myth was that one needed to take some Guinness for them to subside. I imagine of the way I would have gulped it down in desperation. But l thank God for the team around me. They took care of it professionally.
And before I could continue drooling at the most AWESOME little face, I sunk into a depression. My head swam in questions of how my new life was going to be. My baby and my studies, my baby with my partner who I was not married to, my baby with my dreams among other impediments that stood in the way. For some reason, there was totally no energy to decipher all these questions, leaving me very helpless—not to mention my recuperating frame, the wound I had to douse with salty water, and the happy front I had to wear for my visitors regardless. I really needed to cry.
Bidanya’s dad seemed to take a note of this and asked I stay in hospital for a week until I stabilised emotionally and socially. True to his request, by the end of the week the heavy feeling had lifted, we were coasting home and I was soon shopping for Lux and Lady gay in dozens.
For Bidanya and I, things could only get better. We were friends from the word go. God had answered my reveries. Back to when I was at Kenyatta University I used to admire a beautiful student from Ngara Girls, on my way to college. As I was appreciating the beauty that encased this tiny girl I’d pray. God, make my daughter this pretty and TALLER for that matter. So when our visitors kept saying. “Hey,your baby will be a tall girl, look at these long limbs!” I would dismiss them with the ‘there-are-more-important-things’ kind of attitude. But how quietly I hoped they were right! And I dreamt on: that she’d go to the best schools, do exceptional extracurricular activities like horse-riding and ballet dancing. I prayed she would have a stupendous relationship with God and that she’d be a woman of character and integrity in both word and deed.
Bidanya is a product of my faith and guiding. Her holidays were marred with chores. By 12, she could make you a six course meal— of course with surveillance. When she came home crying, I would throw her back out there to tackle her own battles. She has had the diligence of going through school without any elements of truancy—through United States International University (USIU) Nairobi and Pepperdine University in California where she did her masters in Marketing. She is now The Marketing Manager at Tetra Pak, after her 5‘ II structure has strutted the runways picking international accolades. Bidanya interacts with the Bible more than I do and sure is 10 times a better cook than I am. With all these strong points that can easily make one condescending in one way or another. Bidanya has NEVER talked back at me. What more can a mother ask for? Maybe a little chopping off of the independence she has so thoroughly adorned, because sometimes I really miss her!
As for Bidanya’s dad, I had to resign to the fate that we could not take our relationship to another level.
We parted ways due to our major differences. I decided to take the plough into my own hands, take care of my baby solely, and continued toiling to become the leading lady I always wanted be.
I was the first African woman to teach at Lenana High School and the first African Sales’ Representative at Kodak thereafter. I happened to be Business Development Manager at Johnson’s & Johnson’s, later on the Country Manager of GSK Tanzania, followed by being the Group Account Director of McCann&Erickson. Having helped other people carry their visions. I finally tumbled into my long awaited vocation entrepreneurship. I began Top Image in 1995. I was awarded the Top Leading Lady Entrepreneur by Nation Newspapers and KPMG’s survey in 2008. The same survey ranked Top Image 10th in Kenya’s Top 100 Medium size companies. My vision is now to venture outside Kenya starting with Uganda and then Tanzania.
To make it clear. I have not traded companionship for a career. I LOVE marriage. It just so happens that I simply have not been found by that gentleman who compliments my dare-devil entrepreneurial flare. And my current fervent and earnest prayer is that my Bidanya marries a gentleman who will do nothing but continue bringing the best out of her, including seeing her through the joys of motherhood.
Word for the young and expectant
Alcohol and smoking should have been ruled out of your life as we are discussing. You no longer have a choice but to attend prenatal care, eat right, exercise and plan PI AN plan for your baby. Work towards getting yourself deliver in a hospital equipped with qualified personnel. Project and save—not just for the months around the corner, but for the next 20. 30 years. I always saved 10 per cent of my salary—for my baby. Well, there are a few instances that I have breached my contract and taken some of that money into my business, but I promise to return.
Know that the minute you fall expectant you are not your own. but your baby’s. Five o’clock should not have you calling your girls asking where the drink is going to be. As much as possible, it should see you in the matatu destined nowhere else but your house. If you have a child who keeps throwing tantrums, you may need to check the quality and quantity of time you give them.
Note that your child deserves your respect and is marking every of your moves with non-erasable ink. Be that woman you want her to be in future. Then all she will need to do is step into your rhythm—not fumble her way through ignorance, or operate against the wanting current you established.
Generally I am this happy woman who makes a point of getting down with her staff every end of year; the staff that understands that I shout out my mind when need requires but five minutes later, there will be no trace of a grudge in my system. I find a lot of joy in meeting organisations’ needs and making money in the process.
What am I doing this Valentine’s?
Like the past years. I will be draped in red though working away. Indicators tell that my number one Valentines is likely to be in absentia. It will still be good for both of us, either way.
END: PG19/16-19