Rain season

This morning my guesti dada told me we were going to the health clinic. "Why?" I asked, wondering why our usual routine of heading up to the chai house was thrown off this morning. She said something about going to see a woman who had given birth, and off I was led, along with our neighbor and her two small daughters. 

Swahili side note: in this language, only animals "give birth". Women "open themselves", which is supposed to be a euphemism but to me seems kind of graphic. Going along with human/ animal differences: only people are "killed". Animals are "slaughtered".

We filed into a small dim room that was filled with two beds, a bench, and a chair or two. A young woman languished on one of the beds, wrapped in blankets. It took me a moment to figure out that the birth was over (thankfully) and that the newborn was there next to her, swaddled in kangas and sleeping. The room was filled with other women, many of whom had their own small children. One woman was feeding her toddler porridge out of a stainless steel cup. 

As we left I asked my dada when the mother would name her child, and she said it would be tomorrow. Here in Tanzania they do not give babies names right away. 

The rains are persistent today. Our water drum in the courtyard is full again.