The Reluctant Indian

My child has the privilege of being a multinational by reason of parentage; South African mother with Gujerati roots and a Mauritian father with Bihari roots. This equates to a melting pot of cultures, customs and languages. On any given day, one will hear English, Afrikaans, Gujerati, Creole and French in my house. And Shabd, in his own astounding manner, has found a way to assimilate all these languages, adapting himself to his given audience.

Shabd has always enjoyed music. Be it strumming the guitar, banging the djembe, blowing into the recorder, fingering the piano or singing the hundred tunes neatly stored in his little head. He seems to have taken the same liking to languages, quickly picking up nuances in pronunciation and accent. He can quite convincingly say, "Sies man!" as if he were a South African. Or look for his father in French, "Papa, ou etes tu?" (Papa, where are you?). Or greet his Ba in Gujerati, "Namaste, kem chor?" (Namaste, how are you?).

As a mother, i'm in awe of his ability to assimilate so many languages having had no formal introduction to them save hearing the languages, some often and others only occasionally. And as a mother, i realise this view might be just ever so slightly biased. This does not diminish from the wonderment of hearing him speak 3 different languages within one 2 minute conversation.

Growing up, i was quite the reluctant Indian myself. My parents, being good and conscientious Gujerati's ensured i went to Gujerati school and hindu Sunday school. We children were forced to attended classical music and dance concerts. I even studied Bharata Natyam for many years. My mother and Chandrika masi (my mother's best friend) always spoke of India with such passion. It was their motherland. I never understood their fascination nor patriotism to India, until now. 

I am a South Africa with Indian heritage living in Mauritius. I have a 2 year old son and i want him to know all about my culture, customs and language. I want him to at the very least be able to dance garba (a traditional Gujerati folk dance), understand basic Gujerati and Afrikaans and be comfortable in a kurta. Most of all, i want him to know that he comes from a rich parentage, full of colours and grace. And that is something to be proud of.

Tempests, Tantrums and Terrorists

I'm going to come right out and say it. No siree, I will not sugar coat this, not even with fat-free sprinkles. A child at the age of two has the power and ability, I might add, to completely and utterly eviscerate a mother. They have no pity. They take no prisoners. Come to think of it, a two year old toddler is very much like the atom bomb that went off in Hiroshima; small and lethal!

One minute, we're all plodding along, Mr.Sunshine beaming down on us, rainbows in the sky when suddenly, boom, out of nowhere the bomb hits! A ginormous mushroom cloud blocks out the sun and the rainbows cease to exist. The rest, a you well know, is history.

Shabd has an uncanny ability, I tend to think it comes from the musical gene he inherited from his father's side of the family, to hit just the right note. Now this is not a lovely, tra la la - Sound of Music -  note. No. It's a high pitched, the world might as well have come to an end note. The type of note that can incite any well meaning and mostly patient mother to pull her hair out in sheer desperation.

Now, there are two things that are in rather short supply in my home at the moment. The first is hair and the second patience during those high note poor me wolf howling's. The end result I'm afraid is TWO toddlers in the room screaming! And by two, I reluctantly refer to the aforementioned well meaning and mostly patient mother.

Fear not though, for help is at hand, in the form of well-meaning advice from the Lunch Mommies. "Ag man, we all lose our temper. He's just testing his boundaries. Don't worry. Don't be so hard on yourself man! Relax. Now the first step is to breathe!" And what follows is a flurry of tit bits of experience and advice. Followed by the all so famous disclaimer all mothers are guilty of employing (yours truly included); each child is different!

I've come home with some easy strategies that I can adopt immediately. And some introspection that is being asked of me. Sometimes, we need to accept that the child is just the child. And an age old spiritual adage comes to mind; "I am that I am."

Shabd, like all children (cancel universal disclaimer here) has an innate predisposition to be happy and joyful and full of giggles and smiles. He will act up. He will display his frustration and anger and annoyance. He might not have the full communication repertoire required to ensure these emotions come across in a manner that is neat and tidy, but tell me this, have you met many adults that can?

And we've come full circle to that introspection bit that I've circumvented almost this whole blog and incidentally most of my conversation with the Lunch Mummies. How to be less toddler-tempest-like and more mummy-gentle-summer-breeze-like in the face of a full blown cyclone.

