In the Comfort Zone
I'm just over 18 weeks pregnant, which means my tummy is now big enough to look like I've had too many pies, but not quite enough to guarantee a seat on the bus. However, in cyberspace my news has clearly been travelling, and I have been bombarded with bumpf – with things I need to know, to think about or to buy. I've been ignoring most of the catalogues, and (perhaps wrongly) assuming that it is largely uneccessary stuff and hoping I'll get by on cast-offs (one cot, one changing mat, some booties and cardigans so far!). The most recent leaflet to hit the bin was for a 'Transcutaneous Electrical Nerve Stimulation' unit, which has electrodes and batteries and is designed to provide 'drug-free pain relief for labour and beyond'. Here in England, it feels as though there is a common goal to get through life with maximum comfort, convenience and minimal pain. Whether or not this is a good thing, we have become very good at it. I am fully expecting to give birth in a well-equipped hospital with gas-and-air and drugs on hand.
Fulani women don't have it so cushy. But it's not so much to do with a lack of resources, as tradition and the stoic pride of pulaaku, which means true 'Fulaniness'. While women in maternity suites all over the world are free to wail at the tops of their voices, fulani women are expected to give birth swiflty and silently. There is a rule that women in labour may hold a handful of sand in their fist and scream only when it turns to oil. A friend of Steve's told him that his wife had given birth in the house in the time it took him to brew a pot of tea outside.
Fulani culture is tough and often admirable. One of the things I love the most is the sense of community and family; the importance of visiting, greeting and spending time with each other is paramount. That's one of the reasons we think that it will be great to bring up a child in Djibo. If all goes to plan, Steve and I hope to go back next July (to avoid hot season) when the baby is 8 months old and fully vaccinated. I've had a few negative reactions to this news, from mild bemusement "Are you really going to take a baby back to Africa?", to the less gracious "that's cruelty, that is".
True, these comments were from people who aren't Christians and don't fully understand Christian mission, but it's still something that Steve and I have given a lot of thought to. We've concluded (with advice from people who've done it) that bringing up a child in West Africa is not only do-able, but a brilliant start to life. Sure, there is additional care to be taken over health and hygiene, but we think the advantages far outweigh the disadvantages. How wonderful to be brought up with a community-based, outdoor lifestyle, with animals and adventure instead of tv and toys. To understand that not everyone has running water or electricity, let alone a Nintendo Wii. To grow up speaking two (maybe even three) languages, and to know muslims as friends, not enemies. Sounds good to me.
