THE FOREIGN SERVICE JOURNAL | JULY-AUGUST 2026 85 and gained confidence, as I did. I worked with her until the baby’s head popped out, but it was slightly turned on one side with one shoulder appearing first. The other seemed to be stuck. I wiped the baby’s face, terrified it would not breathe. “Push,” I repeated, over and over, as I tried to lift the baby a little to free the second shoulder. Arwa breathed and pushed as I held the baby’s head off the towel. After an interminable amount of time, the baby slipped gently out of the birth canal. A little girl. She didn’t utter a sound. Concerned about the baby’s breathing, I took her heels between my fingers as I had seen in the movies and held her upside down to gently smack her buttocks. She howled, opening her mouth wide. I was both relieved and delighted. I gently wiped her little body and wrapped her up in a clean, fresh towel. I then pulled on the umbilical cord, still attached to the mother, so I could place the baby close to her mother. I laid the baby down on the mother’s abdomen and smiled at the peaceful scene. After a while I searched for the scissors and unwrapped the baby. I thought it best to leave more rather than less of the cord. I cut it, leaving a foot of cord attached to the baby. I wrapped her anew. The newly born baby settled comfortably, snuggling with her mother. All was quiet except for the gentle crashing of waves on the beach. Sometime later I heard the creaking of the oxen cart outside. In came a dignified, matronly woman, accompanied by her assistant. I bowed to her, as was the custom. She smiled on seeing mother and baby together. I tried to demonstrate that I had cut the umbilical cord about a foot from the baby’s abdomen. She nodded and recut the cord with my scissors, knotting it expertly. Since I had delivered the child, I was given a banana leaf, brought by the father to collect the placenta. It came simply with a little push. I collected the placenta, wrapped it in a leaf, and gave it to Notee, who buried the package in the sea. All was now well with mother and child. With the completion of the traditional practices following birth, I was free to leave. Every weekend thereafter, Notee knocked on our cabin door and presented us with a delicious, freshly cooked lobster, served on a tinplate. He often came to the cabin in the evening to sing and play on his homemade violin. He continued to accompany us on sailing and fishing trips in our traditional outrigger sailing canoe, even offering me his paddle, a prized possession, when our tour in Madagascar was coming to an end. What a magnificent time it was! n ELENA268/DREAMSTIME.COM A view of the thatched huts along the coast of Toliara, Madagascar.
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