Gone baby

Five o'clock in the afternoon. And I still had not taken breakfast, neither lunch. I was seated at The Jocham hospital reception lounge. Praying, hopes low and also knowing the worst could also happen. Leila, my sweetheart, was still in the room with doctors and no one else was allowed in. I was called at nine thirty in the morning by Leila's sister, Tatu, when they started suspecting there's a problem with her pregnancy. It didn't take long to arrive. Ratna square was fifteen minutes away from the hospital and it was a Sunday. I saw both Tatu and their mum at the reception.

I met Leila a year ago at Mombasa beach. She and Tatu were eating cassava chips while seated on the white beach sand.. I hadn't even seen them. I was strolling across the beach inhaling the salty humid air while looking at the playful swimmers in the ocean, and occasionally stopping to watch guys playing beach football. “Hey, Hensam boy!” Tatu called me and offered me their snacks. I accepted, then she requested that I sit with them. I asked if her sister talks, and she asked me if I'm attracted to her sister. I smiled, then I steered the conversation to a different direction. She told me they lived in Bakarani, their father died five years ago and their mum and two elder brothers are doing their best to hold the little family together. They, the girls, kept themselves busy in small scale businesses like selling Mabuyu and fried potatoes in their area.

At one o'clock, Tatu and her mum said they are going home to prepare lunch to bring to the patient and clean clothes for changing. They said the will bring me some too. It wasn't so much boring at the hospital lounge. Every ten minutes new patients came in to request to see a doctor. One person was brought by an ambulance then a stretcher was used to hurry him to the intensive care unit. He had blood all over his face. Later I learnt that he was a bodaboda driver and his motorcycle collided with another. I heard loud cries of young boys from the heinjection room and most times doctors and nurses were in a hurry oscillating between their offices and emergency rooms.

At two thirty, a doctor came to the reception area and called out “Leila Yusuf.” I stood up and told him I was her boyfriend. He winced and before he could say anything I added that I was the child's father, the one she is expecting. The doctor allowed and took me to see her. She was in I.C.U, couldn't talk or see me. I stared at her behind the glass window. I asked the doctor what was wrong? He nodded sadly then said: I will explain to you in a language you will understand. There's breathing complications, it seems the Placenta of Leila got an infection which brought about this complication. She passed out and we put her on breathing aid because she is also asthmatic. We have made her sleep sideways by her ribs because that position seems to help the baby's breathing.

I stood there watching at her wishing I could do something to make her stand up and be well instantly. I remembered how Tatu helped me win her. At first I though it was Tatu who had fallen for me but it turned out that she was acting carefree to win a boy for her shy sister. I didn't have a problem with that because when I thought of the tenderness I felt holding her hand while greeting, and the shyness, and the fact that she was built with alluring curves, drew me closer to her. We talked every night over the phone and I we saw each other every weekend. I had to work during weekdays so we couldn't see each other everyday.

Six months after our relationship, she broke the news to me. She was pregnant. I wasn't surprised and I accepted responsibility. We talked about getting married and living together. Having an illegitimate child was frowned upon in both our families. The one thing which we disagreed so much on was that she wanted us to live with her family after marriage. She said she was so attached to them and she doesn't want to be apart from them. I also wanted to take her to live with my family. I had not broken these news to my family and none of them knew of this strawberry affair.

At five forty five, her mum, Tatu, and the two brothers arrived. They all saw Leila through the glass window and Doctor said they could not feed her the rice and beef stew they brought. The doctor assured us that she was not hungry since food was passed on to her by some pipe through her nose. We went to reception area to wait. Everyone's head was down. Thinking and praying for Leila. The baby had another month to be due. The fact that it was hectic and other patients were rushed in and out of emergency rooms did not give me a relief that my girl was in a better condition than them. I dint like hospitals so much. I only came when I'm sick or visiting relatives and friends. There is this distinct smell of medicine in hospitals which makes me feel sick whenever I'm there.

At seven fifteen, she was up. But she was in great pains. The doctor came to tell us that they had transferred her to maternity ward since she was doing better with the breathing. He told us we had only five minutes to see her and get out of the ward for them to proceed with their work. They had given her some medicine to make her deliver early since it was not in the interest of the unborn child to stay in the womb. As she saw her mum and sisters and brothers, tears dripped down from her eyes. Her mum asked her how she was feeling and she only replied, “Pray for me.”

Ten minutes were gone and the doctor and two nurses told us to get out. Leila held my hand firmly and I looked at her, then at the doctor. The Doctor nodded that I could stay. The nurses asked her to keep her legs wide open and they coached her to breath in a special pattern. I remained on the head side of the bed and I must say some fear embarked inside me. I could somehow feel the pain that she felt. The doctor kept asking her to push and she seemed very tired and sweat was dripping down her face like she was from taking a bath. Now she was crying saying she couldn't do it any longer. There was a machine that started beeping which changed the nurses' faces. But the doctor cried “one last push, one last push.” and it made me drowsy and hate him.

At the blink of an eye, I saw the doctor carrying out a baby. One of the nurses cut the umbilical cord and the doctor put the baby in a mobile cot and was taken away. He told me the baby girl was taken to a nursery and she will be safe there. I kept holding Leila's hand who had passed out in the process. The doctors and nurses looked at me sadly, then turned their attention to the machine. The machine that was blinking had stopped. It gave out a flat continuous sound. I looked at Leila's face and found out she was not breathing. The doctor told me to let go off her hand so that they can rush her to ICU and try to save her. I went to tell Leila's family about the good news and bad news. And we could do nothing other than wait at the nursery looking at the baby girl.

She was a cute girl. She had stopped crying and was silently asleep. At about half past eight, the doctor came and gave us piercing painful news. They had pronounced Leila dead at 8:23pm. Tatu and her mum broke into an emotional cry. I couldn't believe it. I was left staring at the hospital clock hanging up on the wall. Leila was no more. My heart was broken at her departure. After half an hour the cries cooled down. The brothers decided Leila will be buried tomorrow after noon prayers. The doctor said after three days the baby will not be in danger and she could be taken. We discussed and agreed that Tatu will take care of the baby girl, and raise her. I would be helping financially.

I started for home after hospital administrative procedures and payments were done. Reached Ratna square at a quarter past ten at night. My family was watching a soap opera on TV. and I joined them. After some minutes they asked why I was so quiet and seemed lost? For some seconds, i thought of telling them. But then I decided to keep it to myself. It was better this way, that they don't know I have a child somewhere.