The Wake of Death

Traditions. Traiditions! So hard to break. Their clutching tentacles embedded deeply in years of repetition become at times roots of horror and haunting regret. Such is the case of Ngunza's family.

On june 4, 2011, our favorite sentinel came to work as usual. His wife was ready to deliver anyday. She had made several prenatal visits to our dispensary, and Marvina, the head nurse and midwife, admonished her not to waste any time getting herself back to the dispensary once she went into labor.

"Do you promise me to comply?" "Yes" was the response. "Do you understand how important it is for you to come right away? You've already had six children. I urge you not to delay when you start contracting, OK?" "OK." That was the day before she started her labor.

We left for Kinshasa the next day, not realizing that conversation had taken place between Marvina and Ngunza's wife.

The morning after our arrival in Kin, Jim groaned over the phone as Pastor Ezekiel told him of her death. She had delivered twins and bled to death.

There was apparently no problem birthing the twins, but a while later she began to hemorrhage. Ngunza was at work down aerobic hill that leads to the mission as a night sentinel, and he didn't even know what was going on.

Anger and sorrow braided with perplexity gripped me. The family doesn't own a bike, but I know bikes are available.

Why didn't she go through with her vow to get to the dispensary right away?

Why didn't anyone tell Ngunza she was in labor? It would have taken about 10 minutes to get to him.

Why didn't they carry her there, especially when she started bleeding?

Why did the family sit by and allow her to lose all that blood?

I don't know. What I do know is that Ngunza's wife is not the only one to not break tradition, to not go against the tide and risk heavy ridicule from the relatives.

Village tradition says, "We can handle this ourselves. We can save some money by staying home. We want to resort to village cures first. We don't need to go get help until things get really bad."

Shindani was expecting her fifth child in 1992. The first four died in her womb. instead of getting her to a doctor at the first sign of labor, the village "fathers" waited five days. Then, when desperation set in on Shindan's part, such as labored breathing and agonizing pains with no relife in sight, they brought her to us. But it was too late.

As Jim was fueling up the airplane to fly her to Vanga for a C section, she died near the airplane hangar.

Needless deaths in both cases.