Mutale and I arrive promptly at UTH having been lucky not to have been caught up in the Lusaka traffic. The atmosphere is exactly as nauseating as I thought it would be but also just as depressing. The good thing is that this time I have an idea about which way to go to the gynaecology department. Mutale insists on holding my hand for ‘moral support’ but I have a feeling it is much more than that. Every time our eyes meet, the craving to allow our lips to meet is overpowering. Neither of us admits it openly so the handholding appears to be our safest option.
The gynaecology department is crowded with women with the line going as far as the entry door. Some are heavily pregnant but have to stand because there is nowhere left for them to sit. I ask Mutale why it is so busy and he informs me this is where people come to ‘wash their stomachs’.
‘What do you mean by that?’ It definitely does not sound like the right place to be for a pregnant woman. Wash what?
‘It is where they come for abortions. They call it ukusamfya (wash) because it gets rid of any extra debris left behind after abortion’ he explains.
‘Mutiz we are definitely in the wrong place. I want to keep my little one not destroy him’.
‘Now how do you know it is a he?’
‘I just do ite!’ Men.
There is an office on the left that seems really clean and posh. I wonder why no one is in there especially when there so many people standing. Mutale and I go in and give the nurse at the desk the referral note. She is very friendly and shows us the way to the reception area. ‘You need to tell them it is an emergency darling and that they need to give you a medical card. But when you come back here you have to queue with the rest of them there’
‘Queue? Maam you just said yourself it is an emergency. Every minute that I spend here is killing my baby. I need to be seen straight away. ‘I am now getting angry.
‘Oh and you can be seen right away if you pay. The ones out there are low cost. They don’t have money so they have to wait until they can be seen. Kuno where you have come is high cost. If you tell them at the desk that you would like our services, pay them and they will give you a receipt to bring back here with you’ she says amidst a gigantic smile.
‘That’s fine. Let’s go’ Mutale says grabbing my hand and hastily making it down to the reception area. It is unbelievable how busy this hospital is and the lines just never seem to budge. Lubuto communicates another impatient pain in the left side of my stomach sending me into a painful cry. The nurse looks at me and continues with attending to another expectant mother. Mutale, furious, pushes to the front and demands that we get seen immediately. The nurse simply looks at my referral and assumes I am here for an abortion. ‘Listen, if you wanted to get rid of the baby then that is not my problem. I don’t know why you women even get pregnant in the first place if you don’t want your kids.’ She smirks. Ooh Lord knows I am filled without a 1000% venom that I could spit at her.
‘You stupid woman!’ Mutale defends as I bend over double in pain yet again. ‘Can you not read that it is a suspected miscarriage? She is trying to save her baby now can we just pay for high cost before I am forced to do something to you that I will regret!’ I have never seen him appear more handsome than he does right now.
‘Sir you do not threaten staff…’ The other nurse begins and is interrupted by Mutale.
‘Who asked you? Bushe umuntu nga na lwala shiki bala kanya ukunya? (If someone has diarrhoea, can you stop them shitting?) your staff should be better trained not to be rude and even if someone was having an abortion, it is none of your damn business’.
Our papers are quickly arranged and we hurry back to the high cost section. Silently I say a prayer for any mother who is in my position but cannot afford high cost. Mutale sits with me whilst we wait for the gynaecologist to call us in. I have never been more anxious in my life and each minute that passes by, I feel like I might as well be dead. I swore to protect the little one and right now there was nothing I could do to speed things up. We are only three of us in the waiting room of the high cost department. The air con is on and the flat screen TV is on God channel giving some hope to my situation. Faith. That is something I have to kick into fervent operation right now.
[Phone call- Ryan] ‘Baby I am so sorry that my friend is not working today. How are things going over there?’
Mutale grabs the phone and cuts it. ‘He wants to know so badly? Let him be here!’ Awkward. He is his best friend and this situation is getting…hmm… what’s the word…oh yes- Awkward. I am too tired to argue. Ryan calls again and this time Mutale picks up the phone.
‘Guy, she is waiting to be seen by the doctor, we have been waiting two hours now but if you need any more information, come down yourself and see her. No I don’t care if you are working, so was I but this is more important. Your project is almost come to an end. You can spare a day to be with her’. He hangs up abruptly kissing his teeth. Don’t worry everything is OK. Seeing my face contorted in pain, he puts his arm around me and rests my head on his shoulder. I really don’t know what I would do without him. He is my rock and has not even once passed judgement on me. I feel calmer and allow myself the luxury of being soothed.
‘Ama loving ka?’ The nurse comments cheekily.
‘No we are just friends’ I answer quickly.
‘Mmmm sister, unless he is gay, you two are more than just friends’
‘Mutale tell her to quit playing’ but Mutale just laughs it off and puts my head back on his shoulder and strokes my hair gently. He plants a soft kiss on top of my head and pulls me in tighter.
The doctor finally calls us in and asks Mutale to wait for me outside. Finally progress.
‘I am so sorry that you have had to wait but as you can see this place is short on staff members.’ He runs through my paperwork then back up at my name ‘Melanie Chansa! I remember you! I am Ntazana. We took chemistry class together in grade 11.’ Oh geez way to tell me that right before you dive into my vagina!
‘That is very nice Ntazana and I do appreciate you being kind enough to tell me who you are before exploring my va jay jay even though I normally ask guys to at least buy me dinner first, but seriously!!Get digging before I am charged for murder!’ This is not the time for reminiscing surely! Dr Ntazana, examines me which takes about 2 minutes. His finger comes out with some clots. Shit!
‘It is what I feared it would be! Why did you not come here earlier?’ I have been here since morning you prick! Aaargh this system is a nightmare! ‘There are some small clots but I cannot diagnose for certain until you come back with another scan. It is almost 16:00 and I doubt if they are still open but dash there and tell them you require an emergency scan immediately. I want you to come back here soon after and we will take it from there.’ His face does not look at all hopeful. I rush out and read what his paper says – ‘Threatened abortion. Immediate scan required’. I feel dizzy. I feel so dizzy I am sick with it. I hand the note over to Mutale as Dr Ntazana explains where we should go. Threatened abortion. I read about that on Google and it is just a fancy way of saying a miscar…. That stupid word may be in progress. This is all my fault. I should never have wanted to terminate in first place. I am grateful to have Mutale hear but what I really need is a dose of Ryan. What I really need is for him to be here with me and hold me, to support and comfort me I mean what use is the damn job if the baby is not here? He has only one day left to go. Love should have brought him here. He is supposed to be with me. As if sensing what I am thinking, Mutale raises my chin and plants a simple, gentle kiss on my forehead. 'Come on. We are almost there. I am here and everything will be fine you'll see.'
Copyright © Chisanshi Malama 2013.
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