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Not All Bid Farewell
By Tracy M'Cwabeni iUniverse LLC
Copyright © 2013 Tracy M'Cwabeni
All rights reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-4759-9730-9
CHAPTER 1
The Mbare Musika bus terminal was teeming with people from all walks of life. Some were would-be travellers to different parts of the country, some were entrepreneurs selling all sorts of wares and still others were there just to while away the time.
Ruva was feeling frustrated as she craned her neck high, hoping to catch a glimpse of a familiar face. She held a small parcel that contained a packet of sugar, a packet of tea leaves and two loaves of bread that she needed delivered to her only surviving uncle in the rural areas. But that frustration was instantly overtaken by a sudden spell of dizziness and pain. Ruva quickly squeezed herself into a gap on a full bench, guarding the parcel between her legs. She felt a slight pain in her abdomen, but it disappeared as quickly as it had come. When the dizziness was gone, she picked up her parcel and got on a bus back home.
In 1978, the white government in Rhodesia was holding on to power but was losing its grip on the war-torn countrywide, and Ruva Ganda was losing her own personal battle with another miscarriage. In the wee hours of the morning, she woke to the excruciating pain of abdominal cramps. She sat up and hunched forward in her bed, expecting the worst. She cautiously ran her hand under the covers, and as she pulled it out, it was smeared with blood. At that moment she knew it was the beginning of the end. With fear setting in, she slowly got out of bed and moved toward the light switch near the door, leaving the clear mark of her bloodstained fingers on the wall. Hopelessly, she glanced at the bed and saw a pool of blood where she had been sitting. She stood staring in disbelief, and the sight of her blood made her nauseous. Ruva had seen enough. She switched off the light and crawled to the other side of the bed, where she stayed, writhing in pain. At one point, she reached into a drawer for a bottle of painkillers. She shook it and could tell that it was empty. The pain of her past miscarriages was nothing in comparison to what she felt at that moment. She believed the pain was going to kill her. When it finally sank in that she was losing yet another baby, she sobbed.
She had a sad feeling of déjà vu as she recollected past miscarriages, and it seemed as though the world was crumbling under her feet. Death, amongst other things, was one of the fleeting thoughts that came to her mind. She also dreaded the depressing prospect of having to explain this over and over to those who cared to know. Although her mind was clouded with scary thoughts, she had the patience to wait until daybreak and ask Shungu, her neighbour and close friend, to call an ambulance. Holding her tummy and grimacing from the wrenching pain, she dragged herself out of bed and slowly walked to Shungu's house.
She knocked on the metal door, which bore an inviting sign that read "Welcome." Breathing heavily and staring at the sign as if she had never seen it before, she knocked again and stood for a little while before sitting down on the front step. Since it was early in the morning, Shungu was still sleeping, and by the time she finally opened the door, the wait had seemed like an eternity for Ruva.
Shungu observed her ill-looking friend. Her skin looked ashen. She kept licking her dry lips and looked years older.
"Ruva, what's wrong? What's wrong?" she repeated. "Come in." She led her friend to a chair.
"Let me open the windows." She almost tore up the sunburned curtains as she drew them back to let in light and fresh air. "Tell me, what's the matter?"
Ruva didn't want to give too much information, but just enough to let Shungu know that she needed help.
"I need your help. Please send for an ambulance. I need to go to Harare Hospital."
Ruva struggled to stand up. Shungu took her hand to help her but Ruva pulled it away. She leaned on the wall and took a deep breath.
Ruva looked down at her worn dress and noticed a bloodstain. "I'm going back home to get ready for the ambulance."
Shungu followed Ruva's movements and saw the big bloodstain on her dress. There was no need to ask any more questions, for the answer was right there in front of her.
"Okay, I'll send for an ambulance at the clinic. Billy will go, and that boy can fly like an eagle. Meanwhile, I'll come and stay with you in case you need help. Are the girls still sleeping?"
"Don't you worry, I'll manage. Yes, the girls are still sleeping. A hurricane can pass by, and they will sleep through it. At their age, I would be up bright and early and be in the fields before sunrise. They are lucky, for life is different in the city," said Ruva with her eyes closed as another severe cramp paralyzed her. The pain was so intense that she thought her belly was going to rip open. She cupped the lower part with both hands and turned around. She walked back with one hand holding on to the wire fence that divided their small properties. Sadly, the fence was falling apart and was sagging as she put extra weight on it.
This needs to be repaired, she thought. In her fragile condition, she had no choice but to desperately hang on to it until she got into her bathroom, which was outside the house.
Before the ambulance arrived, Ruva had cleaned herself up and put on a fresh and well-pressed dress. She sat on her veranda, waiting. Ruva had very little strength left, but when she saw the ambulance, she pulled herself up and steadied herself. Shungu carefully watched her as she held on to a pole that supported the flat roof of the veranda.
