It was in Vlaardingen, where I lived for years and where my daughter was born in 2008, that I first walked the street with a Torso carrying cloth — a newborn baby inside it. Just like in Africa, I had no instruction booklet to go with it.
We were given a baby carrier as a gift, so my husband could carry her too sometimes. He tried it, and we took a photo right away. But something was off with that carrier. Our baby, already used to the carrying cloth, started crying, and my husband decided on the spot that carrying babies just wasn’t for him. There were several reasons: it didn’t sit right on his shoulders, the baby hung awkwardly, the weight wasn’t distributed properly. The carrier — one that’s apparently still sold in stores to this day — simply wasn’t quite right. But how would you know that, when baby wagons are all you ever see around you?
We went straight to a shop to find something better for him. No luck. The store had maybe three types, the same ones I still see on the street today — a slanted one, and one with straps and buckles that used so little fabric it offered almost no support, never mind where the baby was actually supposed to sit. Something pressed right into the baby’s groin. That could never be right.
Somewhere deep in my heart, a quiet, positive voice kept telling me: there is appreciation for carrying babies — people just never thought to ask the original, traditional carriers how it’s actually done. For me, that was the beginning of Bereka.
I still remember going with my husband to almost every major store — the middle of the country, Amsterdam, Arnhem, even Gouda and Sliedrecht. We were just those slightly obsessive parents who wanted to see and compare everything before spending our money. “How can this be?” I asked in one shop. “Well,” the assistant said, “I just work here, ma’am, nothing more.” And there you are, trying to convince your Dutch husband that something from your own culture is better, wanting so badly for him to see it too.
I have to admit, looking back, there were people quietly practicing babywearing — just not in large numbers, and not with much drive to bring others along. The first example I ever read was a writer/journalist behind “De Hechte Band,” and I met a few more people during World Breastfeeding Week events, mostly from towns outside the Randstad. That made me genuinely happy — finally, someone who understood the idea. By then my husband was fully convinced too. Many of them had already traveled to other continents, Asia and Africa, for projects or holidays. Beautiful stories. My own GP had been to Africa too, and came back with lovely stories about babywearing there.
But how do you spread it? By gently showing people how good babywearing feels. By never laughing at someone for having bought the wrong product. The fact is, regardless of which carrier or wrap, every parent is already doing their very best to keep their baby close.
In the next post, I’ll explain why most African parents or diaspora families end up pushing a pram instead.
