The Miracle of Life

I have seen a few caesarean sections here in Machame, all of which went were quick and clean, and I think relatively painless – all children entered the world problem-free, so I’m a big fan. I’ve also spent a few mornings on the labour ward with mothers pre and post-delivery and where the more normal deliveries occur. I’ve only been present at one previous normal delivery, but was too young to really understand what was going on and I can’t remember much at all. The delivery I saw at Machame was far more memorable, though certainly not quick, nor clean, nor painless.

A growing proportion of women in Tanzania now give birth in hospitals, including at Machame many Maasai - these women make up the majority of the ward. The Maasai travel great distances to be treated at Machame (a hospital of considerable reputation in their communities), and can be easily identified by their shaved heads, stretched ear lobes and missing teeth, or the men by the roadside with colourful cloaks, staff and herd of cattle. The Maasai are perhaps the most archetypal African tribe and are a fascinating people- I should write more about them at some point.

Laura and I were hanging around in the labour ward with a student nurse named Chaz, who was patient enough to explain the stages of labour and delivery to us and answer our questions, since we were both pretty uneducated. There are almost no medical terms in this post since I remain pretty clueless about the subject – I can look forward to learning about obstetrics in my next and final year at Birmingham.

Periodically we would pop into the delivery room with Chaz to check on the currently evolving mum-to-be and hold her hand during contractions. The labour ward itself has a delivery room and two pre-delivery beds where women sometimes give birth too, and there is also a nursery of three beds where women stay with their babies for a short while if required.

As the protagonist edged closer to delivery we were gradually joined by more and more student nurses and a midwife, and one of the doctors floated nearby overseeing the spectacle. People talk of childbirth as a wonderful, beautiful and natural process, though to my mind it was the most terrifying and unnatural event I have ever witnessed. It is truly bizarre to watch a human being’s exit from within another human being, and via a totally ridiculous route and manner. Worse, this young man arrived face up (called occiptoposterior presentation I think), a more difficult route than the usual face down position. As the baby finally emerged mother began to chant “hallelujah” and within a few more seconds there was a tiny boy dangling from a string at the foot of the bed, along with various other less miraculous materials. Cutting the umbilical cord looks barbaric, though apparently painless, and after a brief towel dry the screaming creature was bundled up and onto the mothers abdomen – the WHO’s cutely named “kangaroo mother care” procedure that advocates maximal skin-skin contact. The whole process was initially disgusting but I unexpectedly felt warm as the conclusion approached and finally I was so moved I wept. Well, nearly.

After a while the baby was moved to on the side room neonatal unit which has an incubator and was placed in some shoebox-like cot under a heat lamp where he began to quietly suckle on the blanket he was swaddled in. We watched and cooed for a little while and I named him Simba.