My Mama is My Yaya

So said my 3-year old Indie to a small circle of yayas gathered around her one morning in the compound where we live. The women were aghast, maybe thinking that the yaya label my daughter bestowed on me was both insulting and demeaning.

Yaya. Someone paid to mother our children. Is there indignity there?


I am a proud hands-on parent and I "yaya" my one and only child full-time without feeling inferior or inadequate in any way. I have always seen myself as a mother hen and I find great pleasure in taking care of somebody other than myself. I thrive on it, in fact. It naturally follows then that I will make it my duty to raise my own child with my own two hands, without having to place this wonderful task in another person's hands.


Yes, I don't go to work anymore. Yet I haven't worked this hard in my entire life. My current job description is boundless and all-encompassing. What I have now is a 24/7 career. I am on call even on holidays. There are no sick leaves for me, much less vacation leaves. Promotions don't happen either. You start and end with the same title. To top it all, there is no room for resignation or early retirement; it's the kind of work that follows you to the grave.


No matter, mothering my little one, to me, is the most rewarding, most fulfilling job in the world. Paychecks arrive not every 15 days but everyday, every hour even. And they come in the form of hugs and kisses and a thousand I love yous.