Chapter II

 

She only started crying when the baby stopped crying. It was a somber cry of death from pains only known by women of age. The young mother was one kilometer east of Mwalumina village in a dense forest alone. After dropping out of school like most of her peers, Ima opted to stay home and help her single father with home chores. It was evident that the old man had no intentions to remarry with the passing away of his dear wife three years ago. She was the oldest girl and therefore, she took it upon herself to play the motherly role and attended to the needs of her family.

Ima was twenty years old and had been in the village all her life with only one time in Lusaka when she went for a holiday. Her stay in town was very brief and so could not see and appreciate the beauty of town life. Her joy and destiny was centered in the traditions and primitive life style she enjoyed in the outskirts of the capital city of Zambia. There was no more joy than staying and seeing her native brothers and sisters play around her father. Being the first born daughter, Ima was her dad’s favorite and she could see what her presence meant to him. So in her life dealings, the young girl was too careful and scared not to break her father’s heart.

As per village customs and standards, Ima had grown and so many boys and men approached her for a hand in marriage. However, the fear of living her family alone with a number of boys made her to turn their offers down. She told herself to wait for her youngest sister to grow up, that’s only when she could think of marriage. With her mind set, Ima was a house girl and would recover the disappointments she made her father go through when she failed her grade seven exams. She worked day and night exactly like her late mother and ensured that all the needs of the family were met.

One afternoon, as she walked to the well to draw water she met a young man riding a bicycle heading her direction. She knew the boy as they were together at school four years ago. When he reached where she was, he slowly came to a halt and jumped off the bicycle. Together they walked chatting towards the well and talked about their old school days. In no time they reached, and as a gentleman, the boy helped her turn the dryer until her bucket got full. To her surprise, the boy offered to put the water bucket on the carrier and helped her back home.

From that day, the two old school mates saw each other often and eventually became intimate. It was from this intimacy that Ima conceived and decided to hide the abomination from anyone. Not even her boyfriend had a clue that she was carrying his child. Ima painfully saw her belly grow and did all she could to hide it until the time for delivery came. The sight of the boyfriend was sickening to the young pregnant girl and slowly withdrew herself from him. She did all she could not to reveal strange pregnancy signs and expose the changes in her body as a result of the baby. She had seen her mother give birth to her three siblings on the floor of their grass-thatched house without bothering going to the clinic, which was about twenty kilometers away. At some point she felt pity witnessing the agonizing delivery pains her mother was going through. She saw her cry in anguish for the joy of receiving a new baby.

The mere thought of the pains made her more determined to see what was growing inside her belly. She had resolved never to allow the boy’s father see it and would eventually bring it as a surprise to her father. As the pregnancy grew, Ima started wearing her late mum’s cloths to ensure maximum concealment. Her energy to work never reduced not even a bit, she was as active as before. She did the chores and the father was proud of her daughter. Since she could not count days with certainty, the young girl relied only on the signs her mother talked about when she was still alive. The convulsions, and rippled pains coupled with minor fluid discharges were her only signs and hope for safe delivery.

She picked the remnants of her mother’s last born cloths and packed them in a plastic bag and carefully hid it in her grass thatched house. These were to be the only clothes for her baby. Time passed and the signs were nowhere. Her belly grew and eventually she was scared of being caught. She prayed that the signs could show during the day so that she could march to the famous forest in the village.

The hour had finally come; a single convulsion hit her spine. Then she waited for the second one, instead it was a stream of rippled waves sending shivers through her entire body. Then the young girl knew that her day had come and the marching orders were clear. She packed all she could and headed to the place she knew that one day she was going for solace. Her steps grew heavy and slow, but she kept walking. The fluids started and her mother’s words became louder. She saw her face brilliantly comforting her and encouraging her to be strong.

It was then that Ima missed her dear mother. She craved for her strength and comfort. Slowly she trudged through the dense forest to a distance where no one could hear her. She remembered the cries of her mother even during the third delivery. Now she imagined her being the first time, she expected more excruciating pains. The discharge increased and the blood started staining her wrapper. Without a choice, the girl fell down and was instantly in the labor ward where she was the midwife at the same time.

She thought she was brave enough until she saw herself dying. The strength she gathered dwindled at a faster rate leaving her breathless and powerless. The young mother pushed harder taking advantage of her youthful vigor and energy. She knew she stood on the thin line between life and death. Only herself could save herself from the talons of death. She pushed harder and harder until she smelled the very things she wished never to see. It was faecal matter which came out instead. Time to clean herself wasn’t there. She needed to save both herself and the baby. So she continued pushing when suddenly she heard the thick and hard sound from in between her legs. She knew what it was. Her baby was out.

The shrill cry came out as the only single sign she knew for normal delivery. With a sense of relief, she took a deep breath and reached for her baby. The young mother lifted her left hand while leaning with the right hand on the grass. She saw a stale, musty odor lochia like menstrual discharge with blood clots in a pool of reddish fluid all over her lower body parts. She expected a much lighter sight. The baby had cried and now it was peaceful. She lifted herself up with both hands and reached for the plastic gloves she packed in the bag and wrapped her hands. Delicately she reached for her first born baby eager to see the sex. She pushed herself backwards a bit for a clearer view and space to reach the infant with both hands.

Without much fear and distaste, the young mother reached for the baby and lifted it up to almost her waist and peeped for the sex. No sooner had she confirmed that her baby was male than she realized that she was holding a corpse. For a second she could not believe her eyes. She held the infant closer to her chest and tried opening its eyes and reached for the heartbeat feeling anything she could. She felt the cold wave of death in its body and saw the lifelessness all over its face and the young girl finally succumbed to the painful reality. Her only child died immediately after exhibiting signs of life through a baby cry.

She grieved her baby in silence for fear to be heard before she dexterously cut the umbilical code and tied both ends. Then bravely Ima wrapped the dead baby in the clothes she came with and placed it down on the towel.

With bare hands, Ima dug a small and shallow grave of about a square meter and half a meter deep. With tears streaming down her cheeks, she buried the baby together with all the blood and the clothes she had carried. After about an hour, there was no evidence of the remains of delivery in the forest and the bleeding had stopped. In anguish, she braced herself up and headed home.