Adelaide
It’s an incredibly starry night.
He’s going so fast, I have to hold on tight.
The wind rushes past to either side of his massive form.
His torso is so huge, I almost can’t fully wrap my arms around him. I’ve hooked my hands into his belt. Under my arms, I can feel his tense muscles bulging and as hard as rocks.
Under different circumstances, I would put my head against his immense back, let the wind tug at my hair, and enjoy the ride under the stars. But this is no joyride, and I have to direct Ford to the village.
When I stick my head out, the wind forces the air deep into my lungs, and I can’t breathe.
Paired with my hands nearly in Ford’s lap, excitement prickles all over my body.
No time for selfish pleasure.
I spot the turn-off and hammer my fist against Ford’s thigh, then point out where we need to go. No use talking over the wind.
He hugs the turn tightly, hardly slowing down. My stomach drops, and I hang on for dear life. At the same time, I feel elated, and blood rushes to my head.
If only we could ride like this for longer.
As we enter the village, Ford finally shifts the motorbike into low gear, and we roll between the huts. It’s dark, but there’s no way we’ll make a mistake about our destination. A light is on in a single hut, and a woman’s painful scream pierces the night.
Shani.
My friend’s suffering makes me cringe, and I jump off the motorcycle before we even come to a full stop. Ford puts up the kickstand while I yank the bags.
“Easy, doc,” he says and helps me release them, taking one of them.
He’s all calm and collected. Obviously, the nighttime ride hasn’t had the same effect on him as it had on me. He must be used to far greater thrills.
Then again, I’m the one who got all flustered with my body pressed against this man-shaped mountain. He probably felt nothing.
I take a deep breath and enter Shani’s hut. To my surprise, Ford steps right behind me instead of standing by the door.
An old woman is trying to console my friend, who’s deeply in pain with labor.
“Daktari!” the woman exclaims, her smile lighting up the dim insides of the hut.
“Adelaide!” Shani extends one arm, and I take her hand. Immediately, she squeezes it hard as a new contraction comes on. “Ugh!” She winces.
I run my hand along her cheek then switch to work mode.
I want to tell Ford to leave, tell him he has no business inside the hut and will only get in the way. But he has already propped up and opened both bags, so all my supplies are ready and easily accessible.
So I give him a short, approving nod instead.
“Right,” I say, “Time to scrub in.”
I take out the disinfectant and clean my hands and forearms in preparation. In this environment, it’s important to avoid germs and infections to keep the mother and the baby safe.
Ford squats down next to me and begins disinfecting his own hands.
“What are you doing?” I hiss. “Don’t waste medical supplies. If you’re putting on those gloves, you better be prepared to use your hands in helping. Otherwise, stay out of this!”
“Look,” he says calmly. “You’re here without a nurse. I sure have no training, but I’ll do exactly what you’ll tell me to do.”
I give him a doubtful look.
“You only have two hands. Four are better. In case you need me, isn’t it better if I’m prepared already?”
He’s right, as much as I don’t want to admit it. I’m indeed a little worried about the absence of my nurse and about my friend Shani.
There’s no time to argue, so I motion for him to continue what he was doing.
While he finishes scrubbing in, I check on Shani.
“Breathe,” I say and show her how to control her breathing.
She’s very dilated already, but she’s much too cramped. Her hands are grabbing the blanket she’s lying on.
I gently feel for the baby. Shani’s water just broke before we got here.
“We’re just in time,” I tell Ford. “Thanks for getting us here so quickly.”
He doesn’t know where to look, so he gives the mother a brief smile. He’s put on a head torch to help him see.
He vaguely resembles a doctor. A very handsome, muscular, and bearded doctor.
“Male nurse?” Shani presses out between tight lips.
Bodyguard, I want to reply, but decide against it.
“Long story,” I simply say.
The old woman surprises everyone when she speaks up.
“Mgeni.”
Suitor. Damn, word travels faster than wildfire.
Shani arches her back in pain as another contraction hits.
“Owww!” she screams. The old woman wipes her brow. As fast as her contractions are coming, the baby’s well on its way.
