MOSANA (THE UNION) - PART X
EPISODE 10
I had never seen a woman in labor before. I didn’t think I ever wanted to see one again. Andrea gave me instructions in a calm voice. Apparently, she knew what she was doing. Following her instructions, I lay the cloth from her corn-shuck mattress on the ground for her to lie on. She drew herself down to the floor and spread her legs, taking deep breaths.
“Call Fiona,” was her next instruction. Fiona was a woman a few years older than Andrea, who had had more experience than most of us. In all her years as a slave, she had done it all: cook, washerwoman, farmhand, field help, animal shearer, supervisor, and even jobs that you couldn’t even put a name to. Right then, Andrea needed her for another of her many qualifications – midwife. My guess was Fiona had helped her birth her first child, Simone.
I looked around quickly and saw that Fiona was not in the quarters with us. The few slaves that were around just watched us in silent awe. I ran to the main house, where I imagined Fiona would be, most likely working. I went in through the kitchen door and almost bumped into Moet.
“Hey, watch it!” Moet half yelled.
“Where’s Fiona?” I asked, breathlessly.
“She’s upstairs, doing the hallway. Why?”
I didn’t answer, didn’t even say thank you, but rushed upstairs to where Moet said Fiona would be. As soon as I reached the landing, Fiona turned from polishing the small brass sculpture set on a high stool between two doors to smile at me. But the smile stopped short on her face when she saw the look on mine.
One word dropped from my lips. “Andrea.” Fiona understood. Instantly, she dropped her brush and followed me back out the kitchen door to the sleeping quarters. This time, Moet followed. She had obviously gotten the hint that something was afoot.
The minute we arrived at the quarters, I heard Andrea scream. Apparently, her contractions had begun. Fiona rushed to where she was and knelt beside her.
“How many minutes apart?” she asked.
“Close enough,” Andrea gasped.
“Alright, everybody, clear out!” Fiona gave the order. I noticed the men were the first ones to the door. I went to join them, but Fiona grabbed my arm. “Stay.”
Then her eyes fixed on Moet, who stood transfixed as if she hadn’t heard the order to leave. “Moet, I’m going to need some water, scissors, some cotton wraps, and fresh linen. Take them right off the line outside.”
Moet didn’t move. It was as if the words had gone over her head.
“Moet! Water. Scissors. Wraps. Linen. Go. Now!” At Fiona’s sharp tone, Moet came to and sped out of there to get the list of items.
Fiona turned to me now. Another of Andrea’s screams ripped the air.
“I need you to kneel at her head. Use your laps to lift her head a little. Understand?”
I moved to where Andrea’s head was on the ground. Kneeling, I lifted her upper body a bit. Then I worked my folded legs underneath her neck and shoulder so they rested on my laps. I looked up to see Fiona rubbing Andrea’s legs.
“Ready, Andy?” Fiona asked, using her nickname for Andrea. Andrea nodded on my laps.
“Okay, for this first push, I want you to give me your best shot. Can you do that?”
Andrea only increased her exhales.
Fiona rubbed her legs some more, waiting for her next contraction. It came soon.
“Push!”
Andrea’s cries rent the air in an ear-splitting scream. My ears were right above her mouth and the sound traveled up my nerves to my brain, where they reverberated. I held on to her shoulders, willing her to calm down. But her screaming had only begun.
“That’s good, Andy,” Fiona was saying. “Now give me another push!”
This time, it was a groan that came out from Andrea. I never imagined a sound like that could come from a woman. With a grinding, guttural sound, she gave her next best shot.
Fiona looked beneath her skirt to check her progress, and her face told me all I needed to know. We hadn’t made progress so far.
God, how many pushes was this gon’ take?
Moet came back with what Fiona had requested, and I saw that someone else had come with her. Mrs. Flounder. She stood by the door, watching silently, while Moet approached us with the items. She spread them out by Fiona and went to stand by the door with Mrs. Flounder.
