Part Eighteen: Crappy Christmas

Dear Morayo, It's 2020 now- a brand new year and a brand new decade. Your first Christmas was quiet, but one in which we discovered that you much prefer wrapping paper to actual presents, and also that you're a huge fan of Yorkshire puddings! I had a tough time over the festive period, it has … Continue reading Part Eighteen: Crappy Christmas →

Part Seventeen: Dirt

Dear Morayo, Not only can you now clap your hands, but you can wave hello and goodbye, and even say 'hiiiii'. Obviously I'm bursting with pride, think you're bordering on genius, and have told everyone I know- I mean, you're not even nine months old yet! Star in the making! I've been putting off writing … Continue reading Part Seventeen: Dirt →

Part Sixteen: Privilege

Dear Morayo, You know by now that your Dad and I met in Jordan. Prior to living in Amman, he had lived in Dubai as well as his home country of Nigeria, and I had lived in Libya, Yemen and Sri Lanka as well as growing up in the UK. Since leaving Amman I worked … Continue reading Part Sixteen: Privilege →

Part Fourteen: Memories of waiting

Dear Morayo, I suppose I have been putting off writing about visiting your Dad in prison because I don't really want to know what I can and can't remember. It feels as though it happened to someone else, but simultaneously that it is an integral part of who I am now. I assume that your … Continue reading Part Fourteen: Memories of waiting →

Part Twelve: Courage takes time

Dear Morayo, It's taken me a little while but this week I finally built up the courage to put your high chair together and today I fed you your first proper 'meal'. You loved it, chatted the whole way through, and even 'asked' for more! I'm hoping that some food other than breast milk in … Continue reading Part Twelve: Courage takes time →

Part Eleven: Bubble bursting

Dear Morayo, You're five months old now, and you love bubbles! You dribble and blow raspberries all the time, making as many bubbles as possible both whilst smiling as well as during 'I-need-a-nap' tantrums. When I take you to baby sensory classes, your favourite part is always when the lady in charge brings out the … Continue reading Part Eleven: Bubble bursting →

Part Ten: Private number

Dear Morayo, When I met your Dad, he thought I was a complete luddite as I didn't have a smartphone, had never heard of Whatsapp, and had hardly ever used an emoji. It was he who persuaded me that I really should enter this century, especially considering I communicated regularly with people back home, and … Continue reading Part Ten: Private number →

Part Nine: Remembering and forgetting

Dear Morayo, Here are some things I remember in the period between seeing your Dad stooped over in a cage, me clutching at his hand through bars, and seeing him in a blue prison uniform through reinforced glass, not being able to touch or even smell him for months, having to speak via a greasy … Continue reading Part Nine: Remembering and forgetting →

Part Eight: There’s no smoke without fire

Dear Morayo, Entering into motherhood is like entering into a sisterhood that you never knew existed. People welcome you aboard the 'mothership' with open arms, and you navigate your way through the choppy seas with advice from these 'old hands' as well as bumbling around with your new-found new-mother friends who just so happen to … Continue reading Part Eight: There’s no smoke without fire →

Part Seven: Vulnerability

Dear Morayo, The strangest thing about seeing your Dad in a cage in a grimy little police station in a country that on the surface has a good reputation as the 'Switzerland of the Middle East' (the implication being that it is free and progressive with a good Human Rights record), is that my memories … Continue reading Part Seven: Vulnerability →