I hold her hand and support her hips, quickly massaging her cramping muscles. I’m this close to giving her an epidural anesthetic and muscle relaxant, but I’m holding back. I don’t want her to think that something’s wrong.
“Breathe, Shani,” I say.
She’s huffing and puffing, trying to get her breath under control.
“Ford!” I snap my fingers, and he stands at attention.
“When the baby’s head shows, I want you to grab it—gently, like this,” and I indicate how to cradle it.
He nods but looks puzzled.
Shani has her knees up, and a blanket covers her vagina.
Oh, Ford! Now I understand the problem.
“Don’t worry,” I tell him. “It’s okay. I’ll tell you when.”
He places his hands at the ready.
I massage Shani some more. When she scrunches up her face in pain again, I yell, “Push!”
“Argh!” Shani cries out.
I peek under the blanket.
“Now, Ford!”
He reaches in with a look of sheer concentration. I swear, the tip of his tongue is showing in the corner of his mouth.
“Got it!”
“Great,” I say, panting myself.
“Now, when she pushes, gently pull, like this. Be ever so careful with the head.”
“Affirmative, doc,” he says.
I smile at him. Shani howls again.
“Push!”
I look at Ford, who’s moving his hands. But his face goes from puzzled to worried.
“What’s wrong?”
“The baby…it appears to be stuck.”
“Hold her hand.”
We quickly swap positions, and Ford gently takes Shani’s hand.
“Breathe,” he tries to reassure her and actually breathes with her.
Amazingly, he’s right.
The baby’s shoulder has lodged itself in the way. The head is already out, and because Shani is cramping, the baby has trouble getting air.
I have to act quickly.
I reach in and try to move the shoulder, but it won’t budge.
It’s important we get the baby out fast so it can breathe.
I have seconds to make a decision. The logical solution to the problem is a C-section.
I bend over the supplies and take out a scalpel. But when I’m about to peel off the wrapper, Ford’s hand is on mine.
“You cut her open, you risk infection in these surroundings.”
“I know that,” I shoot back. “But the baby’s stuck, and we have to act. You’re wasting time.”
“Just think for a sec. Go back to your training. What would a nurse do?”
“You’re the nurse here,” I snap, “What would you do?
Ouch. That was unprofessional, and I immediately regret having said it. But Ford keeps his cool.
“It’s a mechanical problem,” he says.
“So?”
“Flip her over.”
“What?” I say, but in a flash, I see he’s right. Again.
Damn it, but this could work.
I drop the scalpel and stand.
“Shani,” I say with as much calm as I can muster. “Get on your hands and knees, like this.” And I show her how.
She looks at me questioningly but doesn’t resist.
“Relax,” I say and massage her more.
She shudders with the onset of the next contraction.
“Push as hard as you can!” I yell.
Shani gives it everything she’s got.
“It’s moving,” Ford shouts.
Then suddenly, he holds the baby in his giant hands.
He looks triumphant and surprised, like a football player who’s caught an impossible pass.
I cut the umbilical cord, and Shani collapses due to exhaustion.
Ford holds the baby up in the light of his head torch.
“It’s a boy!” he bellows.
An arch of liquid shoots out and hits him in the face.
“What the…?”
The old woman, and I have to laugh as he stands there with his face dripping.
“It’s his first piss,” I explain. “They say it brings best of luck to the recipient.”
“Well, then…” Ford mumbles.
I take the baby from him and check his vitals. He’s healthy and well, wailing loudly. I gently place him in Shani’s arms.
“Thank you, doctor,” the two women say kindly.
“Thank the male nurse,” I say and point to Ford.
He’s still riding the high of the experience and beams at me proudly. He leans forward to give me a big bear hug.
“Careful, big guy,” I say, “You’re squeezing my tears out.”
I’m happy and relieved that my friend and her baby boy are both well, and that the birth is over.
Not for the first time, I thank my brother silently. If it hadn’t been for him…
My eyes find Ford’s, and for that moment, I think we understand each other without words.
I sigh. Why can’t it always be like this between us?