The one with external plumbing!

And so it was revealed that the forthcoming addition to the Viriri family would have - as a dear family friend and would-be 'other mother' superbly put it - external plumbing. Now truth be told, both of us had, for some unfathomable reason, anticipated having a girl, perhaps in my case more of a feeble and perhaps inconsequential rebellion against society's perceived bias towards boys. As to prove this, most kind folks who have congratulated us seem to be doing so not merely because we’re expecting a baby, but rather that it is a BOY! Oh boy, oh boy!!!

Anyway, when we found out it was a boy we were delighted and emerged from the room semi-trance-like, looking as if we had been informed that were going to have quintuplets or . I think for us, being told the sex of the baby swiftly moved us on from wondering about some physical and miraculous manifestation setting up shop within HGS into a human being that we could now start giving names, nicknames and drawing up his CV. Up until then, the notion of a baby would have been merely an abstract one for me, albeit still very exciting and much anticipated, of course.

As we were heading home, an hour or so later, flights of fancy began taking hold, and there I was already charting his career path (as his future manager and agent, of course) either plays rugby for Ireland or captaining Liverpool, of course. Or as the whiz kid who invents the next Google, ipod or the rocket to Venus. Or when he should start dating, when I will have the birds and bees talk with him (Good grief, parental euphemisms already?). As you do!

And so our new journey continues...

Daddy-O!

The amazing and remarkable person that she is, Her Gorgeous Self (HGS) aka my darling wife, gave me by far the best ever birthday present. With her usual inimitable grace, perfect timing and style she ‘informed’ me that we were in a family way (have always wanted to use that euphemism). Now, as you can no doubt agree, it is not mere hyperbole on my part in stating that I was mightily chuffed – it was as if Liverpool had won the Premiership and Champions League a dozen times over. It is remarkable, that even though (without going into too much detail) this would be the most deliberately planned for baby, the surprise factor was still there and I felt more elated than I have been about anything.

Fast forward three months to yesterday and here we were in one of the country's big maternity hospitals waiting for the first scan and to cut a long story short and thus spare you a long whinge about 'third world health' service in an allegedly 'first world' country, I will go straight to the good news that our little bundle of joy (gender still unconfirmed) was as healthy as any 16 weeks-from-conception being can be. The good doctor informed us more than once, for good measure, that he could detect a robust heartbeat! Being new to this, I was not sure what clever questions to ask the good doctor, whether it was appropriate for me to ask if that little macadamia nut shaped being was really going to turn into a little human being. However, seeing the little flutters on the monitor was quite awesome. So I'm happy to say, all's well with mother and child and long may that be.

Lastly and certainly deservedly least, I should mention this jackass who did not give up a seat to my PREGNANT wife in a maternity hospital of all places. When we got to the narrow corridor that serves as a waiting area, there were no seats available and so we ended up standing right in front of this couple. So for a good 20 or so minutes, HGS was actually standing right in front of this moron, who either pretended not to see her right at all (honestly if she had swung her arm even without leaning forward she would have struck him squarely on his balding patch...hmmm) or judging by his pot belly, perhaps was more deserving of the seat and was maybe in his second trimester.

Anyway, HGS did eventually get a seat and soon after that another woman joined the queue and the jerk finally got up and offered her the seat. Now I will leave you to make your own conclusions. All I can say is shame on him and moreso his wife/partner/girlfriend/mistress who as a pregnant comrade did not nudge him off his sorry arse. I know for sure HGS would have more than nudged me to get off my backside (not that there is any chance that I would have hogged the seat anyway – mama raised me right).

Academia!

Those dear to me would attest to being occasionally reminded of my stated desire to wriggle my way into academia and end the rest of my days there. So it was not much of a surprise that I ended up in Ireland's biggest university (University College Dublin) as a research scholar, albeit for a few months. As fate would have it, this exciting research opportunity popped up almost as my enjoyable sojourn with an immigration NGO was about to end. Briefly, the Egalitarian World Initiative/Combat Poverty Agency Civil Society Research Scholarship (quite a mouthful, hey?) provides an opportunity for research ‘time out’ for civil society activists (that's me!!!) to reflect on and re-engage with their work at an intellectual level. The quite generous scholarship provides scholars with the opportunity to take ‘time out’ from their work on the ground to pursue a research or policy theme of their choosing related to their work. My research focuses on the plight and needs of unaccompanied minors or separated children seeking asylum in Ireland. As one of the two 2009/2010 scholars, I am based in the Equality Studies Centre, UCD School of Social Justice and have access to the university library and most significantly to the highly regarded expertise and knowledge in the Centre. It is gratifying to be sharing the same working space with such academic luminaries who have shaped my own personal, professional and academic interests in equality and social justice.

More of how I get on later!

Writing about Africa

I was on a studio panel discussion on radio this week discussing western perceptions of Africa and one of my fellow panellists (via the phone) happened to be Binyavanga Wainaina, the Kenyan author, journalist and winner of the Caine Prize. This reminded me of his thought provoking satirical piece on the strereotypical western coverage of Africa. If you haven’t already come across How to Write about Africa, I would certainly recommend it, especially for its sarcastic wit.

Africa Day in Ireland

Having been on a two-year self-imposed hiatus from any sort of public engagements, I decided that this year I would foist myself on an unsuspecting public. The first opportunity that presented itself is the Irish Aid sponsored Africa Day celebrations in Ireland which kicked off in Limerick on May, 17 and moved on to Dublin on May, 24.

Thanks to the wise counsel of the good folks at DHR (who have superbly organized the celebrations for the second successive year) it was deemed that I was incongruously suitable for a return behind the microphone and also in a fit state to provoke and stimulate a bit of debate about the perceptions of Africa in the Ireland.

Despite the typical intermittent mid-western downpours, I enjoyed being back in Limerick (I once lived in the city and worked for the local newspaper) and had a great time in what was a great venue and great atmosphere and great craic was had by all. More of the same and better weather in Dublin would be swell.

Ah yes, is that quizzical eyebrow I see? Yes, you may wonder how it came about that Africa Day is celebrated in Ireland with such zest and effort.

Well, Irish Aid, which is the Irish government’s programme of assistance to developing countries, particularly in Africa (Ethiopia, Mozambique, Uganda, Lesotho, Tanzania, Zambia, Malawi and through bilateral aid for specific projects in Zimbabwe, South Africa and Liberia) decided last year to mark the official day of the African Union by celebrating African diversity and success (a rare thing in this hemisphere).

Most importantly and highly commendable, was Irish Aid’s quick realization that they could tap into the vibrant African community in Ireland and help highlight all that was good about the continent. Fair play to them, as the saying goes here!

So if you happen to be in these parts, make sure you make a beeline for the Iveagh Gardens on Sunday.