‘Are you eating properly?’ and ‘You need to get fat!’ are the two sentences I have
been hearing the most every time I walk out of our house in Amakom for a short walk to the clinic or the office where Andrew spends many hours of his day (working hard on keeping the clinic running, construction work going and preparation for teams scheduled for the next few months).
Now, don’t get me wrong: I do NOT need to gain any more weight on my third post-partum week. On the contrary. What I am learning in this culture
having experienced pregnancy and delivery, and now with a newborn in Ghana has taught me so much in terms of how these precious people deal with such a special time in a mom’s life. One of the things being the belief, rightfully so, that a breastfed baby needs all he can get from his mom, and therefore the need to get the mom well-fed, preferably with chicken soup (remember: chicken meat is a treat in the village, usually eaten on very special occasions, once or twice a year, like on Christmas and Easter holidays) and fufu (the national starch of choice, made with plantain and cassa
va), lots and LOTS of it! I even received a guinea fowl – very special! - as a gift from Mac, Juliana’s husband (see picture of them with my mom, in front of our house). On the other side of this ‘eating plenty’ conversation is the fact that my mom came all the way from Brazil to spend one month with us, and spoil us with her company, her joy and of course her culinary talent. Like I said, they are all serious about getting me fat, in a Ghanaian-Brazilian joint effort! The end result of all thi s talk is that Nicolas is indeed getting big, and already has a double chin and big beautiful cheeks (I AM biased!).
I have been culturally advised by close Ghanaian friends to stay in my room as much as I can with Nicolas, avoiding exposing him to the elements for the next three months – I hear that and I think ‘mosquitos’ – another wise survival-type advice – and heat rash in this tropical weather. Not bad for the introvert part of me, I do admit. Very hard though, when the world around me keeps spinning and I hear of patients coming and going day and night at the clinic(*), and while we are hosting three interns (Holli pictured with Nicolas) in our modest guest house. And as much as I want to believe resting during post-partum is a common practice among the women in the villages, I see too many of them carrying their tiny babies on their backs, on their way to farm, uphill, or carrying heavy logs on their heads in order to have fire to cook a meal for the rest of the family, right before and not long after delivering their children.
Life goes on, much like before, but I cannot help but notice the smiles I have been receiving from some of the people –specially the moms and grandmoms- I greet on the road. Call me a romantic, if you will, but I noticed they now carry something in their greetings to me that, while I still am and will always be an oburoni (‘foreigner’, literally ‘person from a distant land’ in Twi), transcends language or cultural barriers, something that says ‘you are closer to being one of us because you dared to BE one of us.’ And I can say to them with confident trust: ‘I dared
because Jesus loves you!’
*In case you are wondering, the clinic is staffed with a midwife (who does a lot of the work these days) and six health care assistants. We also receive a visiting doctor from Kumasi, Dr. Frank, on average once a week, who is especially a big help with the more complicated cases in this time. Since my arrival in the country, in April, we have been waiting for paperwork concerning my medical license to be cleared again, so I guess you can say I have been on ‘forced maternity leave’ since then. Lucas warned me in his 6 year old way that this would be ‘a time to trust in Jesus and get some rest’. We are still waiting for the Ghana Medical Council to approve my credentials and allow me to go back to work…