I was still wondering what Mrs. Flounder was doing there when Andrea let out another scream. It brought me back to the present and I heard Fiona asking her to push again. “Again, honey.”
Andrea did her best. By this time, her body was already sleek with sweat, and my hands were starting to slip off her.
Fiona gave Andrea a few minutes to rest, and then said, “When the next one comes,” she said, referring to her contractions, “I want you to put double it up, okay? Give it all you got. You can do this.”
In my mind I was thinking, give it all she got? She didn’t have anything left! I could tell she was spent from trying to push another human being out of her. Where did Fiona expect her to find the strength to “double” her efforts?
But it seemed I underestimated Andrea. The next push revealed the baby’s head, and Fiona cried excitedly for her to push again. Two more pushes later, and a tiny thing came squealing out of her.
“It’s a boy,” Fiona announced.
She took the scissors and cut the umbilical cord. A few minutes later, Andrea pushed the placenta out. I left my place at Andrea’s head to help Fiona wrap the placenta in one of the cotton wraps, while she tended to the baby.
“No.”
It was no more than a whisper, but I heard it. I looked up and saw Mrs. Flounder walking towards us. The ‘no’ had come from her. No? What did she mean ‘no’? She took the baby from Fiona and looked at his genital area, as if to confirm what the woman had said. Andrea reached out instinctively for her baby when she saw that Mrs. Flounder had taken him. But Mrs. Flounder wasn’t there to hurt the baby. Instead, she had a look of sheer panic on her face.
“You need to leave.”
I stopped what I was doing to look at Mrs. Flounder. It seemed I hadn’t heard correctly. Did she just say we had to leave?
“Now. You need to go now.”
So, I had heard correctly. And from the look of things, it appeared like we had all heard her. I was just about to ask her what the hell she meant when Andrew Flounder walked into the room. With one look, he took us all in – me, Mrs. Flounder, Fiona, Moet, Andrea, and most importantly, the baby in her arms.
I expected something, any emotion at all to show on his face. Excitement, maybe joy. But he remained as expressionless as a rock. He walked measuredly up to where Andrea lay and looked at her.
“What is it?” he asked, referring to the baby.
“A boy.” Andrea’s voice was no more than a whisper. Mr. Flounder got up and began to walk back out of the room.
Suddenly, his wife spoke. “She has complications. She needs the doctor.”
Mr. Flounder stopped short and looked at his wife. “Does she now?”
We all turned to look at Mrs. Flounder. That look of sheer panic that she’d had when she discovered Andrea had had a boy was still on her face. I wondered what was going on in her head. She had been about to say something before her husband came in. And now she was lying to his face. There was nothing wrong with Andrea. She had given birth to a healthy baby, and was herself healthy, although weak. But something told me that it was better to trust Mrs. Flounder than to tell Mr. Flounder the truth.
Apparently, Fiona also thought so. “Yes, master. She’s bleeding out and barely holding on as it is.” She raised her bloodied hands for emphasis. She was still kneeling at Andrea’s legs, and she looked she had just taken her hands from inside Andrea’s skirt. I saw the bowl containing the placenta by the side that Fiona had quickly dipped her hand in, and knew that she was only corroborating Mrs. Flounder’s lie. Andrea wasn’t bleeding.
Despite her acting skills, Mr. Flounder remained unmoved. “Well, as long as the baby’s alright, you all can take of her yourselves. I’m not wasting money on a slave.”
Mrs. Flounder again jumped to the rescue. “The baby won’t be alright if we don’t help Andrea. A baby needs a mother’s milk within the first few hours. If Andrea dies…” She turned to face her husband, looking him in the eye. I’d never seen a slave do that. But then, she wasn’t a slave now, was she?
“All I’m asking is that we keep her alive for the baby to live.”
There were a few moments of tense silence before Mr. Flounder finally conceded. “I’ll go for the doctor. Stay here.”
“Yes, of course,” Mrs. Flounder said, bowing her head slightly. It made her look like the rest of us for a moment, and you could almost forget she was his wife.