I have the ability to centre myself. I have the power to create sunshine and rainbows and calm Shabd down. I also have the endurance to last out a storm, God knows I've had plenty of experience in that department. Only I can do this. Only I can choose to act more mummy and less toddler. And at the risk of sounding all Maya Angelou, the choice lies with me.

Being the realist that I am, I've also formulated plan B. So just in case I do am not so good at exercising my will to remain calm and collected in the face of a toddler tantrum, like all muscles I expect this will take some practice, "Who you gonna call? The Lunch Mommies!" cue Ghostbusters theme song here!

Shabd Turns 2!

Papa and I had decided to follow in the footsteps of my parents and ensure a Birthday was truly a memorable and special day for our child. So we went out and bought that ONE BIG GIFT and the new clothes and ordered the birthday cake and sent out the birthday invitation and packed the bags ready to celebrate.

I'm not sure if Shabd or Papa was more excited over Shabd's birthday present, both being music lovers. Both their eyes danced as their hands lightly fingered the keys of the keyboard Shabd received as his birthday present.

The day was off to a TIGGERIFFIC start, whoo hoo hoo hoo!

La Vanille Crocodile Park was the venue for Shabd's 2nd birthday celebrations. His best friend in the whole wide world came along to celebrate with him. The two of them went tearing down the pathways, screaming at the tops of their voices, "Nayshaaaaaaad! Shaaaaaaabd! Waow!"

We marveled at the crocodiles...some more than others!

We were entertained by the monkeys, the furry brown ones that is!

We learnt about fossils and ammonites and dinosaur bones! Thank you chacha Ravi.

We visited the Insectarium and saw weird and wonderful creepy crawlies.

We saw hundreds of colourful butterflies of all sizes and shapes. And imagined they were alive and we were in a field of flowers surrounded by them.


We saw American alligators. And Malagasy crocodiles.

We learnt that turtles and crocodiles can be friends too. And Koi come in a kaleidoscope of colours.

We met Seychellois GIANT tortoises. Shabd was terribly polite, leaned over and said "Good morning Fabrice. How are you?" Well it's only logical that a Seychellois tortoise would have a French name. And being his mothers son, Shabd tried to move Fabrice along!

The restaurant created our own little celebration corner and the boys loved it! They especially enjoyed eating the stars on the cake!

 

And if all this was not enough, we met donkeys and goats and sheep on our way out! Everyone, sing with me, "Baa baa black sheep have you any wool? Yes sir, yes sir, three bags full. One for my master and one for my dame and one for little Shabd who lives on Palma Lane!"

"Thank you for coming to my appity to you" says Shabd!

Lunch Mummies

We almost always meet for lunch, that's why we call ourselves the Lunch Mummies. It's that simple.

I have a small set of friends, mummies themselves, and we meet regularly for lunch to chat, share, complain, cry, laugh, advise and support each other on this journey of motherhood. It's like belonging to a fraternity where we air out all our highs and lows, there are no judgments nor comparisons. There is plenty of encouragement, camaraderie, understanding and have I mentioned no judgments already?

When one sits down at that lunch table, you already have an "A" in motherhood. An "A" for being vulnerable, for being willing to say it like it is, an "A" for showing up, warts and all. And who doesn't want an "A"?

A date with Lunch Mummies is like going to group therapy, with wine! You're reminded that you're not meant to get it all right the first time round. Sometimes, it takes three tries. You're encouraged to have a good ole cry if you need it. You're cautioned to not set up camp on down days and you learn to accept that sometimes you need to ride the dragon. You're reminded that no matter what path you've chosen, you count, you are special!

And there is laughter, lots of it. Laughter at the blonde moments, the oversights, the oopsies and the milking it with the kids and husbands. There is fashion advice, sale notice reminders, patient bedside visits and crafting tips.

Over a milkshake, we talk of our hopes and dreams for ourselves and our children. We share our troubles, our regrets and our misgivings. We talk and talk and talk, jumping from headaches to office politics to potty training to the turquoise purses at Mango.

Having lunch with the Lunch Mummies is like going for a swim in the ocean. The water is warm and welcoming, and one feels refreshed and calm after having had the sea wash away all ones troubles.

