A few things about me

Archive for April, 2007

Baby Nik

baby love

He still does that with his hand. Infact I think it was the first thing he did when he was born as if to say,”Oh Lord, life is so hard”

baby love

That chin belongs to his father. The weird thing is that it is all flesh and not a bone! same as his dad.


Sweetiepie sleeps on his tummy! A no-no as far as the health officials here are concerned(due to baby cot death). Thing is, its the only way he will sleep. The first few weeks, I hardly slept because I thought he would die and you know “they” would put me in jail immediately.

Ain’t he a cutie! A chubby cutie! šŸ™‚

Thou shalt be named….

New saga.

So the other day Big Al ,baby and I go to the church which houses the local registry office. We were there to register baby Nik as required by law. Prior to that he was only recognised by his CPR number (like ID number) that is attached to both Big AL’s and my details.

The gentleman was welcoming and kind. Big Al completes the form and hands it over. Then the saga begins.

Fact: I have named my child after my father. His second name is my father’s first name.

The officer then says that there is a problem. The African name does not appear on the Danish names databaseĀ  and we will have to seek permission from the Central Government office incharge of names as to whether we can register that name.

Fact: the Danish government or whoever has a list of all possible Danish names. Both surnames and first/middle names. This database also includes the variation of spellings of a name. For example if you name your child Christine there are only two ways you are allowed to spell it. “Christine or Kristine”.. .. if you start being hot like I was and make a variation likeĀ  “Krystine”… that is not acceptable.

Fact:Ā  you cannot give your child a surname as a first name. Example; Jensen is a common Danish surname. One cannot have that as a first name for your child.

Back to daddy’s name. So I looked at the officer and Big Al and said that daddy’s name stays and will be registered. Then the officer asked for proof that that name belongs in my family and I was like what do you want. He says my birth certificate. I was like my birth certificate does not list my parents.

Fact: I was born in another african country that did not find it important to include the parents names, so my birth certificate has only my details.

The officer then says that he will send the form to the main office and we should wait for an answer as to whether they will accept the names.

I have reached the point whereby nothing in Denmark surprises me very much any more. I was like… whatever, but my son will have his middle name as given and it will be registered…..

My question is, what happens with all the Turks, Asians, and Somalis… does the GovernmentĀ  have a database of “acceptable” names

Just another day in Denmark

Being Mama Nik

The 7th week will roll in on Thursday, 2 days from today. It has been a journey frought with tears, both mine and Niks, learning, and frustration.

The one big lesson I would like to share is this…Zungus just have no clue about breastfeeding. That is my take on it. Mara I was being told to feed him every 2 hours then it was every 3 hours. (my sweets suffers from gas making him semi colic). Then I was not feeding him enough, etc etc. Finally I found a website that said “traditional societies (aka like where I am from) do not have children who are colicky and if they do they measure crying in minutes and not in hours like here.. The babies are also fed on demand and not on a schedule”

That was my light bulb moment, I threw out the schedule and feed Nik when he wants. Truth be told, my kababy only cries kidogo. Don’t get me wrong he will fuss mightly when he has gas, but rarely does it lead to a full scream. I am also learning that he is a little sensitive and likes to be near mum. If he wakes up from sleep and mine is not the first face he sees, he unleashes his scream. He hates his pram, and will only go in when asleep. I have one of those fancy baby carrier things and what I really want is to learn how to carry him in a leso.

The other day I tried and was too scared cause he is still so small. I know how to do the leso on an older child..so today I want to go and buy the baby sling so that we can go out more.

I wanted to post pics of Nik here but they are too big and it is too much work to resize them..I’ll get Big Al to do it for me.

We are loving….

John Legend

John Legend

John Legend

he is a shortie though…. but we are still loving him….. got both his albums and watched his London concert here


Lost in Direct Translation

A trip down memory lane had me laughing almost hysterically to myself.

