"Masta, masta!" I woke from a deep sleep, to a pitch-black
room - where was I anyway? "Masta, masta" again,
accompanied by a knock on the door. As George roused, I remembered we
were in Kunjingini, along the Sepik River, where we had been giving a
retreat to the grade 5 and 6 students at the school. Father Roman was
our host, and after a great meal and a good visit in the evening, we
had tumbled, exhausted, into our bed in the small guesthouse at the
back of his house. 'Masta, masta meri bilong yu i mas i kam, na
helpim meri bilong mi". We were both awake now, and recognised
the voice of Father Roman's cook, Rueben, a married man with six
children whose wife was expecting another one any day. His message,
addressed to George as "masta", though he really wanted me,
was "your wife must come and help my wife."
We quickly dressed, grabbed our flashlights and headed out the door.
Reuben took us to where Monica was in labour. While I could see she
was labouring, she made no noise, and then told me in a whisper, in
Pidgin, that "this one was different, it wasn't the same as the
other babies; this baby didn't want to come out." I trusted her
judgement and decided she needed to be transported to Maprik, two
hours on a bumpy road, where there was a doctor, a nurse, and
equipment for a Caesarean section if needed.
Father Roman drove, Reuben sat in the front of the truck with him,
and George, Monica and I settled in the back where she could lay down
or squat as she chose, and off we headed for Maprik. The night was
beautiful - warm, most and brightly lit with a full moon that in the
tropics looks twice as big as what we were used to in Canada. The
road was indeed rough, and I worried with each bounce about the pain
that Monica was experiencing. After a few big bounces, she grabbed my
hand and asked to be helped to the squatting position, the position
in which Papua New Guinean women always give birth. As George and
helped her and supported her in the position, she announced loudly
that the baby was indeed coming! I grabbed the "lap laps"
(cloths) we had with us and laid them under Monica, as George shone
the flashlight. Monica was right. The baby's head emerged and as
Monica pushed, I received, turned, and lifted the baby girl out into
the moonlight night. A quick wipe of mucus from her face and the baby
took in a breath and let out a yelp signalling, as it has through the
ages, on all continents, "I am here"! Monica grinned,
George laughed, and I marvelled at the beautiful baby girl I held in
my arms.
We shouted at Father Roman to turn around and head back to Kunj, as
the baby had arrived. The placenta was delivered by the time we
arrived back in Kunj, and Reuben took it to bury beneath his house,
as it was his duty to do. We helped Monica get settled with her new
baby and went back to our beds, but were far too excited to sleep. We
relived every moment of the great privilege that we had experienced.
We saw Monica, Reuben and the baby before we left Kunj the next day,
wishing everyone well and receiving their thanks for assistance. A
few weeks later, Father Roman was in Wewak for supplies and reported
that all were doing fine. "Do you want to know what they named
the baby when they had her baptized last Sunday" he asked with a
sly grin. Before I could answer, he said, "She is named Marlene,
after the nurse who helped her come into the world in the back of a
truck on a moonlight night"
Welcome
to the site of the TransCanada Province of the Spiritans. We are a
Roman Catholic Religious Congregation of over three thousand members,
founded in 1703. Our missions are spread worldwide. While we may be
found involved in many diverse ministries, we have dedicated
ourselves to working with the poor and in those situations where the
Church has difficulty in finding ministers. We hope you enjoy your
visit to our site and that while browsing you will keep us in your
prayers. May God bless you.
