I sit anxiously in the surgical waiting room this July, 2024, Tulsa morning as my hero wife undergoes a major joint-replacement procedure.* My mind drifts to memory-lane mode and a season, August of 1974, highlighted in my “Giants In The Rough” memoir.
Three years in and we were still feeling like newbies to Africa.
Our firstborn lassie – born six weeks after our arrival – tagged along with her mother to Kehancha Market.
“Mommy, that’s Bhoke and her sister, Robi. And, over there, that’s my friend Mwita with his Uncle Chacha.” Julie leaned out the window, waving, “Hi Mwita, Hi Mzee Chacha!” It seemed our three-year-old knew every name in the tribe. Smiling large, each person returned her wave.
– “Jerry, we should leave for the city soon. I’ve confirmed our room at the Mennonite.” Ever the keen planner, Ann was eager to get to Nairobi. Arrival of baby-number-two drew near. We had set a buffer period to spare us a potential hasty six-hour race from “up-country” to the delivery room.
Of the city’s handful of guest houses, the Mennonite was our favorite. When we rolled up in our Beetle, the matron, Mrs. Hostetter, welcomed us. An inviting fragrance from the kitchen vicinity wakened our taste buds. The kind hostess, her small circular head-piece in place, excused herself with, “Dinner is at 6. Enjoy your stay.”
A couple days in, Ann stirred.
“Honey, I believe it’s time; we’d better get going.”
Reaching for her small apple- red suitcase, I called back, “Okay, babe. Here we go!”
Late that same evening a nurse moved to my wife’s Nairobi Hospital beside. “Mister Buckley will see you and your fine little boy early morning, Mrs. Lout.”
We were growing accustomed, by now, to a curious practice in the world of British medicine. Specialized physicians were called, ‘Mister’ rather than Doctor.
With the arrival of each of our children (Julie, Scott and Amy) I was afforded the luxury of a ringside seat in the delivery room. By some miracle, I satisfactorily aided their mother with breathing routines through most contractions. I witnessed each precious life emerge – squalling with everything in them. Most treasured of sounds.
*Promising results!
-©2024 Jerry Lout
