Noxolo’s Gift

Last Tuesday night, 11:20 PM, my cell phone rings. I choose to ignore it. 11:25 PM, it rings again. Since my cell phone hardly ever rings in the middle of the night I decide it best to answer. One of our ministry partners is on the line. Her cousin, Noxolo, is in labor and needs to get to the hospital. Noxolo is a 19 year old young lady who we know quite well from church and also the Bible study held at the Center twice weekly. I get dressed and head out into the dark, rainy night. All the way to their homestead I am praying that the Lord will keep us safe on the roads. Driving at night around here is very dangerous and usually we avoid it, if possible! I also find myself singing “Our God is an awesome God, He reigns with wisdom and power…” which gives me comfort as my eyes scan both sides of the road for goats, cows, donkeys, oncoming cars etc…

Arriving at the homestead, I am greeted at the door by our minister partner, Nombali.

I enter a back bedroom and find Noxolo in heavy labor on the floor. She is obviously very uncomfortable and it is clear that she has started to push. I still am telling myself that this is her first baby; we have plenty of time! I encourage her to get dressed and tell her we must get into the van and on our way to the hospital. It is an hour and a half drive in daylight. Now, it is close to midnight and raining!

“There is no time now!” Nombali’s mother tells me.

“Oh Jesus, help me! What am I supposed to do? Show me how to help this poor girl!” I pray in my spirit. It is then I remember that the nurse at the clinic near by has an apartment behind the clinic. This homestead is located adjacent to our central care point, which has a clinic on site! Thank you, Jesus!

I inform Nombali’s mother (Noxolo’s aunt) and Noxolo that I am going to fetch the nurse. I grab Nombali by the hand, to guide me through the pitch black darkness outside. The two of us are tromping through ankle deep mud and the rain. There is literally not a light outside! No moon, as it is raining and cloudy. We can not see a thing! I ask Nombali if she has a flashlight in the house. No, she doesn’t. Suddenly, I remember there is a light on my cell phone which is in my pocket. I fumble in the dark, trying to figure out how to turn it on. Once we have the tiny light to “guide” us, we continue on to the clinic. As we are stumbling through the bush, I am silently praying that we don’t step on any glass, thorns, scorpions or snakes!

Once we reach the nurse, I explain the situation. He believes we should still drive Noxolo to the hospital. He informs us that he has no surgical instruments, so it would be best to get her to the hospital. I plead with him to at least come over to the homestead and check her out. (Secretly, I am planning on kidnapping him into the van to come with us to the hospital in case this baby makes an appearance along the way!) He grabs some rubber gloves, gets dressed and joins us in walking back to the house. I notice he has put on a pair of dress shoes. That’s a mistake, I think, as I pick up my heavy, mud-laden feet with each step! As we approach the house, I am relieved not to hear any screams of agony or cries of a new born baby. Silence greets us as we enter the door; remove our filthy shoes and head into the back bedroom…

Imagine our surprise at the scene awaiting us there! A tiny baby still attached to the umbilical cord looking up at us with wide-open eyes!

“OK, it has already happened…” the nurse proclaimed as calm and cool as could be.

I don’t know if I am relieved it is over or bummed that I missed the big event…in hindsight, I am certain that relief is the overwhelming emotion here.

I watch in amazement as the nurse ties the cord with some thread Nombali had produced from somewhere. He asks for something with which to cut the cord. Nombali’s mom points at a scissors on a nearby dresser.

“Are they sterile?” the nurse asks. (Ummmm…duh!)

“I have hand sanitizer in my purse!” I announce proudly…just happy to be of some assistance here!!

I produce the small bottle with trembling hands. The nurse examines it briefly. “It will do!” he declares.  I squirt the gel on the scissors as liberally as possible. 

I say a prayer of thanks and praise…which continues all the way back home! The nurse assures us that mom and baby appear very healthy and it will be better to wait until morning to bring them to the hospital in the light of day.

I find out the next morning that the baby’s name is Siposeto, which means “our gift” in SiSwati. What an absolutely perfectly perfect name for this little one! Something tells me Siposeto and I will be friends for a very long time. I imagine a day in the future when he tugs on my hand, looks up at me and says: “Make Jen, will you tell me the story of the night I was born…pleeeeeaaaase?”

Yeah, little Sipo and I will be friends for a long, long time…