Ganzi Isharaza
This is our granddaughter. Her name is Hearty Cutie. She was named so by her mother on the day she became hers. As with our Lord, her conception and birth are nothing short of miraculous. Begotten, not made. One day we were celebrating our daughter’s 6th birthday, the next we were parents of a whole mother of one. The father is currently unknown, undesired and completely irrelevant. We thank God.
Hearty Cutie, as with most babies, is the apple of the mother’s heart. She can do no wrong. But here’s the catch: neither can the mother. It’s the perfect example of what happens when an unstoppable force meets an immovable object.
Take last week for example. Hearty Cutie, as always, escorted her mother to school. She was put in the seat between her mother’s and her uncle’s car seats and a seatbelt fastened for good measure. As a concerned grandfather, I asked if Hearty Cutie shouldn’t have a car seat of her own. I was promptly told she didn’t need one because she was perfectly safe next to her mother. Properly chastised and ready to eat humble pie, I drove everyone off to school. When we got there, I inquired what would happen to my granddaughter, seeing as she wasn’t allowed into school. The mother looked at me, exasperated, as though tired of the dumb questions granddads ask. She then proceeded to instruct me on what would happen:
Under no circumstances was I- or anyone else for that matter- to touch Hearty Cutie. She was to stay safely sat in the car from 9 am till 3 pm when her mother would return from school and feed her. Her Uncle in particular, was warned not to even talk to her. Apparently, he has a tendency to move from talking to carrying his niece “anyhowly” without the mother’s permission.
I asked Hearty Cutie’s mother what to do if my granddaughter got hungry or started to cry. I told her it’s dangerous to leave children in the car unattended. I also reminded her that she herself feared being left in the car alone, even for a few minutes. Hearty Cutie’s mother was impatient.
“Just leave her alone, okay papa?” she said. “Don’t touch her.”
Luckily, the day ended without incident. Hearty Cutie was found alive and well by her mother at 3 pm that afternoon. Here’s the question though: am I at risk of being arrested for child neglect, cruelty or an accomplice to something along those lines? Should I just tell Hearty Cutie’s mother to find her own way of getting to school and/or alternative childcare arrangements? Because nze nga jjajja w’omwana, saagala stress. I already have enough of it from trying to get our son to understand the distinction between giving his niece a high five and amputating her altogether. But that’s a story for another day.
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