Bigger than Love pt4

'Hi Baby' Ryan says with a big warm fuzzy smile on his face. He embraces me and I melt into his arms instantly, his 6ft self-towering over my minute 5ft3 body. He rests his chin on my head as he embraces me. Huh! The marketeers frown and snigger at our public display of romance. England changed me in that public displays of affection are normal for me but not for Ryan so I am very grateful for this gesture. He places a finger under my chin and raises my head. He looks at me fondly and plants a soothing kiss on my forehead. My man. My awesome guy. He can calm a storm bless him. I conjure up the little strength I have and stand up straight and break away from his embrace much to the relief of the silly market women. It has nothing to do with tradition but more of jealousy I am sure of it.

' How are you feeling?' He asks all concerned and what not. I don't respond. How am I supposed to feel? I am still not sure how I feel. ' Don't worry about it Baby. We will be fine OK. Lets get a cab and head over to UTH (University Teaching Hospital).'

'Oh come on Ryan! UTH? Really? Just to confirm that I am pregnant?' Reality now hits me as I say it aloud. I am horrified that we have to go to that...that.. awful place for such a small task.

'Babe...relax will you ah ah. We going to UTH because my friend works there and he has offered to do the test for free plus we dont have to get stuck in endless queues all day. Don't forget you have to go and sort out your NRC this afternoon. Do you want to be stuck in clinics all day?'

Great. I had forgotten about the damn NRC. It is a National registration card that you need in order to get a job and all that jazz. Sort of like an NI number in England. I have been having trouble with getting this card since I came to Zambia. To be fair I should have got it when I was 16, but I had left for England at 15. Needless to say the hungry people dealing with my case are like vultures determined to make me pay an arm and a leg for it. They look for every legal loophole  in order to make me spit out pounds that I don't even have.

Ryan flags down a cab and am grateful to get in away from the prying scornful eyes of vendors.

" You are my oxygen

  you are part of my life everyday

  The way that you love me the way that you hold me

  Kupema ni ha ha ha

  Mutima wanga ine, nzelu zanga ine

  kupema ni ha ha ha....................."

Ryan pulls me in closer as the sounds of Petersen Zagaze boom from the cab radio. He is absolutely adamant that this is our song. I am not complaining. The song has definitely grown on me. I mean which girl in her right mind would complain when a guy says you are his oxygen. Unless ofcourse it is an ex saying so but even then it would still give some satisfaction na?

The cab pulls up in front of UTH and Ryan instructs the cab driver to take us to the entrance of Unit C. Gosh the fear is setting in once again and between you and I, UTH is not well known for delivering good news i'll tell you that! At best it is the quickest mode of transport to meet your maker, something I am defintely not prepared for not to mention Jesus may not be impressed to see me arrive with a bundle unmarried.

Ryan gets out of the cab, pays and thanks the driver as he opens the door for me. Oh what? You think I am a snob? Well pardon me for wanting to be treated like a lady and my man is every bit the gentleman. He holds my hand as I step out of the cab and leads me into the hospital. The ghastly pang of medicine smells float in the air and the pan brick ambiance provides no comfort for sick. Not that they would care what colour the walls are seeing as this place is normally for those really unwell as I stated earlier but I would still like to think it makes some sort of difference to the subconscience. We walk through the big corridors and a nurse passes us wheeling a patient who is so ill they are beyond description. The patient is covered with what appears to be sores except they look burnt and she is in clear agony. We rush to the elevator only to be met with a stretcher heading to the morgue. Gosh! None of this is putting me at ease. Ryan feels my palm getting sweaty and reassures me that it will be OK.

We finally find the unit we are looking for. I am under strict instruction not to speak unless spoken to. My accent has a twang of the British accent and as such always invites people to gong'a (swindle) me. There are people everywhere. Some are sitting on the floor while others are waiting on chairs. Some are lucky enough to be standing in queue because it signals that they are very close to being seen. The vibe is that of death or lost hope. It is clear they have been waiting for eternity. At the entrance of the unit is a nurse sitting nonchalantly engrossed with whatever she is viewing on her phone. She takes a pack of gum from the drawer opens it and begins to chew noisily. She pays no attention to the questions being posed by the patients and dismisses them with vague interest. As we walk past, the patients look at me angrily I think. They are pissed that we seem to have just arrived and are already ready to be seen. Temwani, Ryans mate meets us and takes us to his lab. He saunters me to a bench outside his lab and he and Ryan proceed inside to have a chat.  Gosh! I bet they are going to be crude as to what has led us here. Ten minutes later, Temwani comes out and hands me a urine pot and instructs me to pee in it. He is absolutely lovely with caramel complexion. For a minute I think to myself that he would be a good match for ChiChi if he did not already have a girl..and a baby. Never mind. ChiChi would eat him alive and possibly discard him on the basis that he has too much baggage with or without the kid.

'You can use this toilet here and just bring me back the keys when you are done. It is not for the public so make sure you lock it after' Temwani instructs.

'Sure' I respond meekily taking the pot from him. When I done, Temwani leads Ryan and I to another lab.

'So you tested at home and it came out positive?' Temwani asks as we head down a large spiral of stairs.

'Yes'

'Hahahaha, so if it was positive at home then it will be positive here right?'

' Madam wants to have a peace of mind so we just gotta do this' responds Ryan as I shoot Temwani a look of disdain at his untimely joke.

We are again fast tracked to the front of the queue and within minutes, Temwani comes out with a paper in his hand. He hands me the paper and I first note that Ryan has not actually used my last name but put his last name there.

"Melanie Chirwa. Pregnancy test. POSITIVE". The word positive is highlighted in red and signed by the doctor. Shit. Shit. Shit!!!

Ryan looks happy. I look devasted. I think I might just faint. Damn UTH. No freaking good news.

We thank Temwani and walk out of UTH. I hear nothing of what Ryan is saying. He is muttering something about how this will all be fine and some other gibberish. He is lucky he can buy time before telling his parents but I.. I .. I feel alone. All of a sudden I am made painfully aware that I am pregnant. Not We but I am. Forget all that cute nonsense couples mutter about "we are pregnant"! no no no. From conception,to telling parents, to telling friends, to changing hormones and swollen feet and stretch marks and crying and sobbing and more crying and clothes not fitting and pushing out the baby!!!It is all the woman. The thought weakens me and i crumble and cry.

'Baby don't cry. It will be OK'

' You keep saying that Ryan! How will it be OK? My parents are going to slaughter me never mind that I am 26. I did not wish to have a baby outside marriage. I don't know what dad is going to say and Oh gosh!!! Your dad is never gonna like me now is he?' I wail. I look sadly at the paper confirming this nightmare and Ryan takes me into his arms and holds me tight.

'Trust me Baby. If you are not ready then tell me so we can end this right now. I will take you back there and you can arrange an abortion if you want but you know my wishes. I would like us to keep the little one. I had promised my father never to make his mistakes but here we are. They are going to go absolutely balistic but then they will get over it and love the baby as much as we will. '

My chimubabe. Malachi.