A few months after we arrived, Nancy became quite ill and decided to take some time off from work to recover. The property manager asked me to speak with Nancy and perhaps accompany her to the hospital to try to figure out what was going on. To make a long story short, Nancy was pregnant, but the baby was growing outside of her womb and the placenta was entwined around her intestines in order to get nutrients, making digesting food extremely painful. I will say that despite two ultrasounds at the Kilifi District Hospital, no one there managed to detect that the fetus was not in its usual place. They did, however, manage to prescribe several drugs contraindicated during pregnancy… but that’s another story. Finally, I found a doctor in Mombasa at a private hospital that came highly recommended by some friends at KEMRI. After he saw Nancy, he concluded right away that the extra-uterine pregnancy had to be removed immediately – Nancy could die and there was only a slim chance at best that the baby would grow to term. Nancy and her husband were devastated. They had waited almost ten years for a baby. The ultrasound showed they had a little boy (they have two beautiful little girls, Damarus who is 14 and Jennifer who is 8). When it came time to take Nancy for surgery, her hemoglobin levels were so low, that they could not safely operate. We saw it as a blessing in disguise – an opportunity for the baby to mature enough to survive. Nancy went home with some iron supplements, strict dietary instructions, and a warning to come to the hospital immediately if she felt unwell. Despite her daily pain, she would do anything to save her baby and she was determined to try to carry him for six more weeks.
Three weeks later, Nancy fell very ill with a high fever and was in extreme pain. Patrick and I were traveling, but Nancy’s husband took her back to see the doctor in Mombasa right away. It was too late. The baby had died and Nancy had a severe blood infection as a result. Dr. Mahesh carefully performed the surgery to remove the baby. Kalama, Nancy’s husband, brought his son back to Kilifi and buried him quietly the next day while Nancy was still in the hospital. I cried for days. Nancy remained in the hospital for a week after nearly dying herself from septicemia.
Throughout their ordeal, Kalama looked after Nancy with a tenderness uncommon in Kenyan relationships (uncommon in American ones for that matter). Their whole family looked after each other. Kalama’s brother and his brother’s wife, Zawadi, accompanied Nancy and Kalama to the hospital each time. Zawadi always stayed with Nancy when she had to spend the night. And Kalama was fiercely independent, never asking us for anything and always insisting that it wasn’t necessary for us to travel with them to the hospital (although we did visit them when we could, Kalama took charge of the situation). This may seem trivial, but for a poor rural Kenyan working as a gardener or housekeeper, navigating a fancy private hospital where class distinction is standard operating procedure must surely have been daunting.
We were all devastated, but so glad that Nancy would make a full recovery. The doctor told us it was unlikely that Nancy would be able to get pregnant again.
Early the next year, I stopped in to visit Nancy. She seemed back to her old self and looked happy. She said that Kalama was preparing a huge party for her to celebrate her recovery. She asked us if we could come. We accepted immediately and Nancy actually jumped up and down. She handed us a small piece of paper typed on an old-fashioned typewriter (where they found a typewriter, I have no idea!) with a formal invitation.
A few weeks later, we drove into a rural part of the district to Kalama’s family home. The homestead was a collection of small mud houses set under dozens of huge mango trees. The whole compound had been decorated with string tied with tiny scraps of fabric. There was a stage with a thatched roof covered in bougainvillea flowers where a DJ had set up some speakers. There was a group of men cooking two whole cows worth of pilau and an old lady with her homemade palm wine surrounded by a bunch of old men appreciating the same, most of whom looked pretty hammered. And there were kids! Dozens and dozens of kids.
All the women and girls in the Kalama clan had on new dresses in matching fabric. Nancy looked radiant. There was a drama troupe who acted out Nancy’s ordeal, there were traditional dancers and music, there were speeches (including one by Patrick and myself), there was FOOD, there were gifts for the family, there was cake (the cutting and sharing of which was an elaborate ritual that involved Nancy and Kalama feeding each guest a bite while everyone sang a song that went something like “cutting the cake, cutting the cake…” and, of course, there was dancing!! The best speech was by Kalama who declared his love for his beautiful Nancy. The best part of the evening was watching the love and celebration of life even in full knowledge of loss and grief. Kalama could not get enough of watching all the little kids dance and have fun. I almost got the feeling that he threw the party partly to watch the kids have a ball. Kalama even bought some red wine for us (Nancy must have told him about the ever-expanding pile of empty red wine bottles at the house). That small box of red wine cost him nearly two days salary. It was one of the most generous gifts we’ve ever been given. It was an amazing evening. That town has never seen a party like it and it may never again.
We saw the Kalamas again after that evening when we brought some pictures to give to them. Several months passed and our departure from Kilifi drew near. During my last week in town, I stopped by Nancy’s work to say goodbye. My jaw dropped when I saw her. To my utter disbelief, Nancy was about 8 months pregnant! I could barely make a whole sentence, I was so excited. Nancy was radiant. She told me that everything was fine and the baby was due in January. She also said that if it was a little girl, they would name her Wendy and if it was a boy, he would be called Patrick. I couldn’t contain myself I was so overwhelmed with joy and immediately called Patrick, mom, everyone, even Dr. Mahesh whose painstakingly careful surgery and allowed Nancy to conceive again.
I had been praying that God would give Nancy and Kalama a miracle, but part of me didn’t really believe that he would – that he would suspend the laws of nature for one couple who wanted one child. But thank goodness someone with more faith than me was praying too! It was the best Christmas present ever.
We kept praying for Nancy and the delivery while we were home. Finally we got word that Nancy had a little boy and everyone was healthy. He was born on January 20nd, the same day Obama was inaugurated as the 44th president. We were so relieved and overjoyed. When we got back to Kilifi in early February, the first thing we did was go visit the Kalamas and meet Patrick Kalama!!
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