For the Love of Buckets

If you ever get the chance to give a gift to a Tanzanian Mama let me tell you that a bucket is the perfect thing to buy her. It took moving to the village for me to fully appreciate the love Mamas have for their buckets. While running a small shop at the mission base for our Tanzanian staff I used to chuckle at the intense way the Mamas sought after the empty 20L oil buckets. Whole conversations would revolve around who wanted which colour and resulted in our making a “bucket list” of upcoming receivers that was often over fifteen people long! Woe to the person who tried to jump that queue and anybody who gave a bucket out to somebody other than the next in line!

Now that we live with our only water source as a large tank outside I have come to love my buckets just as much as the next Mama. I can rattle off an inventory of my buckets including colour and who might have recently borrowed them and not given them back! You see, buckets become such an integral part of life in the village you really can’t do without a nice stash of them. Buckets are used of course for collecting and storing water but also they are used for bathing, washing clothes, washing dishes, mopping the floor, storing and measuring grain, sitting on, standing on and when they have endured all that one humble bucket can endure in it’s lifetime they are relegated outside to be used as flowerpots.

One thing my buckets don’t do is take the trek over 1km to the nearest village tap. Fortunately we are able to buy our water in bulk and store it in our tank outside or collect rainwater off our roof but many of my neighbours make the trip about three times per day, bucket on head, to collect their water. Recently our water ran out and I declared that I was joining them, bucket already on my head but fortunately or unfortunately, my husband Gody had already called the water truck and I never got the chance.

Once I was entertaining Maika in his stroller outside and my neighbours came past, buckets on their heads. One of the girls was keen on swapping duties with me so as Maika careened into maize plants and potholes while gripping on tightly to his stroller I wobbled along trying to keep the full 10L bucket on my head. By the time we reached their house, perhaps 200m away, my arms were aching and I had already had my bucket bath for the day by the amount of water I spilled on myself along the way. I’ve completely given up any dreams I had of being able to walk along gracefully (no hands) with a 20L bucket on my head. 

These days as Maika crawls around our house getting into anything he can find, my buckets have become something of an enemy. I take stock every morning of any buckets with water in them that either have to be put outside or fitted with a lid lest they be emptied onto our floor or worse. Even so, I’m still quite fond of my buckets and if you’re coming out our way I’ll take an orange one thanks!

Being Mama Maika

“Mama Maika…Mama Maika…Mama Maika!” I snap out of my reverie and receive the large steaming cup of loshoro handed to me by my neighbour. As I sip the greyish mix of curdled milk mixed with fresh maize (definitely an acquired taste) and watch the sun go down, Maika is happily cuddled up to a young girl watching the cows graze in the field. I take the time to reflect on the past few months and the journey it has been to become Mama Maika.

When you choose the name of your firstborn child in Tanzania you have to be very careful as this name will replace yours as well. Gody and I counted on having at least a month in Australia to decide on names so only casually discussed our ideas before we left. Then once our baby was born along the way we suddenly found ourselves with one night to decide before his birth certificate had to be filled out the next morning! After a short discussion we quickly settled on Maika as it means there is nobody like God and certainly God was there with us during the eventful day Maika was born. Instead of Gody and Corinne we were now Mama and Baba Maika.

Our return to Tanzania from a blissful two months in Australia was fairly smooth, except for the fact that we had to borrow a 4WD from the missionary base to get to our house as it had been raining hard that morning and our dirt roads had turned to sticky mud. Settling in was easy for Maika and I was thankful for the resilience of small babies. It was a little harder for me as I had never missed Australia, my friends and family so much as now. Returning to an unfinished house with three guys living in it, minimal water, no electricity and a constant stream of visitors for the first week proved a challenge. It was also the middle of the rainy season which meant that most days I couldn’t get out of the house even if I wanted to.

