All Just Part of a Woman’s Day: Haircut, Brunch, Shopping … and Child Birth!

So, the weekend arrived after a weeklong workshop for approximately 30 Mpolonjeni caregivers exploring child protection and safeguarding. And thoughts turned to a little ‘me’ time. Maybe a little selfish but after six months in Swaziland, I thought it was about time I had my haircut!

Not long after 8am, Erica, Makala and I set off for Ezulwini. My hair appointment was relatively smooth, even if it did feel a little like I was on a conveyor belt. With my trimmed barnet, I went off to meet Erica in Mugg and Bean – the SA/Swaziland equivalent of Costa! – while Makala remained in the hair salon for the next three hours.

True, Makala was having her hair coloured so naturally her appointment would be longer, but really, almost 4 hours in total? In the time, Makala was having her hair coloured, the hairdresser attending to her cut eight the hair of eight other people… and asked Makala to brush and blow dry her own hair!

While Makala patiently and politely waited, Erica and I popped down to the local handicraft market – a squared off horseshoe of stall after stall selling virtually the same thing. When we arrived, we were the only ‘shoppers’ – or more accurately, window shoppers – but just as we left a coach full of tourists pulled on to the gravel car park.

Before that though, Erica and I were greeted at every stall with, “Hello, how are you?” to which we responded, “Fine, thank you, How are you?” The conversation generally moved in the same direction with the stallholder saying “Please have a look. Free to look. Sale today. I will make good price for you” and our repeated response was “Just looking today. We live in Swaziland so we will be back to buy another day.”

One conversation progressed a little further and the Swazi ‘boti’ asked when he could take me to meet his mother. At first, I smiled and jested a little, but his request for a date he could introduce me to his mother became rather persistent. I responded by commenting that my boyfriend would not like that, and very helpfully, Erica jested ‘Oh, but he is in the UK!” Boti then said “It’s okay, he is in another country, he will not know.”

Back at the hair salon, Makala was finally finished.

Brunch had became lunch (with desert), and late morning/lunchtime shopping at Manzini market became early afternoon shopping. Cloth was procured for dresses to be made and naturally, shoes also bought,

Driving back to Mbabane for a quiet afternoon before our respective evening plans. Makala’s phone rings. It’s Mehuili, father to the child she sponsors and husband to the family she and her parents have been supporting. He is calling to ask her to come and attend to his wife, Temba, because us is going on to labour. Makala imagines he is quiet concerned as he lost his previous wife to childbirth.

After a short drive down a dirt track, we arrive at the family’s house. Not having met the family before, Erica and I remain in the car while Makala goes into the family’s home. A short while later, Makala emerges with Temba, a very small, deceptively pregnant lady.

Makala later explains that Babe (Mehuli), who is generally a hands-on engaged father, laid on the bed reading the newspaper while Temba packs a bag for the hospital. Before she leaves, he looks up and says to Temba, call me when you are bringing baby home.

Temba sits in the back of the Landcruiser with Makala, and we being the 30 minutes plus drive to Government Hospital. Virtually, no time after having set off, Temba comments that she is ‘leaking water’. We all quietly and independently realise her Temba’s waters have already broken.

Only a few moments into the drive, Temba becomes more agitated and restless. As I join the freeway, Temba stands to remove her knickers and says to Makala, I need to push. What happens next is all of a blur, but within minutes the baby was born.

What I do remember from this point is: Erica saying to pull over, Makala telling me to drive whilst remaining calm and supportive to Temba, Erica trying to use my phone to call an ‘expat’ friend with medical advice, me trying to drive as quickly as I can to the hospital being extra cautious of bends and speed bumps as the baby lays on the floor between the front and rear seats.

Arriving at the hospital, Temba and baby remained in car while Makala ran into the maternity ward to find help. Eventually, she found the single midwife on duty, who told Makala to go find a wheelchair – her second hunt in the Government Hospital in less that five minutes. The midwife came to the car, cut he umbilical cord and took baby inside leaving us to help Temba out of the car and take her into the hospital. Before sitting in the wheelchair, Temba stuffed umbilical cord back inside her.

Up until this point, none of us had considered the HIV risk to ourselves, so some reading this may think the three of us are stupid; we live in Africa, and not just Africa, Swaziland, the country with the highest HIV rates in the world. But we didn’t think, events occurred super quickly and adrenalin kicked in.

As we stood in the hospital car park, the enormity of what just happened began to sink in and adrenalin became shock, concern and I don’t know what. It was a surreal time; we were still trying to ‘hold it together’ as we still had ‘stuff’ to sort.

We asked the midwife where could wash our hands and if she had gloves, so we could begin to clean up ourselves, or things and the car. The midwife took us to sink in the admissions room, where sat dirty surgical scissors, to wash our hands, before giving us some gloves. Before handing over the gloves, the midwife asked Malaka, ‘did you know cover the car in plastic to protect it?’ and then noticing her shock, asked “have you not seen a baby before?’

