After The Tears

by Faure, Michelle;

  Busi locked her front door behind her and, clutching a small bag she had packed as a precaution a few weeks before, she began to walk quickly towards the taxi rank. She did not notice a neighbour in a red cap open her front door, watch her closely, and then close the door again.

  Busi climbed aboard a taxi that was going towards the hospital. She breathed a sigh of relief as she paid the taxi fare. It was the last of the money from Parks. She thought about the return fare and calculated that the few coins remaining in her purse might just cover it.

  The taxi seemed to take forever to get to the hospital. Every road on the route to the hospital seemed to be clogged with traffic. Busi leant back against the seat and took a deep breath. She felt anxiety mounting inside her, but she remembered how important it was to stay calm. Whatever happened, Parks and his wife should not know that her baby was about to be born. In her mind she imagined her baby nestling in Thandi’s arms, her red nails stroking its cheek while Parks looked on, smiling. No, thought Busi to herself, that could not happen! Not at any cost! She would have to give a false name at the hospital so that they could not trace her.

  Eventually the taxi drew to a halt outside the hospital, and Busi stood up and made her way slowly to the exit. She climbed down onto the pavement and looked towards the hospital entrance. Strangely it seemed very far away, although she knew it was just an easy stroll.

  She took a step forward, clutching her bag against her stomach. Oh, Mama, she thought in panic, where are you? She took another step, and then another. The security guard seated at the entrance looked up at her as she approached, then stood and moved towards her as an agonising pain gripped her tummy. She cried out, feeling her legs buckling beneath her, “Help me! My baby ... my baby is coming!”

  Chapter 13

  Busi tried to stay calm as two nurses came running towards her, pushing a wheelchair. They positioned it next to her and hauled her up into it. Busi held onto her bag with one hand and onto the armrest with the other as the nurses pushed her towards the hospital reception at breakneck speed.

  “Name!”

  An overweight man in a white shirt stood over Busi with a clipboard. When she did not immediately reply he bent down and shouted into Busi’s face.

  “Name!”

  “Thandi Mbethe,” said Busi.

  It was the first name that popped into Busi’s mind. Thandi and Parks. Their faces swam before Busi for a second, then she forgot everything as she was gripped, yet again, by excruciating pain.

  The orderly asked Busi some more questions between the contractions, and she lied in her answers to every single one. No one must know I am here, was all she could think, no one. Fear gripped her as tightly as the contractions that seized her body. Parks and Thandi must not know that I am here. They mustn’t know. They mustn’t know.

  The same nurses who had wheeled her into the hospital instructed her to remove her clothes and get into a hospital robe. Then they assisted her rather roughly onto a hospital bed and wheeled her into a ward. She was vaguely conscious that there were other women there. Some of them were screaming.

  Busi clutched at the sheets and called out to a passing nurse. “Help me,” she cried out pathetically. “I can’t do this! I don’t want to do this!”

  The nurse stopped for a second and cast a disinterested eye over Busi.

  “Well, my girl,” the nurse said coldly, tapping Busi’s thigh with the cold palm of her hand, “you have no choice in the matter. You had lots of fun putting that baby in there, didn’t you? Well, as you are finding out, it’s not so much fun getting it out. Is it?”

  Busi cried out in pain, and reached out for the nurse’s hand. “Stay with me,” she begged, “Please stay with me.”

  The nurse pushed Busi’s hand away. “What are you thinking?” she said coldly. “That I have only you to attend to? You still have a long way to go. Get on with it.” And with that the nurse walked off.

  Busi lay back against the pillow, and took a few deep breaths. For the moment the pains had passed.

  “Oh, Mama,” said Busi softly, beginning to cry, “why didn’t you come? Why didn’t you come? Oh, Gogo, why did you leave me?”

  The tears rolled down Busi’s cheeks as she prepared herself for the overwhelming contractions that she knew would come again soon. And when they did, one after the other, in a seemingly endless cycle of pain, she cried out and sobbed. There was nobody there to comfort her.

  * * *

  Busi’s baby was born later that day. She sighed with relief and exhaustion as she heard the doctor say, “It’s a girl,” and then she reached out her arms to receive her new baby.

  Busi looked down at the little being cradled in her arms. She was tiny and wrinkled with a lot of black hair plastered against her head. It would take a while to sink in that this little child was now hers. The baby’s eyes opened and Busi stared deeply into the dark black pools. New life. She felt a rush of love and wonder.

  A nurse urged her to begin feeding and Busi put the baby to her breast, like she had seen so many women do. The baby nuzzled, and then latched onto her nipple and sucked.

  “No problem with feeding this one,” said the nurse, and moved on to the next woman.

  Busi’s daughter drank her fill and then the nurse took her back to the nursery. Without her warm presence, Busi suddenly felt flickers of fear and loneliness again. Where was her grandmother? Where was her mother? She wanted to show them her baby. She began to cry, but even crying felt like too much effort. She sank into a deep sleep.

  When Busi woke up she was gripped by a fear that her baby was gone. She sat up with a start and cried out, “Where is she? Where is my baby?”

