CORD BOUND OR LOVE BOUND

Was it morning yet? How long had she been out? It felt like merely a week since Nanji - the only person who could listen to her for more than a few minutes- had told her that she looked pregnant. She is my friend, Achi thought with a sad smile. Their little ones played together and more than once hers were comforted by Nanji's generosity.

Hard times they lived in these and everyone else hoarded the little they managed to get in an attempt to dine decently at least once each day. Bless Nanji's heart though since any time the two scrawny children made the small trip to their "aunts" hut, they looked happy once back. A happy child is one with a content stomach. Achi could not recollect the last time she had felt happy.

The feeling, or is it a chemical reaction, had disintegrated from her spirit and instead a tumultuous flurry of contrasting feelings had taken a foothold of her being. She could neither remember when these began neither. They lingered omnipresent in every thought, decision and action she took; an evil ventriloquist's shadow maybe?

A weak bat-like shriek snapped her back to reality. Achi stretched and with the little strength she had left pushed open the small wooden window with the tip of her fingers. It did not open even halfway but it was more than enough for the early morning sun to reflect off of the little ones face. So tiny it was lying there close to her calf with the cord still attached.

An agonizing fourteen hours had ended with the result being this dependent miniature form of her, a girl as well. She was still in a significant amount of pain and discomfort as she laid back down not even wanting to take another look at the fruit of her womb. She felt dirty, she was in fact dirty not having had a full shower since the unsuccessful journey to a pre-natal clinic a couple of kilometers from home a month past.

The little room that was her bedroom looked, smelt and felt like a first century abattoir. The little one's brothers were in the adjacent room fast asleep oblivious of the new addition to their household. In fact not even her best friend Nanji knew that the baby had come. Also her uncle; literally next door, did not have a clue about the newborn or perhaps he just didn't care. Snide comments and coldness; the message was in clarity, he did not want any part of his nephews' lives. Perhaps he also had the inherent demons in his bones. Could be excused by the lack of progress in his social life? Family, the f-word that does most of the effing than the actual f-word.

Early mornings meant activity. Young and old alike, carrying cans and pots followed the path near her small hut navigating to the kidao. You see water was also a problem around the village; could Achi have had more concern on her personal hygiene if there was regular and close access to clean water? The ascent from the kidao also posed a challenge to her weak legs afflicted by an unknown ailment.

She pondered over this while sitting in the filth of a process that was supposed to be natural and beautiful albeit the pain.
Pain yes, she came back to the aches in her back, pelvis, everywhere ached now. The physical suffering only momentary was quickly overwhelmed by the unrelenting mental anguish which prompted her to act. A swift and angry pull at the cord was all it took for the separation of mother and daughter.

Achi took another look at the feeble little being; that now did not have the lungs to wail lay there prostrated, eyes closed with the little movements of her tiny closed fists being the only sign of life. Her hand found a dirty rag that once was a towel she thinks, picks up the naked tot and wraps it round. In that moment of fleeting lunacy, Achi had already decided the fate of the newborn.

Picking up the package she strenuously made her way to the door, her tired legs almost giving up to the pressure and fatigue. Physical distress was not a primary concern now. She had to be rid of this problem at hand, literally. She could not deal with anymore hungry cries, nappy changes, midnight fever outbreak fears and all burdens that were brought about by rearing. Achi wondered, 'would her little one heed to a late evening request and run to get paraffin for their rusty and smoky wick lamp?'

All these thoughts propelling her will as she drags her heavy feet crossing the broken hedge and into the neighboring farm. Ignoring the cold morning dew kissing her muddy feet, she made way to her destination envisioning a sole soldier; crawling in a damp ditch head down evading enemy spotlight and possible fire. Halfway there the placenta squishes out of the birth canal out via the inside of her thigh coating it with a mixture of blood and fluid, still she keeps going.

Achi places the package down, the grown corn in the farm giving cover from prying eyes. With shaky hands she makes a hole in the loose dirt, big enough to fit the package. She takes another look at her, one last look at her baby, the chubby balled up fist with the cute little pink digits and the perfect little nails. Her little eyes feeling the warmth of the morning sun, opening slowly and closing back again. The flap of the dirty cloth goes over the face as she places her package into the hole and the dirt follows with a sad tear that rolls down the side of her face onto the ground.