As soon as Mr. Flounder’s footsteps receded into the snow, Grace Flounder rushed to where Andrea still lay. Grabbing the woman’s hand, she pulled her up.
“Get up! You need to leave now!”
“What are you doing? She’s weak!” Fiona tried to push Mrs. Flounder away from Andrea, but the other woman was well-built.
I decided to step in. Even though we had backed her up, we still didn’t know what was going on and why she wanted us out of there so fast.
“Mrs. Flounder?” I called. She didn’t answer. I didn’t even think she heard me. She turned to Moet and fired instructions at the girl. “Moet! I need you to go inside, and put fresh towels, food and water in a large bag. Hurry!” The girl turned without hesitation to go and do as Mrs. Flounder had asked. Fiona and I just stared in stunned wonder. Mrs. Flounder took off her outer skirt and gave it to Andrea, taking away her stained one.
“Mrs. Flounder?” I tried again. “What is going on?” This time, I touched her shoulders, and she finally looked up from what she was doing.
“You all need to go. Far away from here. Maybe across the border, even. I know a place-”
“Now hold on.” Fiona stopped her. “That doesn’t answer our question.”
“There’s no time to explain. You need to go.”
“We ain’t moving until we know what the hell is going on. Where we gonna go anyway?”
I shared Fiona’s sentiments. As much as I felt Mrs. Flounder’s urgency, we were still in the dark. I repeated the question and watched her exhale before she answered.
“Andrew is… not your regular slaver. He truly believes in the superior-inferior complex between the whites and blacks.”
Fiona stopped her again. “Lady, we know your husband’s a capital jackass. We work for him. What I want to know is why you want us to leave.”
Mrs. Flounder stopped what she was doing and looked at us. I got the gut feeling that whatever she was about to say was really bad. I was right, but I could never have imagined what she said next.
“He wants to breed slaves.”
I had never seen a woman in labor before. I didn’t think I ever wanted to see one again. Andrea gave me instructions in a calm voice. Apparently, she knew what she was doing. Following her instructions, I lay the cloth from her corn-shuck mattress on the ground for her to lie on. She drew herself down to the floor and spread her legs, taking deep breaths.
“Call Fiona,” was her next instruction. Fiona was a woman a few years older than Andrea, who had had more experience than most of us. In all her years as a slave, she had done it all: cook, washerwoman, farmhand, field help, animal shearer, supervisor, and even jobs that you couldn’t even put a name to. Right then, Andrea needed her for another of her many qualifications – midwife. My guess was Fiona had helped her birth her first child, Simone.
I looked around quickly and saw that Fiona was not in the quarters with us. The few slaves that were around just watched us in silent awe. I ran to the main house, where I imagined Fiona would be, most likely working. I went in through the kitchen door and almost bumped into Moet.
“Hey, watch it!” Moet half yelled.
“Where’s Fiona?” I asked, breathlessly.
“She’s upstairs, doing the hallway. Why?”
I didn’t answer, didn’t even say thank you, but rushed upstairs to where Moet said Fiona would be. As soon as I reached the landing, Fiona turned from polishing the small brass sculpture set on a high stool between two doors to smile at me. But the smile stopped short on her face when she saw the look on mine.
One word dropped from my lips. “Andrea.” Fiona understood. Instantly, she dropped her brush and followed me back out the kitchen door to the sleeping quarters. This time, Moet followed. She had obviously gotten the hint that something was afoot.
The minute we arrived at the quarters, I heard Andrea scream. Apparently, her contractions had begun. Fiona rushed to where she was and knelt beside her.
“How many minutes apart?” she asked.
“Close enough,” Andrea gasped.
“Alright, everybody, clear out!” Fiona gave the order. I noticed the men were the first ones to the door. I went to join them, but Fiona grabbed my arm. “Stay.”
