I’ve been journaling diligently since I arrived in Malawi last October. One of my new year’s resolutions was to share my experiences as an important part of my reflection and growth. Looking back at my first journal entry, it is full of anticipation, apprehension and excitement. I had nine months ahead of me where I would be learning, growing and experiencing the unknown—a clean slate!
October in Malawi is the hottest time of year and I was sweating before we landed. I had travelled to Africa twice before, but this time felt like such a long journey. Two days of planes, busses, airports, terrible food and way too much T.V., and we had finally arrived. The first couple weeks hit me like a ton of bricks—leaving the familiar, the safe, the known and jumping into this new culture as a woman, I suddenly felt like my freedom had been stripped from me. I could no longer drive myself wherever I wanted to go, walk alone at night, or have my knees exposed. I felt like a caged bird; the gender inequality affected me immediately and I didn’t like it.
The reunion was such a wonderful moment. It had been 14 months since I had seen my mom and dad (missionaries Rev. Ed and Jackie Hoekstra) and I fell into their arms and didn’t want to let go. The saying, “Absence makes the heart grow fonder” is so true. I love them so much and I take them for granted! As the weeks went by it was fun to share stories and experiences from the year that had been missed.
Getting my midwife certification in Malawi was more difficult than I anticipated. I had to travel to Lilongwe (Malawi’s capital) which is a four-hour bus ride away to speak to the Nurses and Midwives Council of Malawi, have an interview, show them my Canadian certification and pay a fee. Everything went smoothly and I started my two weeks’ orientation at a government hospital in Blantyre the next week.
On my first day, I was thrown into the labour ward and resuscitated two babies. Queen Elizabeth hospital has an average of 19 births per day so it is busy! I was supposed to have someone orient me to the labour ward but everyone was too busy so I was left alone to find babies to catch. There was no stethoscope to be found so I was happy that I had brought my baby one with me for the resuscitations.
It is difficult to put into words the impressions from those first two weeks. The hospital felt like a baby mill, and I struggled with watching midwifery practices that were outdated and unreasonable while trying to remain accepting and non-judgmental. I kept wondering what these women thought of me—this white girl from Canada trying to tell them about having babies in Malawi. The truth is that I have so much more to learn from them—I have no idea what it is like to be a young woman in Malawi faced with challenges such as lack of education, gender inequality, HIV/AIDS, access to birth control … I know so little.
The biggest challenge of those first two weeks was watching routine, unnecessary episiotomies and fighting to steal the scissors away whenever I felt the procedure wasn’t required. I realized it was a race against the clock; getting these women through the door so there was enough room for the nextwoman to give birth. The result being if you couldn’t push your baby out fast enough, you would get rushed into intervention practices regardless of the consequences.
The highlight of those two weeks was on my last day when my mom came to pick me up and I was with a woman who was about to give birth so I said, “Mom, come in here. We’re about to have a baby!” My mom helped me bring a new baby into the world and then another one. We were providing labour support to a first-time mom who was really scared and my mom was helping hold up her legs while I was helping her push—it was such an amazing experience for us to share together.
