'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.
