Elections and Delivery!

Elections were held today. This, for me, means being stuck at site with restricted movement. You may think this is boring; being stuck in a village waiting to make sure everything is peaceful. Not so--- things are literally popping. At least, in the maternity ward in the local clinic, that is.
What? You may wonder what the heck I am doing in the maternity ward. Like a good Ugandan politician, I am visiting all my constituencies. Remember, as per the last blog, I am in my own personal life elections.
I saw what happens one to three times every day at the local clinic’s maternity ward; a baby being born. Now, of course, there was no paraffin so they couldn't light the burner to boil the water and clean the instruments, so they couldn't cut (or do anything like) operate or use forceps, even if they wanted to. Everything was REALLY REALLY "au naturale"--- more natural than any of those yoga/labor classes. There were no clothes, no sheets, no instruments. There was a piece of plastic on the torn mattress of the bed, a piece of cloth brought by the woman in labour for mopping up blood, a small basin under the bed where waste and vomit went, a small bedpan to catch the poop and urine, a string to tie the umbilical chord, and a 2 cent razor to cut it. And one pair of gloves-- oh wait, one glove didn't go on very well so three gloves, not only two, were used. Biggest component used--- cotton wads!
The child came out just fine, despite evidence that the mother had ingested a substantial quantity of local herbs—as for the type of evidence, you can guess. About two hours of watching and waiting, and in about two minutes, pop and she was out!
It was really cool seeing the nurse (they use someone with a certificate in nursing to handle the maternity ward, birthing is not important enough for the doctor or RN to deal with here) have such a vital impact on the woman in labor and the child. No, she was not writing the UN manual for childbirth procedures, but who really reads that, anyway?
You know, this life/ career crisis thing is a choice of humility. It’s kind of a “downward mobility” thing. I used to think that I didn't want something as small as treating individual people in a hospital or office.
I think I am now changing. For one, I had a spiritual conversion, in which God, the Almighty Father is a lot bigger than I used to think. So are other people, whether they be people in the rural Midwest, or rustbelt cities, or Africa. I, however, am a lot smaller. I used to have this pseudo- Messianic idea of my purpose in life. It is still there, but it is morphing into something deeper. Meaningfulness is now a lot less universal, and a lot less about being in the world's boiler room planning huge changes. For one, I am close to giving up at finding that boiler room key. Secondly, in light of the new democracy spread across the Middle East and North Africa, I don’t think that those boiler rooms should really exist. Instead, I want to be a meaningful part of other people's lives. I also see that the real power for change is in a local community.
The other thing that is happening, was happening, and will happen is death. I have known so many people to die here!!!! Whether by mysterious illness, car accident, or the omnipresent HIV and malaria, I sometimes feel as though everyone is dying. Wait, we are! I am faced with my mortality every time I see an Ebola poster or step into a taxi here, and in the light of life’s brevity, I kind of want to give something all I’ve got. Living just to get by just doesn’t make sense, especially when I have not popped out any kids to care for. These are my manifestos as I move along in my personal election. As I said, one of the outcomes is really winning, but we won’t know for sure until we tally the votes, but after that, we are moving ahead!