It didn’t take too long though and after a while Maika and I settled into a routine. We replaced buckets with plastic chairs (breastfeeding while sitting on a bucket is NOT recommended!) and later on couches and a tiled floor replaced our dusty rough concrete one. The rain eased off and I was able to get out a little and visit my friends. I became adept at washing nappies by hand as Maika became used to being bundled into his front pack and taken either on foot or by our motorbike to different places. I learned to dress him in a beanie and socks when heading outside whatever the weather and he learned to put up with this. Recently I learned to tie him on my back and he learned to lie still while this is happening. There has been lots for me to learn about life as a Mama here and it has been a most humbling experience but I treasure the new understanding I am gaining of how life is for my Tanzanian Mama friends. So often we in the West think that we come to a third world country to teach people our ways of doing things and right now I am finding the roles reversed as my Tanzanian friends teach me their ways of doing things which fit in with life here.

Life is slower here and although daily tasks take much more time as everything is done by hand I am thankful for the time I have to visit with people such as my neighbour. It’s good to just sit back and watch the cows graze while the sun sets over the maize fields. Being Mama Maika is a privilege and I am grateful for the gorgeous son God gave us as well as the place in which He set us to raise him.

On another more humorously humbling note even though I am now confident at conversing with just about anyone in Swahili I still make some funny blunders. The other day it was raining lightly and while making conversation with the motorbike taxi driver I commented on the weather. “Kuna manyonyo huku” (It’s drizzling a little here) I thought I said but further down the road he corrected me “manyunyu”. On relating the story to Gody later on to find out where I went wrong he laughed hard as I’d actually told the driver there were breasts around! Oh the differences between an “o” and a “u” in a foreign language!

The Miracle of Maika Tajos (TAnzaniaJOhannesburgSydney) Godfrey Balala

In a very unexpected turn of events, our baby was born in South Africa, at 35 weeks, while we were on our way to Australia. Here is the story of his birth, it’s a miracle that he survived and we give all praise and thanks to God for looking after him and us on that momentous day!

We arrived in Johannesburg on the afternoon of the 15^th Jan and were booked into a lovely little guesthouse for a night. At around 4am the morning of the 16^th I felt my waters break while sleeping in bed and it was such a quantity of water that I was pretty sure what had happened so woke up my husband Gody and we just sat in shock up till breakfast time, trying to think of what to do and what it might mean for our trip. We skyped my Mum to ask her to call the hospital in Aus to find out what to do and she came back with the advice to get to a hospital ASAP and NOT to get on the flight (the one thing I was just longing to do at that moment!) After breakfast I told the owner of the guesthouse what had happened and she arranged for us to go to a nearby private hospital to get checked out. I was only having some dull pain by this stage.

At the hospital they seemed more concerned with their payment than with me and told me by way of feeling my belly that my baby was in a good position and that they were too full so couldn’t admit me and I wasn’t in labour anyway so wanted to transfer me by ambulance (which was a wait of up to 2 hrs) to the nearby public hospital. We decided that we could probably walk there faster and went back to the guesthouse for some advice on different hospitals, the friendly owner suggesting she could drive us to a small public hospital about half an hour away.

On arrival at the hospital I realised that I was actually having contractions now and had to start breathing and concentrating on relaxing into them, but they were still fairly manageable and so I thought I would have quite a while to go yet. This hospital reminded me of a Tanzanian one, slow in every aspect but friendly nonetheless. I was finally seen to and a nurse told me what I had been most fearful of, the baby was breech, his legs facing downwards. The doctor then appeared and announced I was to have a caesarean right away. Having prepared all throughout pregnancy reading books, doing exercises, relaxation techniques etc. I was not just yet willing to let go of my plans for a natural birth and also was concerned about the level of care for a premature baby at this hospital if there were any complications, as they had no specific care for babies born early. So I signed myself out of this hospital and Gody and I planned on going to the larger public hospital where there was a neo-natal care section until a man that Gody had happened to befriend outside the hospital mentioned that we could have a really long wait at this hospital.

My contractions were now coming harder so that I had to pause and work through them but I still thought it may be a long way off. The name of a private hospital recommended to my Mum popped into my head and the fact that she had said my life and the baby’s life were more important that hospital fees made us decide to try going there instead.