Tamatave 2013

Tick Tock My How the Time Has Flown By

Well…tomorrow is the 1^st of July. It feels like this roller-coaster ride had only begun, but in actual fact, half the year has passed already. I cannot remember the date of my diagnosis but I remember sitting under the tree with Akash crying at the utter senselessness of being diagnosed with breast cancer a second time. I remember coming home to my mother and siblings concerned smiles, their respectful silence while we all absorbed this terrible diagnosis, their stoic solidarity.

I was not alone this time around. I was not isolated in a cavern of deprecating loathing. This time around it’s different; I am surrounded by love, family, care, respect, warmth, strength.

 

 

Tomorrow is also 11 days before Shabd’s 2^nd birthday. Truth be told, true to my very nature, I’ve been mulling and stressing as to how we will mark this special day since mid-May. I am slowly and painfully learning that I am that I am. What this philosophical realization means is that I have finally come to accept my true nature instead of denying and trying to change it. I am an excellent igniter of things and terrible at follow-through. I am a perfectionist and have the most untidy cupboard. I am a chronic worrier and a great believer in people. I bounce back amazingly fast from failures, I invented the Tigger bounce! I’m tenacious and don’t give up without a fight, sometimes to my own detriment. But I digress (let me own that quality as well, while we’re on the subject).

Shabd has amazed me these past 6 months. He’s realized that mummy is sick and has to go see the doctor and take medicines. He’s accepted the changes in physical appearance, though he did confuse mummy and papa for a while there. And he’s respectful of giving me space on the days I come home from chemo and need to sleep. On those days, Shabd politely climbs into bed with me so we can cuddle and read a book quietly, as opposed to jumping on the bed singing 5 little monkeys at the top of his voice.

I know this might not sound like a lot, but don’t forget that he’s not yet two years old. Shabd has shown more maturity, compassion, consideration and understanding then some adults I’ve met! I cannot claim credit for these qualities; I do not believe it to be as a result of nurture, but rather of his own gentle nature.

 

Tick tock tick tock, my how the time has flown by! Only 11 days to go, and while I have a few ideas on how we can celebrate Shabd’s birthday, I would love to know what you think we should do.

 

Eureka

Legend has it that Archimedes was so thrilled with his discovery of buoyancy that he immediately hopped out of the bath and ran onto the streets naked shouting 'Eureka!' 'Eureka!”. It is rumoured that had his wife not filled the tub to the brim, this discovery would never have been made. But I digress.

I had my own “Eureka” moment this week. I finally discovered the reason for my recent bout of misplaced aggression, annoyance and impatience; drum roll please….Menopause. Yep! Full-fledged, hot flush and all menopause! Unlike Archimedes, I've resisted the urge to run naked onto the streets yelling at the top of my voice, "Eureka! Eureka! It's menopause!". But the thought did cross my mind.

Imagine my annoyance at myself, it’s the second time I’m experiencing menopause, I should have recognized the symptoms sooner, I should have connected the dots months ago! Chemobrain you will be my own undoing yet! Urgh!!

Having had my light bulb moment was like something in my brain clicking into place, and slowly but surely (like watching a fight scene from The Matrix in super slow mo), the cogs in my brain started turning until eventually the fog lifted.

I realized that I’ve been too full of “I shoulds, I will, I musts” instead of just being; accepting my limitations, embracing me, in all my quirky uniqueness (I’ve discovered that cancer brings out the quirky in many!).

Instead of supporting Shabd during a very difficult time, I’ve been terribly impatient with him. His nounou has gone to Swtizerland to visit her grandchildren; she will be away for 3 months. Shabd has not taken too well to her replacement. He’s absolutely crestfallen at having lost his nounou and has been vacillating between absolute clinginess to mummy (whining come free) and moping in silence all the while lying on the floor.



Shabd and Nounou Lysie

I should have been kind. I should have understood his pain, his hurt, his loss. Instead, I was impatient and annoyed that he was so clingy and not adjusting fast enough to this change. I was angry at myself for not being sensitive enough to his pain especially since I know how much he loves his nounou.