Then her eyes fixed on Moet, who stood transfixed as if she hadn’t heard the order to leave. “Moet, I’m going to need some water, scissors, some cotton wraps, and fresh linen. Take them right off the line outside.”
Moet didn’t move. It was as if the words had gone over her head.
“Moet! Water. Scissors. Wraps. Linen. Go. Now!” At Fiona’s sharp tone, Moet came to and sped out of there to get the list of items.
Fiona turned to me now. Another of Andrea’s screams ripped the air.
“I need you to kneel at her head. Use your laps to lift her head a little. Understand?”
I moved to where Andrea’s head was on the ground. Kneeling, I lifted her upper body a bit. Then I worked my folded legs underneath her neck and shoulder so they rested on my laps. I looked up to see Fiona rubbing Andrea’s legs.
“Ready, Andy?” Fiona asked, using her nickname for Andrea. Andrea nodded on my laps.
“Okay, for this first push, I want you to give me your best shot. Can you do that?”
Andrea only increased her exhales.
Fiona rubbed her legs some more, waiting for her next contraction. It came soon.
“Push!”
Andrea’s cries rent the air in an ear-splitting scream. My ears were right above her mouth and the sound traveled up my nerves to my brain, where they reverberated. I held on to her shoulders, willing her to calm down. But her screaming had only begun.
“That’s good, Andy,” Fiona was saying. “Now give me another push!”
This time, it was a groan that came out from Andrea. I never imagined a sound like that could come from a woman. With a grinding, guttural sound, she gave her next best shot.
Fiona looked beneath her skirt to check her progress, and her face told me all I needed to know. We hadn’t made progress so far.
God, how many pushes was this gon’ take?
Moet came back with what Fiona had requested, and I saw that someone else had come with her. Mrs. Flounder. She stood by the door, watching silently, while Moet approached us with the items. She spread them out by Fiona and went to stand by the door with Mrs. Flounder.
I was still wondering what Mrs. Flounder was doing there when Andrea let out another scream. It brought me back to the present and I heard Fiona asking her to push again. “Again, honey.”
Andrea did her best. By this time, her body was already sleek with sweat, and my hands were starting to slip off her.
Fiona gave Andrea a few minutes to rest, and then said, “When the next one comes,” she said, referring to her contractions, “I want you to put double it up, okay? Give it all you got. You can do this.”
In my mind I was thinking, give it all she got? She didn’t have anything left! I could tell she was spent from trying to push another human being out of her. Where did Fiona expect her to find the strength to “double” her efforts?
But it seemed I underestimated Andrea. The next push revealed the baby’s head, and Fiona cried excitedly for her to push again. Two more pushes later, and a tiny thing came squealing out of her.
“It’s a boy,” Fiona announced.
She took the scissors and cut the umbilical cord. A few minutes later, Andrea pushed the placenta out. I left my place at Andrea’s head to help Fiona wrap the placenta in one of the cotton wraps, while she tended to the baby.
“No.”
It was no more than a whisper, but I heard it. I looked up and saw Mrs. Flounder walking towards us. The ‘no’ had come from her. No? What did she mean ‘no’? She took the baby from Fiona and looked at his genital area, as if to confirm what the woman had said. Andrea reached out instinctively for her baby when she saw that Mrs. Flounder had taken him. But Mrs. Flounder wasn’t there to hurt the baby. Instead, she had a look of sheer panic on her face.
“You need to leave.”
I stopped what I was doing to look at Mrs. Flounder. It seemed I hadn’t heard correctly. Did she just say we had to leave?
“Now. You need to go now.”
So, I had heard correctly. And from the look of things, it appeared like we had all heard her. I was just about to ask her what the hell she meant when Andrew Flounder walked into the room. With one look, he took us all in – me, Mrs. Flounder, Fiona, Moet, Andrea, and most importantly, the baby in her arms.
I expected something, any emotion at all to show on his face. Excitement, maybe joy. But he remained as expressionless as a rock. He walked measuredly up to where Andrea lay and looked at her.
