With
my gaze transfixed on the makeshift roof of my hut, I try to block
out the screams and yells of the newborn child that lies next to
me. Inhaling deeply, I release a bit of the exhaustion and
frustration I am feeling from being closed in for three full days
and nights. I am so tired that I cry.
"What
to do? Help!" I scream within myself. Slowly, I rise up from
the mattress and walk over to the window trying to ignore the
piercing screams of the baby. I can still feel the pain throbbing
between my legs.
"Why
does it have to hurt so much? I grimace. The typhoon rains are
unrelenting. "When will it ever hold up?"
The
baby's cries still penetrate through the strong patter of the
rains against the metal rooftop. I try to ignore them. I must get
out to find some food and water. What about the roof? I fear it
will fly off anytime. Even the weight of the tires on top of it
will not be enough to hold it in place for long. The baby still
cries. His hands wave aimlessly in the air. Slowly, I move away
from the window and pace the room. The hut whistles wildly as the
winds pass through it. The chilled air makes me think of ghosts.
His ghost.
"Why
did you sleep," says my brother's voice.
"I didn't mean to sleep," I answer. "I was tired. I
was just a child. I couldn't help it. Why did Mama leave me all
alone to take care of you? I was so tired. I was so sleepy. The
doctors did it. It was their fault and papa blamed me. He beat me
and blamed me. How could he? I was just a child. I was so
sleepy."
I
can't get away from his voice. I shudder and make my way over to
the dirty mattress, reach down and pick up the crying child. The
moldy blanket still clinging to his feet, I give him my breast to
quiet him. It doesn’t help much. He refuses to suck. He only
screams and screams making his face turn from red to purple. I
shake him to make him shut up. It doesn't help any. It only makes
him scream louder.
Angrily,
I lie him down on the damp mattress and check the cloth that wraps
his bottom. It is soaking wet and it is soiled. I remove the wet,
smelly rag from his bottom, revealing a terrible red rash. With my
nose scrunched up to avoid the stench, I wipe his bottom with the
edge of the soiled rag, get up, walk over to the window and clean
it with the rain water pouring down from the roof. I go back over
to the screaming child and continue to wipe his bottom with the
wet cloth. After he is cleaned, I have no choice but to cover his
hot, red bottom with another damp rag. None of them are dry.
Nothing ever gets dry in weather like this. I pick him up from the
bed and try to give him my breast again. This time he sucks and
falls asleep… I’m relieved.
My
weary body aches as I lie down next to the child. He lies there on
his side calm and still, oblivious to the ghosts and pounding
rains. With heavy and burning eyes, I drift off…
"Auntie,
please don't tell him he's cute. It may bring bad luck to him
because you haven't eaten yet. Mama, what's wrong with him? Look
at his eyes."
"You wait here with him. I'll get a boat."
"Mama, he's going to be alright, isn't he? It was auntie. She
made him sick. She shouldn't have told him he was cute on an empty
stomach. I told her to stop it. Now look at him."
"Doctor please help us, my son."
"We need to do some tests. I will take some blood
samples."
"Oh, Mama, is it hurting him?"
"Dear, you wait here and take care of your brother. I need to
go home, otherwise your father will be angry. I'll be back as soon
as I can."
"Don't worry little brother. I am not going anywhere. I'll
stay here with you."
"Umm. What? Little brother wake up, wake up!"
"The doctors came in while you were sleeping and they stuck
needles into your brother's head, eyes, hands and feet."
"What have you done to my brother? What have you done? Mama,
little brother is dead. I tried to stay awake, but I could not,
while I was sleeping, the doctors did something awful to
him."
"Oh, my baby. Oh my baby."
"Father I am sorry. Little brother is dead."
"How could he die? You were there with him."
"I couldn't stay awake. It was the doctors."
"It is all of your fault that he is dead. Get out of my
house. Get out and never come back."
"Sister, why did you let me die? It was all your fault. You
didn't stay awake. You only wanted to sleep. You didn't stay
awake. You let them stick needles all over me. It is your fault to
sleep. You didn't stay awake. You let them stick needles all over
me. It is your fault I am dead. Why didn't you help me? Why did
you fall asleep?"
I
cannot find my voice, but my belly starts to grow before my eyes.
I give birth to my brother. I find my voice and start screaming.
A
loud thunder cracks; the baby wakes again, screaming to the top of
his lungs. I wake, startled with sweat dripping down my face. The
storm must have wakened him. I can't see a thing. I grope around
for the screaming child, grab him up from the mattress and put him
to my breast to suck. He doesn't want to suck and continues to
scream. He cries throughout the night as the storm roars on and
with the dawn as it approaches. I can't take it anymore. I shout
through the screams of the baby and the pounding rains trying to
shut out both him and the storm. Only by closing my ears with my
thumbs can I escape from the noise.
I
rock back and forth on the mattress. I am in my own world.
"Why did you sleep?" the voice rings inside of my head.
An angry gust of wind blows in through the window and the rain
gushes in. I try to cover the window opening with a piece of paper
with little success. After a few minutes, the wind blows it away
again, sending it flying across the room. "Damn, damn,
damn!" I cry as I drag the dirty mattress with the baby lying
on it screaming, along with all of our belongings, to the other
side of the room. I need to get out of here and find some food and
water. The baby cries. Perhaps I can make it over to the neighbors
shack. I open the door, but only a little so that the wind does
not rip it off. It's impossible. The alleys are flooded and the
winds will blow me down. I struggle to close the door against the
winds. I put all of my weight into it and finally it slams shut.
Tired,
I sit on the floor with my face buried in my hands. The baby still
cries and the storm roars on. What to do? I have no food and no
water. Who will help me? Where can I go? The hut shakes and
rattles with the strong winds and the ceaseless pounding of the
rains on the metal roof. The baby screams. I am frightened.
"Why did you sleep," my little brother's ghost calls.
"Why did you sleep?"
"Where
can I go? Who will help me?" I can't stand it any longer. I
start to shout over the baby's screams and torrents of rain
holding my fists to my ears.
"Stop
it! Stop it!" I scream.
"Why did you sleep? calls his ghost.
I
get up from the floor and go over to the screaming child. I kneel
down shouting, "Be quiet! Shut up! Shut up!"
Neither
the wind nor the rain is silenced. But the child can be silenced.
I take the dirty, damp pillow that lies next to him and put it
over his face and push down hard.
"Shut
up," I scream. "Shut up!" I remove the pillow from
the baby's face. He sleeps silently as the storm roars on.
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