A few years ago while working in the UK, I was temporarily posted to another office for a some weeks. I walked into the office and was pleasantly surprised to find another African. (I found that in the UK it was very easy to tell the difference between an African and Black Briton.) We exchanged the customary silent nods as I was led to my workstation and settled in. During the course of the morning I learned that she had got the job through and agency and was there only for the week. She was doing some clerical work as far as I remember and we both reported to the same lady.

Anyway, later in the day our boss comes to her and asks her about some boxes that were stacked behind her. (side note: The office was an open plan office and the desk separators were the low kind so basically everyone could see and hear everyone. It housed about 15 people). The conversation went something like this:

Boss: “Maggie, do you know why these boxes are still here, they should have been put away in the stationary cupboard”

Maggie: “Sorry, what did you say” in a heavy west African accent

Boss: pointing at the boxes behind Maggie and speaking louder “These boxes where are they from and why are they still here”

Now everyone’s attention around the office is on Maggie and Boss lady. For some reason I begin squirming in my chair.

Maggie: shaking her head “I don’t know, they found me here”

I almost burst out laughing and that expression has stayed with me since. the look on the boss’ face was priceless.

Here are a few from Uganda. Big Al and I tickle ourselves silly when we think back to the first time we each heard them

“how do u make it” = what’s the time

“where do u put up” = where do u live

“They call me Steve” = My name is Steve

There are more however my memory fails me!

Still here!

To all those who responded to “Siku 20″ post. Many thanks. Some of you told me off gently (that’s how I read it) and some encouraged me. Again many thanks. It was not a good time. I was totally overwhelmed, tired and just frigging frightened by the level of responsibility and loss of MY own time!

Everything is better now. I can honestly say I now know my son and the schedule he is on. Therefore I try to sleep when he sleeps. Get about one and half hours every morning or mid morning. On 5th April he will be exactly 5 weeks old. I look forward to the day when I can join the legion of mums pushing prams in the middle of town i.e. more freedom.

Some good news. I have lost almost all the pregnancy weight save for 2 kilos. A week before he was born, I weighed 92.4 Kgs. My pre-pregnancy weight was 77kgs. So I was freaking out big time. A week after he was born I weighed in at 89Kgs….. I am pleased to bits. Once my 8 weeks are up, I need to start on serious abs and tums workout to get the flat washboard tummy.

For now, I wish thee all a happy easter and will see you when I see you. More pics of baby to follow soon.

On another note, I got this from another forum I read and thought to share it here. Cracked me up kabisa because it is soo true.


You think there is no such thing as bad weather, only bad clothing.

You think it is normal to pick up a girl in a pub, walk her to her bike and ride with her back home.

The first thing you do on entering a bank/post office/pharmacy etc. is to look for the queue number machine.

You accept that you will have to queue to take a queue number.

When a stranger on the street smiles at you, you assume that:
a. he is drunk;
b. he is insane;
c. he is American;
d. he is all of the above.

Silence is fun.

You know that "religious holiday" means "let's get pissed".

You use "Mmmm" as conversation filler.

The word "yes" is an intake of breath.

You have only two facial expressions, smiling or blank

Traditional dinners may not necessarily mean a cooked meal.

You forget how to open canned beer.

Can't remember when to say "please" and "excuse me".

You will leave a pub if you can't find a seat.

Your wardrobe no longer has suits but blue shirts and mustard colored sports jackets and lots of denim.

You don't look twice at businessmen in dark suits wearing white sport socks.

You start to believe that if it weren't for Denmark's efforts, the world would probably collapse pretty soon.

It feels natural to wear sport clothes and a backpack everywhere.

You know the meaning of life has something to do with the word "hyggelig".

You are very surprised when you receive compliments about ANYTHING - including your appearance/clothing! In fact when you do, you find it suspicious and start thinking they might have ulterior motives.

You've completely forgotten what a "date" is - no one ever comes to pick you up and unexpected gifts are VERY unexpected.

You don't think it strange that no one ever comes by to visit without being invited and you never show up at any one's place unannounced either.

You wouldn't dream of coming even 10 minutes early to a party. (Once around the block is always an alternative)

You find yourself lighting candles when you have guests - even if it is brightly sunny outside and 20 degrees.