  “Thula wena,” said a nurse, who was busy with another patient in a bed across from Busi. “She’s in the nursery. Be quiet or you’ll wake everybody.”

  “I want her,” said Busi, sitting up and swinging her legs to the floor.

  “You stay where you are,” said the nurse, frowning. “You’ll get her later when it’s time to breastfeed. It’s nearly supper time for you. Eat first.”

  Busi lifted her legs back onto the white sheets, and told herself to be calm. But her eyes looked wildly around the ward, as if Parks and his wife might appear at any moment.

  Her stomach growled and she realised how hungry she was. She had not eaten for nearly two days. The smell of food that wafted down the shiny, tiled hospital passageways into the ward made her mouth water.

  Busi ate every morsel of the stew that was put in front of her. She was so ravenous that she didn’t mind the fatty bits of meat. It seemed to her that no food had ever tasted so good. When she was finished she pushed her tray away and slid her bare feet down onto the cold tiles.

  “I’m ready to see my baby now,” she said to the nurse who was handing out the food. “Where is she?”

  “In a minute, in a minute,” said the nurse, and then, seeing that Busi was very determined, she called out to another nurse, “Hayi, this child wants her child. Bring it to her please.”

  Busi stood in the middle of the room. She clutched her hospital robe around her. Already she was feeling stronger. She looked around the ward. There was a little cupboard next to her bed. She walked slowly towards it and opened it. Inside were her clothes and her bag containing a few things for the baby. She unzipped it, lifting out the clothes her gogo had given to her. She had not shown any interest in them at the time; she had not even asked where they came from. They weren’t new. And anyway she had not wanted to look at anything to do with the baby.

  Now she lay the little babygro on the hospital bed and stroked it gently. There was also a thin baby blanket and two nappies. So little, thought Busi to herself, so little with which to begin life. She had always thought that her mother would be there when the baby came, and that she would provide for them. What a fool I was, she thought.

  She looked up to see a
nurse bringing her little baby girl to her. She reached out and took her, gently. Then, holding her tightly in her arms, she bowed her head to kiss her daughter’s little wrinkled face. The baby began to whimper and Busi lifted her to her breast and started feeding her, closing her eyes as she did so. Lost in the present moment, she forgot about everything else.

  Chapter 14

  Busi changed the baby’s nappy and carefully dressed her in the tiny babygro. Then she kissed her sweet-smelling head and lay down with her again. She cuddled her for the rest of the evening. When the nurse came to take her back to the nursery, Busi wouldn’t let her go.

  “She’s my baby and she stays with me,” Busi said fiercely whenever a nurse came near her.

  Mostly the nurses were too busy to bother with her. “Just make sure she doesn’t make a noise and disturb the others,” was the response from most of them.

  For most of the night Busi lay with her baby girl nestled in her arms. She couldn’t stop staring at her, examining her tiny fingers and her tiny toes. It was a strange mixture of emotion she felt. She was overcome with love, but at the same time she had never felt such responsibility, and it frightened her. Her head swam with thoughts about what she should do. It was like she kept going down the same dead-end street and could not find an answer.

  As she lay there cuddling her daughter, a long-forgotten memory surfaced. Years ago a social worker had come to her school. She had been there to speak about teenage pregnancy. Thinking back, Busi thought how foolish she and her friends had been, wolf-whistling and giggling every time the lady had tried to talk to them about sex and pregnancy. Still, Busi had tried to listen, even though the boys in particular had been making so much noise. “Always use condoms,” the social worker had said. Busi remembered how she had wanted Parks to use condoms. Why on earth had she believed him when he had said she shouldn’t worry – that everything would be all right?

  Busi ran her finger over her baby girl’s black hair. “How sweet you are, my daughter,” Busi whispered to her. “I will never let that woman have you. Never.”

  Busi closed her eyes and must have dropped off because she saw Thandi’s face before her. She was looking straight at Busi and smiling – a horrible, sneering smile.

  “You see,” said Thandi to Busi in the dream, “I always said that what was his was also mine.” And then Thandi turned her gaze away from Busi, to something she was holding in her arms. In her dream Busi followed her gaze and saw what it was that Thandi was looking at. It was her baby girl! Thandi’s red fingernails were stroking the baby’s cheek, leaving scratch marks.

  Thandi looked at Busi again, pulling her lips back in a grim sneer as she said, “You see, she is mine now …”

  Busi woke up with a start. “Oh, my baby girl,” she whispered close to her baby’s ear, “what am I going to do?”

  Busi thought of her empty shack, with its empty shelves. And then she thought of her gogo, lying somewhere in this same hospital. She was certain she would never see her again. She was dying, Busi knew it.

  “Gogo can’t help me now, baby girl,” whispered Busi, the tears streaming down her face and onto her baby. “She can’t help me now.”

  Busi could barely bring herself to think of her mother and father. She could hardly picture their faces any more, they had been gone for such a long time.

  “I love you, little girl,” whispered Busi again, her tears still flowing freely, “but there is no one to help us. No one at all. Forgive me. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

  The baby yawned, and stretched, and shut her eyes. Soon she was fast asleep. She knew nothing of the world and its hardship.

