#angeltotherescue

I had to be home by 10pm last night. This man Besigye was going to be on two screens and I didn't want to miss the action. I ended up watching the screen where he was sitting on a high chair, surrounded by a number of people, two of them his sworn adversaries. And whenever he made a point, he would quake with laughter, even if no-one else was laughing. The show didn't disappoint.

At midnight I felt I’d had enough, and started getting ready for bed because I had an early morning. As I ran my bath, there was a loud knock on the Mansion’s front door. It sounded urgent. I was alarmed. Who could be knocking at this ungodly hour? The Poooolice (like Besigye calls them)? Had they heard me shouting “Otyo!", as the good doctor went on and on about his being-snatched-off-an-airplane ordeal? Was it Ma Lihanna’s maid again? I had already had my fill of drama for the week. I didn't need any more.

“Who is it?” I asked cautiously from behind the closed door.
“Neighbor!” came the male voice.  It didn't sound familiar at all. I remained quiet.

He rapped loudly again. It was either that or... I threw all caution to the wind, and unlocked the door.

He reminded me that his name was Gata. He had a problem and needed my help. At half past midnight? I rolled my eyes. Now what?

Gata started gesticulating wildly, showing me his wallet. “Money, I have money. We go.”
We go where? Kati, me I was so lost. What was a drunk doing on my doorstep?
“Wife. Wife.” He was making the sign of a swollen tummy. Waving the wallet in one hand and making the sign of big stomach with the other at the same time. My mind was beginning to clear.

“It is there! There!” He pointed to a dark spot in the compound, near the wall. I could make out a figure. Bent over. In obvious pain. It must be the Madam.

I remembered my encounter with her. When I had cautioned her that this was not the old Uganda where women slapped anyone’s kid. She had jeered at me when I told her she could be taken to the police. Maybe that's what they did in South Sudan.

She whimpered softly as he called to her to draw nearer. This was a woman in labour. Advanced.

I grabbed my handbag and opened the car. She slid into the back seat. Her face was scrunched in suffering. There was a second woman wrapped in something that looked like plenty of sheets. Gata jumped into the front seat next to me.

The car clock showed 00:34. I kicked the accelerator.  Angel to the rescue. Ambulance driver. Super Woman.

When we got to the main road, I asked Gata what direction we should take. He gestured towards Kasangati. As we approached the Shell fuel station, he tapped my arm hard. The wallet was back in his hand. “Money! Money!”

I ignored him. My immediate concern was where we were going because the whimpering had risen to a crescendo.

After a series of wrong turns and nearly reversing into a row of shops, Gata tapped my hand again and made a thumbs up sign. “It is here.”

By this time, the Madam was lying in a contorted position I had never imagined could fit in that back seat. Her right arm was pulling down on Gata’s backrest as she groaned and tried to rub her back with the other. Bannange!

I drove down the dirt road like there were a thousand wild dogs after me. And also hoping that Gata had finally got the road right otherwise…

Suddenly Gata shouted, “Here. Here. Now!!” and I braked suddenly.

Madam was now in the yelling phase. In a tongue that I have never heard. I feared that the baby had come.

Gata had already flung open the back door and was pulling her out of the car with no finesse whatsoever. She fell to her knees, unable to walk. The clinic looked closed for the night. I ran to the door and knocked. “Abe’no! Abe’no!” No answer.
I sprinted to the back. The place looked dead.

Kati, I started trying to recall the lessons about childbirth. Was there a lessu? Oh, the other woman had plenty of sheets wrapped around her body. We could use those. Razor blade? Gloves? This was a hard paper.

Madam’s blood-curdling scream brought me back to the real world. I dashed back to the scene of drama. We had to get a midwife.

“Give me the number of the midwife!”
“Eh?” Gata had no idea what I was talking about.
“Doctor! Telephone!”
He threw his hands up in despair. We were the definition of the word “cooked”.

Someone had heard the commotion and came to inquire what the matter was. The midwife lived close by, he said, and dashed off into the night to get her. I have never been so relieved.

Midwife was obviously already out for the night but she came running with her hair-net still on. She unlocked the two big padlocks on the door to the clinic. Madam crawled inside and was hoisted on to the bed screaming. “Woiiiii Woiiiiiii!”

“We go!”
What? Gata could not be serious. Here is your wife about to have your baby, and you are making to flee? Even before the midwife begins to check?

Anyway, “flee” we did. We traveled back without a word. 01:58.

I met him again as I left for work this morning.

He put up six fingers. “Girl.”