By
Obododimma Oha
African women are tough, very tough. One area where they exhibit this toughness is birth. There should be several stories about this already, but let me add my own. Maybe it will mean something to the narrative. Maybe. Another thing is my title, “The Cry at Birth.” Is it not somewhat like the title of J.P.Clark’s (J.P.Clark-Bekeederemo’s) poem, “Cry of Birth”? Here is the complete poem:
An echo of childhood stalks before me
like evening shadows on the earth,
rolling back into piquant memory
the anguished cry of my birth;
Out of the caverns of nativity
a voice, I little knew as my own
and thought to have shed with infancy,
returns with a sharpness before unknown.
Poor castaways to this darkling shore,
void out of the sea of eternity
and blind, we catch by reflex horror
an instant glimpse, the guilt of our see:
The souls of men are steeped in stupor
who, tenants upon this wild isle unblest,
sleep on, oblivious of its loud nightmare
with wanton motions bedeviling our breast.
All night, through its long reaches and black
I wander as lo, driven by strange passions,
within and out, and for gadfly have at my back
one harrowing shriek of pains and factions -
It comes ceaseless as from the wilderness
commingled with the vague cogitation
of the sea, its echo of despair and stress
precedes me like a shade to the horizon.
Talk of intertextuality! But the prepositions – “of” and “at” - - make a difference. You will soon see why this essayist is not saying “of.”
Now, my story. She attended a funeral in a nearby village where she joined other women from her village to dance energetically to the drums. It was the funeral of nwaada and the lively ụñara was necessary. But was she impervious of her condition? Didn’t she know her Effective Date of Delivery (EDD) or was it a stupid attempt at impressing the crowd? Well, who can tell.
But her labour started afterwards and she had to go home, actually, she had to walk home.
Back home, she sent for the village birth attendant who was luckily at home. But this birth attendant did not come right away. She had to go to the bush to collect the necessary herbs. So, the woman in labour had to start on her own. This tough African woman quickly boiled water, got some plantain leaves and spread them on the ground, laid down and started pushing. Of course, she carried out other procedures. The baby eventually came out, the navel cord around his neck.
The baby cried and cried and cried. You would think that it was the “cry of birth,” which culturally says that babies have to cry when they are born if they have to be able to talk later and not stay mute. So, the baby’s cry fulfilled that cultural expectation. But, scientifically, the cry is understandable: the baby has just left the comfort of the womb --- another context –and was pushed into another one! Who would not protest vehemently?
But, wait o. This particular baby cried and cried and cried at birth, Why? That naked fellow opened his eyes and saw that he had landed in one miserable postcolonial country in one miserable corner of the galaxy! Not in a hospital even. Just on plantain leaves. And he saw the terrible things forthcoming in that miserable corner of the universe, including the idiotic leaders and gullible followers and these pained him greatly. So, he cried and cried and cried at birth.
Anyway, we will look at his bitterness later in another discourse. But now, the tough African woman lying on the plantain leaves. Didn’t she finish up, even before the local birth attendant arrived? Yes, she did. All on her own. When the local birth attendant arrived, she was surprised to see the new arrival already sucking breast to stop crying! Well, she only tidied up and went back.
I think it was the kind of life that they live and the type of food that they eat. But one has to learn to make do with the resources available instead of sitting there and lamenting. Tough African women teach us a great lesson. Yes, they are surrounded by risks and life itself is very risky. But they help themselves and push out people who just have to stop crying and do something to help themselves.
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