As I welcomed new life into the world in 2019, my mother travelled from Nigeria to England, to be by my side. She stayed with us for a period of three months to help care for me, and impart invaluable wisdom and knowledge to me on how to care for my baby.
I doubt I could have survived the entire birthing experience without my loving mother standing by my side every step of the way.
I often look back at that time with fond memories, as I remember just how blessed I was to have my mother teach me all I needed to know.
This period was so vivid and impactful, that when I had my second child, I was able to apply all I had learnt from my mom, even though she was unable to travel to the United Kingdom, due to the COVID pandemic.
What my mom did for me is known as Omugwo.
Omugwo is a commonly held tradition in many parts of Nigeria. It originates from the Igbo tribe, and is the name used to refer to customary postpartum care given to a new mother. Omugwo involves an older woman — often, a mother or mother-in-law — caring and tending to her daughter or daughter-in-law in the period after childbirth, to provide care and support for the new mother.
During this period, the older woman will generally help-out by carrying, bathing and feeding the baby. She may also assist with other household chores, such as; cooking, washing, ironing clothes and cleaning the house. The older woman may equally provide personal and intimate care for the new mother by giving her massages and warm baths to aid with the postpartum recovery process.
The period of Omugwo is a truly special and priceless one, because it is also an opportunity for the older woman to give sound advice and pass on sage wisdom to the new mother, on how to care for her children, her family and herself, etc.
What makes the practice of Omugwo significant and well-respected is that it provides holistic care and caters to a variety of needs, including the physical, emotional and mental needs of new mothers.
It is a crucial aspect of the post-natal experience, because it provides additional emotional and mental support for new mothers — an aspect of postpartum care which is not always as visible in the way a physical need is.
Omugwo can also be lifesaving. Especially when a new mother is on the verge of post-natal depression, due to physical, emotional and mental exhaustion from the challenging task of caring for a new-born. Round-the-clock support from her mother or a close family member can be the difference between a case of the baby blues or postpartum depression.
Support of this nature allows new mothers to bask in the glory of the new-born stage — a stage often hastily wished away, because it is challenging to navigate — and not worry about household chores or endless to-do-lists.
New mothers then have the opportunity to heal and enjoy the post-childbirth experience, all the while learning and gaining invaluable wisdom from their own mothers or mothers-in-law.
I’ve found that the tradition of Omugwo is not unique to Nigeria. In fact, it is practiced all over the world — using different descriptors and to different degrees and variations.
From Africa to the Caribbean islands. From East to South Asia. From the Americas to Australasia and beyond, older experienced women nurture new mothers — biological or otherwise, by providing physical help and assistance and passing on practical advice tips on how to raise and care for a new baby.
In every sense of the word, Omugwo is the truest and purest testament of the adage – it takes a village.
However, in reality, not all women have the opportunity to have their biological mothers or older female relatives by their side after childbirth — for various reasons, including estrangement, loss, sickness, geographic impracticality, financial reasons, and even a global pandemic.
For any number of reasons, we may not have the luxury to lean on the support provided by our biological extended families. When faced with this unique set of challenges, we have to circumvent these obstacles and take on a new meaning of what our village looks like.
The African proverb “It takes a village to raise a child” has been around for centuries, and it refers to the idea that raising a child is a community effort, with everyone playing a role in ensuring the child receives the proper support, education, and guidance.
We live in unprecedented times so the idea that it takes a village is more important now, than ever before.
Due to the spate of technological advancement, travel and migration, we have become increasingly more individualistic, disconnected and self-reliant, which has severely disjointed the family structure.
We live in a world where families are often isolated, and communities are not as tight-knit as they once were, often to the detriment of our children — who are tomorrow’s future.
We need a village to help us get things right.
The sort of village we need is perhaps not traditional in the sense we once knew, but a different sort of global village.
One upheld by friends — from different racial and ethnic backgrounds, neighbours — far and wide, the church — a community of believers, united in their love for God, a network of like-minded people — parenting-focused support groups, both in person and online, and the community at large.
We need to tap into a unique blend of close and ‘extended’ support systems — in person and online, and a host of other networks and resources, to ensure that no family is left behind.
We need a village to help raise healthy families.
But our village must take on a new meaning to incorporate our unique reality, while taking full advantage of the opportunity this affords us — the chance to use every resource at our disposal to assist, educate and guide us on parenting in this new age.
When I think of the words it takes a village, I envision a mother coming to the aid of her newly postpartum daughter to help her when she’s at her most vulnerable.
I visualise a church community coming together to provide a cooked meal for a family that has just welcomed a new baby.
I picture a friend offering to babysit for her exhausted friend, while she sleeps, to regain her strength.
I imagine a stranger giving a listening non-judgemental ear to an overwhelmed mother because she needs to vent.
I see a group of women looking out for each other by sharing helpful parenting books, podcasts and other resources with mothers in their networks because they realise we all need each other to survive.
When we use the phrase it takes a village, it puts the onus on us — the friends, the neighbours, the church and the local community at large — to help raise each other’s children.
We need a village that is abreast with the times and unique circumstances in that we find ourselves, and is willing and available, so that when we need to circumvent a threat to the well-being of our children — physical, emotional, mental or otherwise — we know where to find this village to call on for help.
We need a village that takes the shape of a supportive network sharing useful informational tips on what worked for them and what didn’t, which we can build on or pivot where applicable, so that when it is our turn, we have an idea of what to do and what not to.
We need a village in the form of like-minded parents and friends that share parenting resources and lived experiences, so that we can navigate our individual parental journey with full confidence, knowing very well that we have a tribe behind us, supporting us in every way possible, to ensure that we do not, and can not fail.
Writings of an African Bohemian 