When I walked into the long rectangular room for the first time, I knew the experience would leave a lasting memory, what I didn't know was what it would taste like. I wrapped a strong right arm around Nneka's waist, using my shoulder to keep her on her feet while a bag containing clothes and a few items as required hung onto my left. The woman in white pointed towards 2 empty bed spaces and beckoned my pick, since no one seemed to notice my entrance as usual, I picked the first bed on the other row of beds facing the door and we went ahead to settle in.
The environment was a familiar one, I had spent my formative years waking up on these type of beds with mates, save for the expectant faces nothing seemed new. The woman in white had looked towards the only empty bed in the room and grabbed a dirty bed spread on it, she asked us to make do with it while she gets a fresh one, though this was a fat lie, I immediately unzipped our bag and told her we came prepared. In no time, I had dressed the bed and Nneka collapsed on it, she was restless, I kept calming her down until an elderly woman managed to notice our presence and asked me to massage her waist up till the back of her neck, which I did obediently.
Another woman in white walked into this smelly maternity ward of the Public hospital in my area and announced a name, the bearer indicated, carried a bag and joyously ran after her, he returned moments later, carrying a 3.4kg bundle and announced it was yet another girl. This news threw the ward into a frenzy and like one big family, everyone seemed to contribute in good words or prayers, I even forgot the distressed Nneka as I looked on, hoping to catch the sight of the newly born.
Phones began to ring, our population increased, the hero of the moment staggered in to a rowdy welcome and I wondered if the women in white wouldn't come to our rescue as she received accolades. The next thirty minutes was dedicated to them before God intervened and they packed their bags to leave. As the new hero passed by our bed, she dropped a word of advice and prophesied with authority that Nneka would smile at the end of it all.
When I met Nneka for the first time, she had just lost both parents and was admitted into St. Louis. She was probably still too young to grieve but always kept to herself at that tender age of 4, many thought she was dumb but I admired her. I was the only child abandoned by my parents unlike the other children that had lost theirs, they made a mockery of my plight so I spent most of my time fantasizing a reunion with my parents rather than play with the other Children, this attracted Nneka to me. We spent most of our free time together until she was adopted by the Mbakas 14 years later, few months before we wrote the WASSCE, this motivated my exit from the home. Our wedding was a quiet one, we couldn't afford the flamboyance but in reality, we didn't want noise and we didn't even have friends.
The next hero came in and the same drill ensued except that this time I was tensed and forced to offer my congratulations. Nneka took time to blend in but once we did, it felt like we've always been part of this family especially when we disclosed we were first timers.
The sun that was directly over our heads when we arrived, had settled towards the west leaving behind a dark cloud that smiled at me vie a crescent. The long hand of the clock struck 12 and completely covered its counterpart, someone announced the beginning of a new day. My newly found family had witnessed a massive change, the faces and our location were new, we the escorts had been asked to leave the patients for the women in white so we perched outside the ward on benches, mats and cartons, competing with mosquitoes for comfort. I was becoming an elder in the family saddled with the responsibility of announcing the gender.
Nneka called me on phone, she was pressed, I was waiting on her by the door as she shifted the bolts. An angry woman in white scolded her for opening the door, Nneka explained that she had to wee, the woman in white registered her displeasure with foul language, Nneka had heard worse, she just held my arms, dragged me away, begging me not to confront the woman.
The toilets in the hospital were in a sorry state, we were used to open defecation at the home, even at that time of the night we didn't think otherwise. With the aid of my phone's flashlight facility, we marched our way into a shrub behind one of the dilapidated structure in the hospital, this is where Nneka half squatted and emptied her bowels.
We returned 20 minutes later to be greeted with the shock of our life. Mr. Hassan was standing at the door before an inquisitive congregation, he objected defiantly to the demands of his audience, he gave them a condition and ratified a rule, I was taken aback. I've never been this honored in my life as we approached this congregation, some members of my new family rushed towards us shouting that I had been found and I should hurry to the podium. Mr. Hassan had insisted that only the elder of this family reserves the sole right to announce the gender of his newly born and that elder, irrespective of my young age, was my humble self.
The long hand of the clock was approaching 6 while it's counterpart waited on to point directly at number 5. This was 4 hours after a boy was added to Nigeria population, 3 hours after Mr. Hassan allowed the rest of my new family have a night rest, 2 hours after Nneka began to pace about in distress and 1 minute after a woman in white took her into the labor room. As an elder in our new family, I couldn't be found pacing about in anticipation, I just sat on Nneka's bed, surrounded by well wishers. While the men teased me for my facial expression that had fear written all over it, the women assured me that all was well, telling stories of their first experiences, no doubt, I was beginning to cope.
Moments later, I heard a foreign language blaring from speakers from a distance, 2 members of my family stood up almost immediately and went out of the ward, one of us explained to the rest of us that they were answering to the call for prayers and that most Muslims don't understand Arabic language yet they worship with it. I wondered for the umpteenth time why any non Arabic speaker would even consider accepting Islam rather than giving their life to Christ as their saviour. I suddenly admired my people and gladly added to our conversation that Ibos don't follow blindly, someone countered my claims and told us they were Ibo muslims, we were stunned.
Something unusual happened, a man in white rushed into our ward and proceeded to the labor room, 2 women in white tagged along, holding several medical items, one woman in white rushed out of the labor room with white gloves that had turned red, we heared a male voice yell at probably one of the women in white who rushed out of the labor room and out of the maternity ward, she was holding a bunch of keys. Members of my new family began to pray, silently at first then loudly. The 2 Muslims returned to be greeted with a tensed environment, without asking questions, they joined in the prayers in that Arabic language again, I was tempted to ask for a translation. The woman in white with the bunch of keys returned with several items and another elderly woman also in white, they zoomed passed us shooting their way into the labor room.
We sat there pop eyed as the man in white came out of the labor room with a file, the older woman in white met him and they walked towards a window at the far end of the Women in white's station. I saw the man shook his head as the older woman in white tried to explain something, 2 women in green wheeled in a stretcher, passed my new family at the maternity ward and entered the labor room, one of the woman in white announced my name and I indicated with shaky hands, I was directed towards the man in white who had found a table and chair and made an office out of it.
My new family offset all my hospital bills and credited my account with more money than I've ever earned in my 24 years of existence. Mr. Hassan returned to the hospital that day and offered me a job with a multinational company that paid 3 times higher than the National minimum wage. He further advised that Nneka and our baby be buried beside each other in the evening, rather than subjecting their lifeless body to the mortuary.
