After my ladies' meeting this morning, we all walked about 15 minutes further into the "bairro", which is the "slums" to visit one of our group members who had just had a baby. As we skirted around people's well-swept yards and stepped over old plastic bags, fruit peelings, and rags, I was (as always) the subject of great interest. Benjamin, who was with me, excites even more interest. Luckily he usually doesn't mind too much unless children try to talk to him and for some reason this bothers him. We finally came around the back of the stick and mud home of our friend. This house, like many of the others in the bairro, is constructed of rough-cut poles tied into a waffle-like frame and plastered with mud. They don't last very long, these houses, and often are in some stage of falling down. If the walls get very wet, down they come. The roof is a frame of poles with plastic laid over top, and straw laid on top of that. This is supposed to keep the rain off, but the numerous holes in the plastic don't tend to deter it that much. The house was about 10 feet long and 8 feet wide, the usual size, and next to the front door was a pot bubbling with beans. Likely the entirely of the day's meals. Inside, the young mother sat on a straw mat, leaning against the mud wall, the baby laid beside her, wrapped in a cloth. As I looked at the baby, I asked how far along the mother had been when it was born and was shocked that they said 9 months, since this baby looked extremely tiny and a bit drawn. I've seen other babies like this here, and don't know if they come out like this because they actually are premature (people don't tend to be very accurate in their counting of the months) or because the mother is ill. She looked well enough, but tired out with caring for this 10 day old infant. I am hoping there is someone there to help her with the handwashing of all the clothes, carrying of the water, carrying of the wood and building of the fire and cooking from scratch whatever they have available.
Inside the house, there was no furniture except a handmade table that had a cloth over it and a few odd items on it, like a large avocado seed and an empty bottle. The holes in the roof let in a little light, but otherwise it was very dark and I'm sure very cold at night (we are in cold season). Anyone who came from America would be absolutely horrified at the poverty in which this woman was living, but here unfortunately it is pretty normal.
Our little group of ladies went in, and the most senior held the baby while we sang a few choruses, with gusto. Most are in Makua, so I just hum along and clap, but was able to join in for the Portuguese songs. We sang songs like "God gives and God takes away" and "To follow Jesus is Good", things like that. Then we all prayed for her (at the same time), and a plastic bag of gifts was opened. These were purchased from the weekly offering that is taken at the ladies' meeting. There were two foot-long bars of homemade soap (purchased in the market), a capulana (a 5-foot length of colorful cloth used for a skirt, for a shawl, to carry a baby around in like a sling, a floor mat, to wrap your purchases in, for just about anything!), a package of sugar and three used shirts for the new mother. These were not displayed. No questions were asked about the baby like weight, name, or sex. I didn't dare ask because some people have some beliefs about sharing details about a baby, that I'm not completely familiar with yet. Having to do with the spirits and ancestors.
Anyway, so after doing all this, we went outside and sang another song, then departed. The mother didn't look very happy that we had come, just smiled a little. No thank you for the gifts, no little speech. This is totally appropriate in their culture, but I am not yet sure why! And no, there are not baby showers here either. As I gazed at the tiny baby, and exhausted mother, I could only pray that somehow God spares both of them. Infant death is so common here, and to try to get medical care is exhausting, involving a long walk to the hospital and a long wait. Many Mozambican babies do grow up and thrive, and I hope this little mite is one of them. - Cami
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