Drenched in rain

Drenched in the rain.

She ran to me for solace many times, each time her husband beat her for, according to her, having only girls. She'd come crying, and the last time, drenched in rain. Apparently she'd been beaten and sent away in the downpour. Like many times before.

I always tried my best for her. Taking her in to stay at the health center. Letting her know that it's never her fault, that the difficulties she was facing weren’t going to last forever.

She was pregnant all the while shaa. But, it didn't stop her husband from beating her mercilessly. The most recent time, the reason was that she failed to wash his clothes.

She said that he’d shouted “being pregnant with girls all the time shouldn’t stop you from washing my clothes” before kicking her in the belly.

This is Ebonyi, rural Ebonyi, and the teachings of gender equality do not really trickle down to the masses. So they act in ignorance. Still think that having a male child completes a woman. And so, some go maltreating their wives for not having  male children. Women like the one in this story.

But, she’s a strong woman. She resolved to survive. Against all odds.

Soon she’d go into labour.

It was the dark skinned nurse who called.

"Doctor, our friend is in labour. Her water has broken and she's having contractions. Strong regular contractions. More than three in 10 minutes."

The nurse sounded excited. She loved catching babies. Always said that it's the most beautiful aspect of the practice.

But, I was free on the day and so I replied. "Set a line.  Pass a catheter. Get everything ready. I'll be coming soon."

The wait was not to difficult. I sat in the car in between checking up on the woman. Cervix. Fetal heart sound. Rate of dilatation. Etc. And teaching the new students nurses.

The cloud was blue. The birds sang. Light breeze whizzed through the palm trees that lined the compound from time to time. The woman cried intermittently.

"God, help me! Virgin Maria nyere m aka! Chukwu Mbaka! Mere onwe gị eha!"

I consoled all the while. A resounding amen here. A rub on her shoulders there.
"Nne jisie ike. Ọ ga adị mma. Be strong."

I made sure to sound as polite as possible.

I'd developed a connection with her all the while she'd been running to me for solace. And now, that connection was being made manifest. I know it because, I never teased her for once. And her cries felt like they were mine.

Soon, first stage of the labour would be over. A little more decent beyond the brim. I used the opportunity to show the student nurses.

"Here, check her cervix. Can you feel the perimeter? You can see it no longer palpable. It's now "rolled up" like the end of a condom. It means that the baby is getting into the birth canal proper. Now, she'll have to try and push with each contraction........ watch  to see that the anterior lip is not too thick or you’d have a possible cervical tear. Etc"

The young girls listened with attention. They loved the experience. They, too tried to console the woman.

They too joined in the chorus. "Push! Push! Push! A little harder! One more time! Breathe! Wait. Push!"

Till the baby yelped. A very pink baby with lips the colour of strawberries.

Soon, the nursed would clean him up and wrap him in a piece of old wrapper. The man had refused to buy the necessary things.

***

The rain had started falling by the time the husband of the woman came running. Drenched in such a way that reminded me of his wife the night he'd locked her out.

His eyes were wide, full of questions whose answers he probably already knew. Yet, that uncertainty, that fear still remained.

But, I love teasing people. So, I made a sad face once he'd come close to me.

And that changed his, at once. He looked scared. And I loved it. Momentarily. Wanted him to know what it felt like to be afraid, just like he loved making his wife.

But soon, the nice guy in me would prevail and I smiled. Then said to him "it's a boy. A very pink boy. Go on. Go and see him."

I  couldn’t now control the smile, borne out of fact that I’d been able to help. For  I hadn’t asked for deposit and all before using my own money to run the show, till the present moment.

I watched him fly into the room.
I watched him pick up the boy gingerly, placing his fore head on the boy's and muttering, 'Papa m!'
I watched him look at his wife on the couch. The blood, urine and stool already all wiped off.

I watched him lower his gaze upon her. I watched his lips part in apology, as his eyes got misty and he muttered in a tearful voice “thank you, Mama. Thank you, nnem. I am sorry.”

I watched him reach out to hold her hand and say more consoling words.

But, the woman turned away. She asked the nurse to “please, inform the doctor that she’s hungry.”

©Nnaemeka Ugwu.