"Ruva, I'll help the girls!" Shungu waved to her as she was wheeled into the ambulance on a stretcher.
She was familiar with the process at the clinic. This was not her first time. The nurse took down a history of the problem and did a quick clinical assessment to ascertain her vital signs and condition. Ruva was feeling weaker and was experiencing fainting spells.
"We're going to transfer you to Harare General Hospital," the nurse said without explaining further. "Do you have anybody to accompany you?" She was already tidying up the examination room in readiness for the next patient.
"No. My husband left two days ago for Malawi, and I'm worried about him, but I've a friend who knows that I'm here. She is going to follow up with you later," Ruva said.
Harare General Hospital had been one of the two main referral centres for "blacks only" for as long as many could remember. It was a busy hub for the sick and it had overflowed with the dead and dying from the battlefields during the war.
Upon arriving at Harare Hospital, Ruva was seen by a young doctor who diagnosed an ectopic pregnancy. He explained what was happening, and dejectedly she realized the hopelessness of the situation. She recalled another doctor telling her that one of her Fallopian tubes was blocked, and she would never be able to conceive through that diseased tube.
"Please, do whatever you can to save my life for the sake of my two girls," she begged him. Because her voice was so faint, the doctor had to place his hand behind his ear and cup it to make out what she was saying.
"I'll do my best, ma'am," the doctor reassured her with a nod.
She did not answer, since she was getting weaker and more lethargic. Her condition was deteriorating, and she was rushed into the operating room for emergency surgery. The last thing Ruva remembered was the anaesthetist telling her that he was going to give her an injection to put her to sleep. The surgery went well, and she was taken to a gynecological ward for recovery. Ruva had a high pain threshold, and a day after surgery she was up and moving around to facilitate a speedy recovery. She talked with fellow patients regarding different ailments, and from those discussions, she discovered that ectopic pregnancy was a common occurrence and was one of the main causes of infertility in women. Not that it was comforting, but she became aware that there were many women in the same predicament as her who were also looking for real answers.
Ruva had been in the hospital for three days when her sixteen-year-old twins visited with Shungu.
Ruva was in a big, open ward and was in bed number 12. As she sat in her bed, she watched visitors coming in and out. She unexpectedly saw the twins and Shungu as she was carefully looking from side to side. She waved to draw their attention. The girls could not miss that enthusiastic wave and hurriedly moved towards her. The twins both hugged her at the same time. For a while, they didn't seem to know what to say, but they were obviously relieved to see their mother in good spirits and feeling better.
The twins relaxed and looked around at the various activities going on in the ward. Most of the doctors in the ward were white but serving a black patient pool.
"Are there any black doctors in this hospital?" asked Matie.
"They are not many, but I have seen one or two," said her mother.
"Matie, it's a good question. We should have black doctors stepping on each other's toes. Something is not right. I hope your generation is going to change that. Do you understand now why our children are in the bush, fighting?" Shungu sounded displeased, like many others who believed that inequality had no place in society. The girls looked fascinated by what Shungu was saying.
"Hospitals have a certain smell that I don't like," Hilda said, rubbing her nose up and down.
"Anyway, Mama, why didn't you tell us that you were going to hospital?" Matie said in an accusing tone.
"I was in bad shape, and I didn't want you to think the worst and worry unnecessarily."
"Now that you're in good shape, when are you coming home?" Matie asked, giggling with her hand covering her mouth.
"You're being silly, girl. I'm far from being in good shape." Ruva took Matie's hand and squeezed it. She cleared her throat. "Nevertheless, I'm feeling much better. It won't be long. I'll ask the doctor tomorrow when he comes in to see me. He usually does his rounds around seven in the morning. I'm missing you too, girls. This place can be depressing."
Shungu was compelled to quickly warn her friend. "Don't rush things. You have to be fully recovered before you can think of being discharged." She straightened Ruva's top blanket. "Everything is under control at home, and the girls are okay. Do you know when Mukai will be back from his trip?"
"I never know half the time." Ruva thought about it for a second. "My guess is it will be another two weeks before he is home. He was going to the northern part of Malawi. I've no clue where that is." She paused, anticipating one of the girls would help her out, but there was silence. "Each time he leaves home, I worry and always wonder if he'll come back home safely because of the war. He does not talk about it, but it's worrisome for me."
"Ruva, are these your twins?" A nurse placed her hands around their shoulders and shifting her eyes from one girl to the other, said, "Girls, you're so beautiful." Both girls smiled to acknowledge the compliment. The nurse moved on to another patient.
"Mama, have you been telling them about us?" Hilda asked.