Naturally, we sought to find out Temba’s HIV status but for confidentiality reasons, the midwife was unable to tell us. Nevertheless she advised us to visit the OPD (Out Patient Department) and speak to an Exposure Counselor, and rightly so, given 43% of pregnant mothers in Swaziland are HIV positive.

Still in a state of shock and therefore ‘just’ following instructions, rather than thinking, we headed to OPD. Once we entered the rather tired, run down building with a strong stench of bodily fluids, I searched for a reception – or at least, someone we could report to. There was no one so I approached one of the security guards, and asked Babe who we needed to speak to. A nurse approached us, and I briefly explained what had happened and that we needed to seek an Exposure Counselor. The nurse looked at me blankly for a while, and then said there was no one available now. I asked when there would be someone available, to which the nurse responded maybe later and I then asked the nurse to find out. We waited a while for the nurse to return with hopefully more helpful information.

As we waited, a car pulled up to the double doors of the OPD. The car doors we opened, and we could hear crying and whaling from the passengers inside. The boot of the car was opened, and a body dragged out. Once on a stretcher, the deceased was rushed past us.

It was at that point, it dawned on us where we were: the OPD at the Government Hospital! We decided to make a hasty departure.

Our attention turned to the other things we needed to do and we headed to Pick’n’Pay to buy supplies for mum and baby. We needed to find nappies, clothes and a blanket for baby, food for mum and more – because the hospital has nothing to give mothers or that mothers can buy, not even the basics. Although we knew it was dark, we had lost track of time, and Pick’n’Pay was closed. We managed to find one or two things in a corner shop and returned to the hospital with what we had.

The next ‘thing’ our attention turned to was cleaning the car. We tried to identify professional, medical cleaning companies through the private Mbabane Clinic and Trauma Link (paramedic service). No such luck. We then tried the car washes around town, and one could help us tonight. One offered us an appointment in the morning, but our concern then was thar the blood would have dried making cleaning more difficult.

Back home, after explaining the events to my very calm and supportive managers (who own the soiled Landcrusier), we began cleaning the car. Wearing rubber gloves, we mopped up as much of the excess, wet blood as we could and then began scrubbing. The scrubbing continued for a further couple of days. The is huge improvement, but a remaining pink tint to the grey carpet!

Temba has also birthed over Makala’s handbag and its contents. Our next task was to empty the bag, through away identities that could be easily replaced (e.g. lip salve, hair brush) before cleaning and disinfecting her phone and my camera.

Finally, we had a chance to breath and begin to reflect on the day’s events.

I drove Erica and then Makala home. As we were chatting outside Makala’s house, the ‘magic’ of the birth began to sink in for Makala and she commented on how special it was to see the baby emerge. She then said she would always remember seeing the baby’s little feet. I very quickly responded with “Feet? “ The baby was breach, and we realised how lucky we were. An unsmooth or difficult labour does not bear thinking about given we were in moving car and the most medical experience the three of us had between us was basic first aid!

Sunday arrived, and our first task, after checking on each other’s emotional well-being, was to finishing shopping baby supplies. We then headed to the hospital to see Temba and the baby, and give them what they needed.

When we arrived at the hospital, we were escorted by a female security guard as we sought to find the ward where Temba was. We asked about the reason for the escort and we were told it was because white ladies steal babies.

We came to the ward where Temba and baby were staying and were shown in. Between the public hallway and the main, large wardroom, there was a smaller ward with one bed to our left and one to our right. What we witnessed demonstrated again what undignified place the Government Hospital is: there was a pregnant lady, fully naked, bent over a hospital bed having a catheter inserted. There was no curtain or screen, and not even an attempt at giving the lady any privacy.

Temba was allowed to leave with baby, so Makala and I walked with them to reception, where Temba would collect baby’s health card and pay the hospital fee. The fee, which ‘covered’ a night at the Government Hospital and medical attention was E50 (£2.70) – less than a speeding ticket in Swaziland!

We drove proud mum and baby home, and found just how very traditional this family was.

It was explained to us that normally, after birth mum and baby would move in to the home of another female family member for the first six weeks after the baby is born. During this time the father has no contact with the mother or the baby, because the mother was ‘dirty’ from child birth’.

Temba has no extended family, who can offer her and the baby anywhere to stay, so she, baby and her other six daughters will be sleeping in one room while Babe (father) sleeps in the family room.

While we were at the house, the father did not look at, or show any interest in the new baby, and he barely acknowledged his wife.

Swazi people we have spoken to have since last Saturday’s events are very surprised that mother and baby are still alive. They have also commented that had she been in a kombi – the only option open to her at we not been able to help – the kombi driver would have left her by the side of the road when she began to give birth.

BUT, the main thing, mother and baby are healthy and doing well!