I’m glad I’ve had my “Eureka” moment. Finding the reason for the way I’ve been feeling is not a resolution in itself. It doesn’t diminish the mood swings or hot flushes (and boy are there quite a number of those) – it does allow me freedom to let go though. Freedom, to forgive myself. Freedom, to be kind to myself. Freedom, to say to myself, as Shabd often says to me while gently stroking the top of my bald head, “it’s okay.”



Selfie

I’ve not slammed on the brakes. I’m done with “should haves”. I am that I am. And for now, what I am is menopausal, in all its grisly glory.  Acceptance is the wonder salve to this festering wound of self-berating. It’s amazing how pleasantly different things are once one stops berating oneself.





Ice-cream...without the cream!

Shabd and I spent the morning at Flic-en-Flac on Friday. We had a fantastic morning of playing in the sand, walking on the beach, singing, eating ice-cream and taking selfies. We had a long chat about nounou, how much we both miss her and how it was okay to be sad. Shabd, ever his father’s son was gracious as always with me. For the first time in weeks, when Papa arrived home that night, the atmosphere was jovial and there were wide grins all around. We spent the evening singing and talking, just the three of us.



Sea, Sand, Sun all year round

On Saturday, Shabd and I, along with LK went to visit MM and her family. For the first time in months, Shabd didn’t throw any tantrums, he did not scream or yell or become impatient with me. Instead, he sang along to his CD while in the car for 2 hours it took us to get to MM’s house. He happily ate all his food despite lunch being served an hour late and shared his toys with MM’s sons. Could it be my acceptance of myself that precipitated this positive change in Shabd’s behavior?

The love of my life

On Sunday, Akash and I reconnected over a lunch date at Spur; yep, voted most kid-friendly restaurant on the island by yours truly. So kid-friendly in fact that we go there even on dates. I felt as if I had stepped back in time, savouring the time spent talking and holding hands.



My house is not immaculate. My garden is more veld then garden. Our washing machine has packed up leaving a pile of laundry as high as Mt Kilimanjaro and I’m not always successful at gathering enough energy or will to prepare dinner every night. And it’s okay. The cogs turn slowly as I learn that if I’m okay, everything around me will be okay too. That it’s okay to let go of the “should haves” and just accept things as they are for now. For in time, this too shall pass.

Beekharry Selfie!



"Ah-ppity You You Nayshadh!"

Nayshadh is Shabd's cousin and his best friend in the whole wide world! These two are as thick as thieves. They get together every Sunday from 10h00 to 13h00, and during those hours, these two cousins are inseparable.

As soon as Shabd see's Chacha Ravi driving up our driveway, he yells out excitedly, "Nayshaaaaad!" There is much wiggling and even more screaming as he quickly makes a dash for the door, just in time to collide with Nayshadh running in to meet him.

Nayshadh speaks in French, Shabd in English, yet the two have their own way of communicating and understanding each other perfectly. They each speak a healthy melange of English, French and Creole to each other...which is quite amusing to the casual eavesdropper.

Nayshadh turned 5 last week. Shabd helped ice the blue and purple cupcakes, our humble offering for the Toy Story themed birthday party.

He chattered incessantly repeating over and over again, "Ah-ppity you, you you, Nayshaaad" (Shabdish for Happy Birthday to you Nayshadh) as if to remind us not to forget it was his cousin's big day.

As we've come to learn of Shabd, he stayed true to his character and shyed away from the celebration, choosing instead to stay indoors and colour. He came out only when Nayshadh was free to play soccer with him again, ensuring Nayshadh remained in the spotlight - it was after all Nayshadh's ah-ppity you you!

Nayshadh on his part, proudly showed off the cool watch his papa had given him. And generously shared his brand new Liverpool soccer ball with Shabd.

Excitement shone out his eyes as Nayshadh blew all 5 of his candles in one go! He loved his Hare Rama Hare Krishna McQueen Car cake. He loved the multicoloured balloons that hung everywhere, the Toy Story crockery and polka dot hats everyone happily donned (Job well done Papa!).

Most of all, judging by the size of the smile plastered to his little moon face, I suspect Nayshadh loved having his Papa by his side. To every little boy, their Papa is their superhero.

"Ah-ppity You You Nayshadh!"