MELAMINA THE QUEEN

CHAPTER 59

JABULILE CELE

It took a lot of pleading for the doctors to let us in the operation room. We had to scrub in and we were given strict instructions to shut up the whole time. You know it’s serious when they order a whole Queen Mother to shut it. Usually, people are not allowed there because of the surgery. It can be traumatizing. Seeing someone being cut open and seeing their internal organs can make you lose appetite for days. MaDlomo and I are just standing a bit far from the doctors’ working area but close enough to see what is happening. One of the doctors do a scan on Futhy’s belly and the sounds of the heartbeats make her look at her colleague but not in a good way. I want to ask if there is something wrong but I don’t want to impose or be forward. So I keep quiet. Then the surgery commences.

These past few months have been challenging. Thando asked to talk to me and she told me about her white fiancé. To say I was surprised would be an understatement. I know she was bound to have a relationship in Europe but what I did not expect was her getting engaged. She asked that I tell her father about this but I haven’t found right opportunity to break the news. My husband is not a monster, but we are old now. We should deal with one situation at a time before moving to another. There are always complications surrounding Futhy’s pregnancies, so he is needed here. We will deal with Thando’s issue after that. And there is this other one of Gcino sleeping with a virgin from a traditional family who needs damages. I swear these kids live to torture me with their issues.

My mind comes back to the situation at hand. Women were created to stomach even the worst situations in life. Ever wondered why they are more women in the health care industry than men? It’s not because we are mean or have a strong back bone. That’s a given. We just also have that gene or sucking it up and dealing with shit because we know nobody else will do it for us. We watch as they carefully remove the first baby who cries so loudly and boldly. The doctor hands the baby to one of the nurses who cleans it. It’s a girl. They check Futhy’s blood pressure.

“Doctor Masondo, please tend to the baby and check if they are any abnormalities before we remove the next one.” Futhy’s doctor says to someone, and I see a guy who has been sitting at the corner this whole time stand and he checks the baby.
“Since she is a premature, we cannot overlook anything. She needs to be admitted to the NICU and there, we will be able to monitor her health and condition.” The guy whom I assume is pediatrician. He gets busy with the child.

Futhy’s doctor proceeds to take out the second baby. It’s also a girl. She cries once and starts wheezing. “It’s the one with the slow heartbeat. Please plug her in as soon as possible. We might lose her if we don’t move quickly.” There is a team already taking care of the baby and plugging her into machines. From far, I can see as soon as they have cleaned her up, that she is so light skinned. “Here comes the last one.” She takes out the last baby, cuts the umbilical cord and looks at the baby. It doesn’t cry or make any sound. From where we are, I can’t see clearly, but I can tell that the baby has not opened its eyes. “Doctor Msweli, please continue with Her Majesty and tie her tubes.” She turns around with the baby still in her hands. She cleans it up and goes on to do something on its chest as to revive it. It now dawns on me that the baby is not breathing. No. No. No. That can’t happen. Not with my grandchild.

“Doctor, what’s happening?” MaDlomo asks and I also wish to know what’s going on? The doctor doesn’t respond. She keeps on applying pressure on the baby’s chest but nothing happens.
Dr. Masondo steps closer to the child and checks something. He sighs. “This is a stillborn, Dr. There is nothing you can do.” Stillborn as in dead? No. That cannot happen. My feet move on its own accord and I find myself standing next to the doctors, looking at the baby. I reach out to touch her and it seems like she is turning colder by every minute that passes. No. She looks so beautiful and innocent. Why did they give us her only to take her away so soon? This is so unfair. “Doctor, call it.”

“Time of death, 20:36.” That just makes the whole thing real. Tears stream down my cheeks as I take my granddaughter in my hands. The one that never lived. The one stolen by the angel of death. I bring her closer to my chest and just break into sobs. I have never lost a child before but this feels like it is happening to me. “Mrs. Cele, please give us the child.”
I see MaDlomo come to stand next to me and looks at the baby. I hand it to her. “They are lying. How can they say gogo’s angel has passed when she looks so beautiful?” she asks, tears streaming down her cheeks. “Melamina doesn’t deserve this. She doesn’t.” after a minute she hands the child back to the doctors. I move on to see the other two little girls. The white one looks so fragile but she is so pretty. The other one looks so strong.

Futhy’s doctor comes to us. “I am sorry for your loss, Your Majesties. We are yet to do an autopsy on the child to determine the cause of her death because she was healthy a few hours ago. Please excuse us.”

MaDlomo drags me out of the operation room and as soon as I am outside, I sink to the floor and just wail. I don’t understand why God did this. Why did He toy  with my daughter’s hope? She got used to the idea of having triplets a while ago and now she won’t even get to hear her daughter’s first cry. She won’t get to see her eyes. She won’t get to carry get or burp her or sing her a lullaby. Is this the kind of pain that women go through when they lose their children? Worse when they are stillborns? Life is so unfair.

“I know it’s not fair. Let it all out sisi because we need to be strong for our kids. You know how weak they both are, emotionally.” MaDlomo comforts me and I take a deep breath.
“She was so ready for three kids. Not so long ago, she called and we were brainstorming names. She is going to be so devastated. I wish I can take away her pain. She doesn’t deserve this.”
She nods and I slowly stand up. “They both don’t deserve this. They should be adjusting to the changes in their lifestyles but now they will be forced to mourn the loss of their little girl. I hope they won’t lose themselves to grief. Come. Let’s go deliver the bad news.” MaDlomo is stronger than me. She is fierce and even though she is saddened by this, she is soldiering on. I guess that’s what made her a phenomenal queen. We enter the waiting room and the family immediately get up. Kuhle looks at me and frowns.

“You have been crying ma. What’s wrong?” he asks, stepping closer and I take a deep breath. I am on the verge of breaking down.
MaDlomo steps in and holds her son’s hand. “Come, my son. Let’s sit down.” He doesn’t protest. They sit down and all eyes are on MaDlomo. My husband comes to my side and hugs me without asking any questions. The comfort in his arms makes me want to wail but I don’t want to overwhelm Kuhle. “I need you to know that nothing is your fault. Everything happens for a reason. Sometimes we don’t know the reason. I am sorry.”
I can see confusion taking over his facial expression. “Mama, please be straight forward.”
“Melamina did great. She gave birth to three beautiful babies. One dark like you. One white like beach sands. But the last one didn’t make it. I’m sorry Ndodana. The doctors tried everything they could. She came out a stillborn. There was nothing they could do.”

Kuhle shakes his head while his eyes fill with unshed tears and that makes me break down. My husband tightens his hold around me and I hear him sniffing. “Mama, you’re ranking me, right? Your grandkids have taught you pranks? Because there is no way that you’re telling me I just lost one of my kids. All of them were okay a few hours ago. Nothing could have happened. This is a bad joke.” Tears are already streaming down his cheeks. “Please tell me that you’re joking. I need to hear you say it, ma.”

“Clear out the hospital, now.” I hear the King order someone. MaDlomo just breaks down and Kuhle stands up. He takes out his umqhele and throws it across the room.
“This can’t be right. It can’t be right. Futhy! Futhy!” he screams, walking towards the operation room and his father quickly follow him.

“Mkami, I am coming back now.” Siya says before kissing my cheeks and following the men. I don’t think they will recover from this. Moments later I hear deep sobs from the corridor and I know Kuhle has found the proof he needs. I wish it was someone’s doing. I wish there was a way to avenge this. But it was natural and there is nothing we could have done to stop it or prevent it.
.
.
.
To all the parents who lost their kids or never got to hold them, May God heal your emotional wounds and be with you always.