  Busi could not stop her tears. Then she remembered something else that the social worker had said to them that day. She had told them about something mothers could do if they could not look after their babies for any reason. It was a way to keep their babies safe from harm. Lying there in the darkened ward, Busi made a decision.

  Pulling the hospital blanket up to her chin and moving slowly and quietly so as not to attract attention, she slipped out of her hospital gown and pulled on her clothes. She decided to keep the warm blanket that her baby was wrapped in, promising to return it some day.

  Then, waiting until she could see no nurse around, Busi got out of her bed, leaving a pillow plumped-up beneath the bedclothes. She clutched her sleeping baby close to her chest and walked very quietly to the entrance of the ward. Far down the passage she could hear voices but, for the moment, there was no nurse in sight.

  Busi dashed across the passage and down a flight of stairs. She opened her gogo’s large coat and pulled it around the sleeping bundle in her arms. Busi walked quickly. She had no idea where she was, but soon she saw signs pointing to the entrance of the hospital, and she followed them.

  It was now nearly 5 a.m. Busi knew exactly what she was going to do. She managed to slip past the dozing men on duty at the hospital entrance and then she was outside, in the cold and dark of the early morning.

  Out on the street taxis were already picking up commuters on their way to work. Busi was relieved to find that her remaining money was still in her purse in the pocket of her coat. She hailed a taxi and was grateful when one stopped and she could clamber into the cosy warmth inside.

  The gaadjie sucked air in through his teeth and whistled low when he saw Busi’s small baby held fast against her breast.

  “Where to, Sisi?” he asked gently, looking at her kindly. Busi looked at him gratefully as she told him.

  “Keep your money,” he said, taking Busi by surprise. “Let her have her first ride for free.”

  Busi bowed her head in gratitude and sat down. She looked out at the dark streets and blinked back the tears. I must be strong now, thought Busi to herself. Now is not the time for tears. I have to do this for you, my darling daughter.

  And then the taxi swerved out into the main stream of traffic. Busi did not look back.

  Chapter 15

  Busi looked out at the dark road. Her baby lay fast asleep on her lap, wrapped in her blanket inside Gogo’s coat. She shut her eyes and cast her mind back to the social worker’s visit to her school when she had shown them a DVD about something called a “Baby Safe”. Busi could remember it all very clearly, although at the time she could never, in a million years, have guessed that one day she would be in the same predicament.

  Busi turned to the gaadjie. “Do you have a piece of paper?” she asked, glancing around at the other passengers in the taxi and adding, “and a pen?”

  The gaadjie shrugged and shook his head, but a woman seated across the way from Busi took a notebook out of her bag, and tore out a couple of pages. She handed them to Busi, together with a pen.

  “Enkosi,” said Busi, and she sat with them clutched in her hand.

  She stared out of the window at the passing cars.

  “You better use the pen quickly,” said the woman, shifting in her seat. “It’s not long before I get out.”

  Busi nodded and looked down. Slowly, she began to write:

  This is my baby. She was born yesterday. I am not able to keep her.

  Please look after her for me. Please keep her safe. Please tell her that she has a mother who did not want to leave her. I could find no other way.

  Thank you.

  Tears splashed onto the page in front of her. Busi was grateful for the darkness inside the taxi, and she looked away, out of the window. She was still clutching the pen when the woman stood up and asked for it.

  “Sorry,” said Busi, suddenly startled, and handed her the pen. “Thank you.”

  * * *

  Busi knew where the church was. She had even been there once, years ago. Before her parents left Cape Town Busi had been part of a church youth group. They had visited another group of children at that church. When the social worker showed the DVD at her school she had exclaimed, “Hey, I know that place! It
’s called St Saviour’s Church!”

  Busi closed her eyes and remembered for a moment how young and carefree she had been then. They had been given hotdogs and cooldrinks, and they had played games and had so much fun. She sighed deeply.

  The taxi was nearly there. Busi felt a lump rising in her throat and her hands grew clammy. “Not far to go now, little one,” she whispered softly to the baby, still asleep in her arms.

  For the first time Busi suddenly considered the possibility that the “Baby Safe” may no longer exist. She felt her heart constrict in her chest. “Please, God,” she said aloud, “please let it still be there.”

  Busi remembered that in the DVD the “Baby Safe” was set into a wall of the church. It was like a large, silver drawer that could be opened. When it was opened a person could put the baby into the drawer and then shut the drawer again. The DVD had stated that the drawer was heated, so that the baby would be warm, and it was also ventilated, so the baby would be able to breathe well. The DVD had also said, very clearly, that the drawer activated some kind of alarm, and as a result someone would come, very quickly, to fetch the baby. They would take it away to safety, and they would look after it and give it everything it needed.

  Busi stared anxiously out of the window, waiting for the church to come into view.

  * * *

  “She must have had the baby by now!” Thandi gabbled as Parks came into kitchen. “I tell you, it’s all happening, Parks. I’ve just got a message that she went off yesterday, early in the morning, and didn’t come back last night. What else can that mean?”

  When he didn’t respond she went up to him and shook him. “Did you hear me? We’re getting our baby today!”

  “OK, OK, Thandi,” he said. “But we don’t even know where she is.”