Today, 29 years ago I gave birth to my son David and I remember his birth like it was yesterday.  It was in the apartheid era and non-whites were not allowed in the white section of the hospital but my late husband wanted the best care for his wife and child and so he lied and said I was white on the admission form.  I was about to give birth when the staff realized I was non-white and they put me in a wheelchair to push me through to the non-white section but an Irish nurse piped up and said to the head nurse, 'why can't she just have her baby here and we'll push her through right after, else she's bound to give birth in the wheelchair."  They quickly put me back up onto the bed and David was born not long after that.  Meanwhile my late husband was arranging with the gynea, that I stay in a single room and only for a few days and it was allowed. And so it came about that we could stay in the white's only section of the hospital.  I know this has absolutely nothing to do with Abuja but at times like these I miss my family.  Birthdays were always special days even if I only baked a cake.  We could have a party with half a smarty.  I remember when he was about 5 or 6 and I asked him what goes 99 plonk, 99 plonk and he said "I don't know, tell me" and I said "a centipede with a wooden leg" and it cracked him up big time.  He's a daddy now, all grown up.  God bless him.