MIDWIFE BY MOONLIGHT

MIDWIFE BY MOONLIGHT

CLASSROOM AND COMPOUND

“How, in God’s name did I get myself into this fix?” kept repeating to myself  as I pushed through the high kunai grass at midnight with the moon staring on, quite unmoved…or was that a lunar smile?

It all began innocently enough with a knocking and an urgent voice calling from outside our little cottage. At that stage I was living with an Irish Marist, Nial Kernan out in the bush where we ran a training centre for village catechists. I bounded out of bed, went to the door to find a nuggetty Malaitan, dressed in shorts and very, very disturbed. He blurted out his story in pidgin English.

“My wife is having a baby and there’s trouble. You white man, you know all about these things, you’ve got to come and help!”

“Did you hear that Nial?” I suspected this visit had woken him.

“Don’t bother me, you look after it.”

While being chuffed at the “native’s” trust in the whiteman, I was decidedly miffed at Nial’s dismissive approach to this crisis.

A brief conversation followed where I got a few more details and found I could get pretty close in our little Datsun. With some trepidation but also with a certain gung ho attitude I bundled into the car and bounced off into the night. It was only about a ten minute bumpy drive along an old World War Two road, one of a web, network which served a former  enormous military base. With many migrants from Malaita they would squat on local land and find shelter where they could.

“Stop here.”

I followed him through high grass and scattered trees.  That’s when I expostulated:

“Dear God, why do you get me into these situations?

We came to an old iron shed- his home, where several people were standing around a fire in this “furnace”. How did they ever survive here? I thought.

“Now, you follow this girl. She will take you to my wife.”

It then clicked. In these traditional people, the “curse” of blood is feared. Menstrual blood, blood from birth can “sully” men and need some purification. Hence you find these small clusters of very basic huts outside villages to cater for menstruating girls, women!

DINNER FROM GARDEN

So, I followed the girl. That’s when I became aware of the moonlight and I started praying.

As we approached a river bank I could hear a baby cry. I was relieved. So what was the problem? I could make out the mother sitting on the bank with the new-born baby in her hands and rocking and moaning in pain. There were two women in attendance but just standing inert.

With my flashlight I carefully examined the pair. There was the problem- the umbilical cord had not been cut and there was much more trouble.

I seem to get strength from somewhere. I knew I needed some utensils, as images of some distant TV shows, like DOCTOR CASEY flitted back. I started back. Suddenly, the “dad” yelled out.
“You must not come back this way!”

Of course; I would bring ritual uncleanness to them! Alright for me; we white men were immune.

Damn! Where was the car?

Over there,  somewhere I think. I stumbled down the bank, across the creek and luckily found the road and the car. Somewhat excited yet fearful I jolted back to the Centre.

I would need some boiling water, scissors, string or twine, towels, bandages and ……

It was then I got a great inspiration. Just across from our house was a very simple dwelling, where out cook girl, a competent, cheery Philomena resided. Not wanting to scare her, I quietly knocked and whispered

 “Philomena, it’s Br. Des. I need your help”.

She gave a yelp. What sort of man would be sneaking around her house at this hour? She did take a little convincing! Once I explained she was more than willing. I’m sure back in Ata’a in Malaita she had taken part in many births. There were certainly no doctors on tap and the nearest simple clinic could have been hours’ walk away. Bringing her was the smartest of moves.

CHAPEL AT BACK AND LOCAL KIDS

Again, we had to thrash through the bush and across the creek, not wanting to upset the local spirits. Poor mum was still moaning and groaning; so there were other problems as well as an uncut umbilical. By flashlight we set up our “surgery”. Philo was assured, even if she let “Doctor Des” take up the running. ( I did whisper my little prayer for help but did not think of another dark delivery in a cave all those centuries ago!) While  Philo took the baby, I cut and tied string at two points along the cord. Then, holding my breath I deftly cut through with sterilised scissors. “Nurse” Philo wrapped the baby in a clean towel. There was no relief for mother and it would get worse. How to get her across the creek? We had no stretcher and we certainly could not carry her. If we were to get her to Honiara hospital, some forty minutes away, she was going to have to get herself to the car. So, with a little help, much struggle and anguish she dragged herself across that creek.  I marvelled at her toughness as she made those painful yards. She was in quite a state when she reached the Datsun. We lay a towel on the back seat and as gently as we could along that bumpy road we drove to the hospital.



THIS ONE WAS CALLED DESI.



When we arrived, I dashed inside to alert staff of our situation. I was shocked at a certain callousness. There was no stretcher provided. With a little persuasion and help they actually walked her up some six steps and into the ward. For about an hour I walked up and down, like some expectant father. I had no fear about the baby. She had taken on the world out there in the dirt and darkness and would surely live. When a nurse and Philomena appeared they seemed satisfied that mum would be alright. She had lost some blood and there were complications caused by the after birth not coming away; but all would be well.It was near four o’clock when, in a turmoil of thoughts and feelings I arrived back at the centre, somewhat exhausted but ever so grateful that all was well.

I popped into the hospital a few days later and both mum and baby were doing well. No, they did not call the girl “Desdemona” and I can’t remember dad coming along with a coconut in thanks. But then, this sort of “delivery” is something that white men are doing quite regularly!