No More Patience

Patience was going to have a baby.

It was to be her very first baby. She and her boyfriend Momolu were excited. They wanted a baby, they were ready for it. They have been waiting for it.

Finally!

They knew each other since high school. But the war separated them and sent them running for their lives. Patience ended up in a refugee camp in Cote d’Ivoire and Momolu found himself on the ruthless streets of Conakry, Guinea. They have lost contact for many long devastating years, not knowing whether the other is still alive. But they survived. And found each other again after it was all over. Now they were going to have a baby. And they were well prepared.

Patience’s restaurant business was doing great. She found the right location to serve her Liberian delicacies. It was a small, but neat place on Bye-Pass where the major routes come together and streets are bustling with people. So many customers. During the lunch time it was always packed. Her pepper soup was the best in the area. Check rice and palm butter were selling well too, but nothing like her pepper soup.

Momolu’s plumbing contracts brought in a decent income as well. He had several plumbing and other maintenance contracts with private residences and businesses around town. Maintenance was a good business. There is always a plumbing problem somewhere.

They saved up and were able to find a nice place in Paynesville. A two bedroom house, so that the baby could have its own room. A luxury, indeed. The house had charming surroundings with banana and mango trees casting an afternoon shade that moderated incessant heat of the tropical city. There was even space for a kitchen garden. Patience really wanted a kitchen garden. She already had an outline sketched in her mind. Now she could grow her on cassava and collard greens and not have to buy overpriced vegetables at the local market anymore. Life in the city was expensive. But Patience and Momolu were doing well.

The baby made them wait. They have been trying for a couple of  years now. And finally in December she got pregnant. What a joyous day that was when she discovered it.

Few months later, in March, Ebola has reached Liberia. Patience heard about this horrible disease on the radio. But there was no reason for concern. There were only a few people ill far away in Lofa county. It will be stopped soon. It will never reach Monrovia.

Over the coming months Patience and Momolu have painted the house. Patience bought some baby clothes. In white and yellow, as she didn’t know whether it will be a girl or a boy. And she had planted her kitchen garden. She had gone to her prenatal visits to the clinic regularly. She was in good health and in an even better spirit. She was going to have a baby.

She was seven months pregnant when Ebola crisis broke out in Monrovia, as if from hell. Where did it come from? How? What happened? What went wrong?

Ebola descended onto Monrovia, spiraling out of control. Health workers started dying in numbers. Hospitals got infected. And were closed down. Clinics closed down too. Health workers were afraid to come to work. Ebola kills. Quickly and silently.

Patience could no longer find a health facility where she could do her prenatal examinations. She tried. She has been all over town. “OK”, she thought. “I’m in good health and things will get better by the time I am due. Hospitals will re-open.”

Little did she know that the crisis was to escalate. It was not getting better, it was getting worse by the day. That it will take far too long to provide safe health care services again.

It was early August. She didn’t feel well that morning. She was tired and stressed. Things were not going well. Many people from her village in Kakata district have died. Fourteen of them, to be precise. One after the other. Ebola kills. She knew them all. They were her neighbors, her friends. But she knew better than to attend any funeral. She knew that this is how Ebola is transmitted. People touching dead bodies at funeral rituals. But people in the village didn’t listen, they refused that Ebola burial teams collect the dead bodies. They were burying them in secret, at night.

Her business was not going well either. People didn’t want to come. They were scared of Ebola. Many lost their jobs. Ebola. Also, they didn’t want to spend money like that anymore. They didn’t know what is coming. Better to keep the money. Momolu’s contract jobs also became few and far in between. Many people left the country, so there wasn’t much work to be done. And the baby was on the way.

She left the restaurant early. She needed a rest. She was having a stomach pain and that wasn’t good. While walking towards a taxi stand her stomach pain became unbearable. Piercing and burning. Contractions followed. Blood started gushing down her legs. She was horrified. She hurried. She needed to get to a health facility quickly.

One after the other they were closed. Or have turned her down. All too afraid of Ebola.

She was getting weaker. But she kept on moving. She was determined to find an open hospital or a clinic. She kept on going.

Finally, after hours of desperate attempts to find a health facility willing to assist her, she had reached her last resort. The last clinic. She knew she couldn’t go any further. She lost too much blood. Her head was light. She couldn’t stand on her feet anymore. She was losing consciousness.

Her entry was denied.

She sat down on the dirt floor. She tried to call Momolu. To let him know that she had tried. With all her energy drained she was unable to dial his number on the cell phone.

She laid down on the ground.

…

There is no more patience for losing Patience.