Speedy Delivery

We're here in Yaoundé for a few days. It’s time to get a couple things done while having internet access and maybe do some shopping while in the Big City. And, of course, time to just relax a bit from the demands and such of bush life. So, Friday morning we drive to the ERC (Educational Resource Center) to take back some of the children's books we had borrowed and pick up a few more. As we pile out of the truck and gather our books to return, a man sitting close by says he has a question for me. As Laurel starts to walk down the hill past the first few buildings to get to the ERC, I start to talk with the man. There are three people there: the man, a groaning, pregnant woman (His wife) and the guard for the compound that contains the ERC. The man tells me that he and his wife need help because they are from Central Africa, he just had surgery and can't walk and she is sick. I asked her how many months pregnant she was; she said "8."

[break in story: note that we have to always be careful when asked for "favors" since 1) we are asked so often that they can take up every day and not leave us time for the things we need to do and 2) many times the folks who ask can get by in their normal fashion with the help of their families, etc. and they just ask us because of our white skin and their thinking that all whites are extremely wealthy.]

I told him that I couldn't just leave my family there and that besides; I didn't know where any hospitals were in the city since I live in the East Province and don't know Yaoundé very well. They tell me that there is a clinic very, very close and that they just want me to give her a ride. I said "OK" and started to walk down to tell Laurel but realized that that short walk would take just as long as the short drive and the woman did seem "sick." So, we helped her get into the back seat of the truck (in the one open space on the driver's side - there were two car seats taking up the rest of the back seat). The guard opened the gate and got into the front seat. The husband stayed behind. We drove the two miles to the clinic. It looks closed and the guard gets out to be sure. I ask the woman how she was and she said "It's coming." I turned around to find her scooted up/leaned back in the seat and I saw the baby's head starting to protrude. I yelled at the guard to get in quick - we had to go. He asked "to the hospital?" I said "No, it's coming right now!" So, we raced right back to where we started from (the ERC compound) and as the guard jumped out to open the gate I turned to see how the woman was doing. She was holding her newborn baby boy. So, we parked and I tried to assess (in my limited medical expertise) the situation. Seeing the color of the baby I asked "How many babies have you had?" This was her eighth. I said "I don't know what black babies are supposed to look like - is the baby's color normal?" She said "Yes." So, I talked her through what we needed to do and what we didn't need to do (the folks here have a tendency to want to rush the placenta by pulling on the cord to get it out).

While waiting for the placenta to come I thought I should go tell Laurel what was taking me so long. I walked into the ERC and the librarian asked me how I was doing... I said "interesting…a woman just gave birth in the back of our truck”. You can imagine how startled Laurel was to hear that!

In the end they called some other folks they knew who came to transport them to the hospital and we wrapped the baby and placenta up together, said our good-byes, piled all of us in the front seat (because of the bloody mess in the back seat!) and left to get our truck washed out.

PS - (This is Laurel's comment) Now re-read this story with the image of Kemi, our monkey, sitting on Nathan's shoulder the whole time! Don’t I wish I had brought the camera!

Here's our muddy, bloody truck...the kids weren't even phased at all. When Nathan asked Nandry if she thought it was neat that a baby was born in the back seat of the truck her reply was, "Not really, babies are born all the time."