"When one comes into the hospital, they take your family history, and that's when I told them that I have twin girls, and I also gave them your names. You're good girls, and I'm proud of you. I'm not ashamed to talk about you to anyone who can listen," she reassured them.
The girls left the hospital knowing that it would be a matter of days before their mother was home.
Ruva's recovery went smoothly, and after a week she was discharged. Gathering her belongings, she left hospital and started the long journey back home on foot, since she didn't have money for the bus. She arrived home tired and sweaty due to the blazing sun. She passed through Shungu's house to notify her of her return. She sat down on the little veranda, which mirrored hers, and asked for some water. Shungu brought the water in a big enamel jug, and Ruva gulped it down. After quenching her thirst, she got comfortable and dozed off.
Shungu let her be and went inside to continue with her sewing. She made children's clothes and sold them in the countryside to make ends meet. Her small business was not doing well, since it was affected by the war. Over time, she had built a clientele that paid her in small amounts on a monthly basis, but debt collection was difficult. At times, she was forced to confiscate something and in turn would go and sell it at the market. Her husband had died young of an unknown cause, and she worked hard to support her two boys, who did not have any recollection of him.
Ruva woke up rested, and she quietly left and walked to her house. She opened her door and the stuffiness prompted her to open all the windows to allow fresh air in. The walk from the hospital had aggravated the pain in her abdomen, and she went straight to bed to lie down.
The girls quietly opened the door to the house and peeped into their mother's bedroom. She heard their light and quick footsteps and said, "Come in, girls. I know you're there."
Matie was the first to come in, and with a wide, beaming smile, she said, "Welcome back, Mama. Finally, you are home. Are you okay now?"
Before Ruva could answer, Hilda enthusiastically added, "Hello, Mama, we missed you."
"I'm much better. I'll have to take it easy," Ruva said.
"What was wrong with you? I didn't want to ask you too many questions when you were in hospital," asked Matie, moving closer to her mother.
Ruva was caught by surprise but thought about it for a second and then decided there was nothing to hide. "I was bleeding," she said.
Matie rolled her eyes and said, "We also have our monthly woman's thing, but we don't get admitted into hospitals." They knew she was not being forthcoming. "We are old enough to understand." The girls knew what was wrong with her. They had overheard Shungu telling another lady from church about their mother's miscarriage.
"I know, I know, but I was bleeding profusely, for I had lost a baby, and they needed to do a small operation to stop the bleeding."
"It would have been good to have a little brother," said Hilda.
"Enough talk. Why don't you girls prepare something to eat? I'm tired and not feeling well enough to help. There isn't much around, but make the best of what we have."
When they left the room, Ruva reminded herself to count her blessings, for she had two healthy girls. But she could not help brooding over her loss.
* * *
Hilda went into their bedroom, straightened the covers, and picked things up from the floor. She was hoping that their mother had not seen their messy room. The girls shared a bed in a small, plain room, and the white paint that needed retouching made it look bigger than it actually was. Hanging on the wall opposite the window was an eight-by-five picture in an old frame taken on their baptism day. Below was an old dresser with drawers that could hardly close due to wear and tear. Next to their bed on Matie's side was an old trunk, which functioned as a bedside table. Ruva had borrowed Shungu's old machine and made green floral curtains to match the green-painted cement floor. She crocheted a green-and-white blanket, which they used as a bed cover, and it kept up with the colour scheme. Emerald green was the twins' favourite colour. The room was plain and simple but functional.
"Hilda, what are you doing there? We have to make dinner," shouted Matie, who was already looking in the cupboards for something to cook. There was some maize mealie meal for cooking sadza. They went out into the garden and pulled a few leaves of muriwo, which they fried. They made gravy with freshly picked tomatoes, onions, a bit of oil and a pinch of salt. They took dinner to their mother's room, but she asked if it was all right to eat in the living room where they always had dinner.
"There is no school tomorrow."
"It's only mid-week. What's happening?"
"There was bombing somewhere in the outskirts of the city and it's for precautionary measures," said Matie, who liked to listen to the news.
"We can sleep in," Hilda added.
"I hope they won't start bombing here in the townships," said Matie.
The war had been ferociously fought in the rural areas for a number of years. In 1978, those living in the cities were gripped with fear as the momentum gathered and threatened their very own backyards.
* * *
Ruva went to bed early. As she lay there thinking of her loss she felt sad and forlorn. She yearned for a son and could not imagine a life without the only assurance that would cement her marriage. Culturally, it was very important for her to have at least one son. It was more a cultural obligation than a personal desire. The doctor had confirmed that she could not have any more children because of the complications caused by the latest miscarriage.
(Continues...)
Excerpted from Not All Bid Farewell by Tracy M'Cwabeni. Copyright © 2013 Tracy M'Cwabeni. Excerpted by permission of iUniverse LLC.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
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