“What is it?” he asked, referring to the baby.
“A boy.” Andrea’s voice was no more than a whisper. Mr. Flounder got up and began to walk back out of the room.
Suddenly, his wife spoke. “She has complications. She needs the doctor.”
Mr. Flounder stopped short and looked at his wife. “Does she now?”
We all turned to look at Mrs. Flounder. That look of sheer panic that she’d had when she discovered Andrea had had a boy was still on her face. I wondered what was going on in her head. She had been about to say something before her husband came in. And now she was lying to his face. There was nothing wrong with Andrea. She had given birth to a healthy baby, and was herself healthy, although weak. But something told me that it was better to trust Mrs. Flounder than to tell Mr. Flounder the truth.
Apparently, Fiona also thought so. “Yes, master. She’s bleeding out and barely holding on as it is.” She raised her bloodied hands for emphasis. She was still kneeling at Andrea’s legs, and she looked she had just taken her hands from inside Andrea’s skirt. I saw the bowl containing the placenta by the side that Fiona had quickly dipped her hand in, and knew that she was only corroborating Mrs. Flounder’s lie. Andrea wasn’t bleeding.
Despite her acting skills, Mr. Flounder remained unmoved. “Well, as long as the baby’s alright, you all can take of her yourselves. I’m not wasting money on a slave.”
Mrs. Flounder again jumped to the rescue. “The baby won’t be alright if we don’t help Andrea. A baby needs a mother’s milk within the first few hours. If Andrea dies…” She turned to face her husband, looking him in the eye. I’d never seen a slave do that. But then, she wasn’t a slave now, was she?
“All I’m asking is that we keep her alive for the baby to live.”
There were a few moments of tense silence before Mr. Flounder finally conceded. “I’ll go for the doctor. Stay here.”
“Yes, of course,” Mrs. Flounder said, bowing her head slightly. It made her look like the rest of us for a moment, and you could almost forget she was his wife.
As soon as Mr. Flounder’s footsteps receded into the snow, Grace Flounder rushed to where Andrea still lay. Grabbing the woman’s hand, she pulled her up.
“Get up! You need to leave now!”
“What are you doing? She’s weak!” Fiona tried to push Mrs. Flounder away from Andrea, but the other woman was well-built.
I decided to step in. Even though we had backed her up, we still didn’t know what was going on and why she wanted us out of there so fast.
“Mrs. Flounder?” I called. She didn’t answer. I didn’t even think she heard me. She turned to Moet and fired instructions at the girl. “Moet! I need you to go inside, and put fresh towels, food and water in a large bag. Hurry!” The girl turned without hesitation to go and do as Mrs. Flounder had asked. Fiona and I just stared in stunned wonder. Mrs. Flounder took off her outer skirt and gave it to Andrea, taking away her stained one.
“Mrs. Flounder?” I tried again. “What is going on?” This time, I touched her shoulders, and she finally looked up from what she was doing.
“You all need to go. Far away from here. Maybe across the border, even. I know a place-”
“Now hold on.” Fiona stopped her. “That doesn’t answer our question.”
“There’s no time to explain. You need to go.”
“We ain’t moving until we know what the hell is going on. Where we gonna go anyway?”
I shared Fiona’s sentiments. As much as I felt Mrs. Flounder’s urgency, we were still in the dark. I repeated the question and watched her exhale before she answered.
“Andrew is… not your regular slaver. He truly believes in the superior-inferior complex between the whites and blacks.”
Fiona stopped her again. “Lady, we know your husband’s a capital jackass. We work for him. What I want to know is why you want us to leave.”
Mrs. Flounder stopped what she was doing and looked at us. I got the gut feeling that whatever she was about to say was really bad. I was right, but I could never have imagined what she said next.
“He wants to breed slaves.”
_______________________________________
Well pardon my French, but shit's about to get real... ;-)
See you here for the next episode?
xoxo,
See you here for the next episode?
xoxo,
Ava.
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