The friendly man told us we could get there in two taxis, which confused me till we arrived where the taxis stopped and I realised he was talking about the SA version of dalla dallas (local minibus transport). Ok, so I was going to have to get on a dalla dalla, in labour, not knowing at all where we were going, in a foreign country! At least people spoke English!!

A lovely Mama on the dalla dalla said she would help us find our way to the next one and off we went, me closing my eyes during contractions and trying not to appear too much in labour for the other passengers sake!

We arrived at the end of the line and the Mama showed us across a road, through a shopping centre, up an escalator and into a bus stand. By now I was really worried what might happen if we got to this next suburb as we still had no idea where the hospital was, also the fact that none of the dalla dallas there looked like they’d go anytime soon and so we started asking for a private taxi. Apparently this was a bit of a foreign concept but we persisted and one man in a car was asked how much to take us to the hospital, the Mama seemed satisfied with the price so off we went, now the contractions were really getting there, but I still thought we were a ways off actual birth.

The driver soon realised what was happening and increased his speed, getting annoyed at anyone in the way and when he had to stop for lights. On arrival at the hospital some 20min later he told us he’d wait for us outside! I told him not to worry, we wouldn’t be back anytime soon. Heading into emergency I quickly explained some of the story and they took me up to the labour ward, Gody being left to fill in the mountains of paperwork at reception.

Up in the labour ward I was pleased to see a large birth tub, some birth balls and other things but I was soon hooked up to a monitor and sat on the bed, the nurse promising to be back in 15min. Contractions were increasing but I didn’t think this was it as I relaxed and didn’t feel like I couldn’t go on or like I was dying as I’d read about happens during the transition stage of labour. It wasn’t until I actually felt a foot come out that I realised perhaps this is it and yelled for the nurse to return to help me. The nurse rushed in and was soon followed by a doctor, who examined me and said we needed a caesarean but would have to wait till the anaesthetist was ready. Meanwhile I had to sign many different forms authorising this and that and was still hoping it might all turn out Ok with a natural birth, biding time waiting for the anaesthetist. I’d heard with skilled doctors that a natural breech birth was possible and when my body started feeling like it wanted to push I was allowed to do so three times, managing to get the baby out up to his waist when they turned me over to have to doctor examine what was going on, he said the baby was in the worst position and the head wouldn’t make it out so within the next few mins I was rushed into the theatre, given an epidural, oxygen and the emergency caesarean began.

I was aware of what was happening, briefly thought how handsome my husband looked in his scrubs and felt the doctor really pulling and working away down there to get the baby out. Afterwards he told my Mum that it was one of the hardest he had ever performed, and he’s done thousands. He cut me open, put in his hand and couldn’t grasp any part of the baby. Knowing it wouldn’t be like any textbook operation he then asked for people to push the baby back up while he tried to get a grip to get him out. After much pushing and pulling out came the baby who was rushed to the waiting paediatrician for resuscitation.

A nurse told me later that she was in theatre as this was happening and that everyone held their breath as the baby came out, wondering if it could possibly be alive after all the work to get it out. Praise God when we all heard him cry once and he was shown to Gody and I quickly before being taken to the neo-natal ward. The more we hear from the doctors and nurses the more we realise what a complete miracle it is that he is alive and well, he suffered some oxygen deprivation at birth but shows no effect of this and each day is showing amazing progress, recovering faster than anyone had predicted.

Afterwards we just couldn’t believe what had happened and where to go from now! But we know that many prayers have been said for us and Maika and we have seen God putting people in our path who have helped us along every step of the way. There has been much to do and sort out and it was such a blessing that my Mum arrived two days after Maika was born to help us and I can also thank God that he gave me a very capable husband who has just coped with this all beautifully and is already such a good father to Maika.   

We want to thank everyone who has prayed for us and supported us, the doctor predicts that all going well, Maika may be discharged from the hospital on Tuesday or Wednesday this week and his travel documents should be ready by the end of the week so we may be continuing on with our journey as early as next weekend as long as Maika is cleared to fly. Gody and I can’t think of anything better right now than arriving with him in Australia and starting our long awaited holiday, although I know all the parents out there will chuckle at me saying that it’ll be a holiday when we have a newborn baby!