Monsoon Labor by Sanu Bhumiratana

Seasonal monsoon in the Andaman Sea was never strong enough to be in the headlines of any newspaper. But, it was enough to put the islanders through difficult times. One full moon night, another seasonal monsoon visited the island in the Andaman Sea. It rained for three days and three nights. On the third night, many fishermen who didn’t often pray began to pray for a clear sky. They were hungry. Three nights of heavy rains meant three nights off the sea. The small wooden fishing boat could never survive the waves and the wind. Those that insisted on fighting the monsoon often never came home. On that third night, heavy rain kept pouring down without any sign of clear sky. The only sound to be heard on this island was the sound of the rain smacking on the tin roof of these small little huts, the sound of the angry sea, and some occasional thunder and lighting. The full moon was completely covered by black clouds.

On this small island in the Andaman Sea, no fisherman dared to go anywhere that night. But the children were happy. Heavy monsoons meant that there would be no school tomorrow. Despite the loud heavy rain pouring that sounded like pebbles dropping on a metal plate, all the children in the fisherman village were sounds asleep. Wooden windows and doors of every little hut were all shut tightly, preventing the rain and the wind from blowing in. Every hut seemed asleep except for one. It was already past midnight, but this hut was still awake. The hut, like any hut in this village, was made mostly out of wood and bamboo. It stood high on four wooden poles, which looked the more fragile as the wind became stronger. Under the hut was an open space. On a sunny day, chickens would be walking around, eating rice grain and left over food. But on that night, the chickens were gone.

Above the open space, inside the hut, the fisherman, his wife, his wife’s sister, her mother and the midwife were busy. All of them had one thing in mind, to give life, and not to take any away, at least for that night. The four women were inside a small room, while the fisherman waited anxiously outside. The fisherman’s wife was pregnant. She was half sitting and half lying down on the thin old mattress. Her hands were holding on to a long strip of cloth that was tied to a wooden beam. Her face was covered with sweat and pain. Her long hair, unlike on any other day, was not wrapped behind her head, but instead spread over her shoulder, partly covering her face. She was only seventeen and her naked legs were spread wide. Next to the fisherman’s wife were her mother, her sister and the midwife. Outside the small rooms was the fisherman. He was praying.

The midwife was an old fat woman. She had short gray hair and was wearing a sarong and sleeveless shirt, showing off her sagging skin. She sat on the floor with one knee up while smacking a different kind of herb in the mortar. She mumbled something as she worked along. But neither her mumble nor the sound of the mortar could be heard. The monsoon replaced any sound with the rain and the wind. In this small island with no hospital, no one else but the midwife could bring new life to the island. The mother was heating up water on the charcoal stove, the only light and heat source for the room aside from a small candle on the shelf. The candle flame danced to the rhythm of the rain and the wind. When a strong wind blew through the closed windows, the candle came close to disappearing, but it lingered on. The mother of the fisherman’s wife waved a fan to keep the fire in the stove going with one hand and the other held a small towel to wipe off the sweat from the pregnant woman’s face. The sister supported the pregnant woman’s body with her arm while whispering something in her ear. But nothing seemed to ease to the painful expression on her face.

Not far away from the hut was a small, secluded beach. Only three days before that night, the sand on the beach was soft and white. The sun was shining and the ocean was calm. But on that night, the sky was roaring, the sea was angry and the sand was wet and hard. The strong wave slammed onto the beach and rolled back into the sea, and slammed back again. As the wave continued to roll back and forth, a large sea turtle emerged from the ocean. She struggled to crawl up on to the beach, but would only get sucked back down as the wave rolled back. The destination was the sand bunker that protected the upper part of the beach from the angry sea. A big wave came by and suddenly blew the sea turtle high onto the beach. She struggled against the suction with all her strength as she inevitably retreated down to the sea. The wave stopped rolling back and began to form another strike. The sea turtle finally escaped the suction, quickly crawled into the safety zone behind the sand bunker. She rested there for a little while as the rain continued to pour down. After a few moments, the sea turtle began to move her hind flippers, kicking them backward to dig a hole behind the sand bunker. The monsoon continued to storm onto the island, but the sea turtle was safe. She kept on digging the hole.

The fisherman waited outside the small room, anxiously. He could not hear any sound from inside because of the rain on the roof and the thunder and the wind. Inside the small room, the fisherman’s wife wrapped the cloth that was tied to the beam around her hands tightly. She pulled on the cloth, trying to hold her body upward and then clenched her stomach muscles tightly in a rhythm. She pushed and she paused. Then she pushed again. Sweats and tears dropped down from her face and body. Her mother and her sister supported her body with their arms while she clenched her stomach again and again. She screamed. Yet, no sound came out. Between her naked legs was the midwife. Her hands soaked in blood. And the thin old mattress soaked in blood, too. The water on the charcoal stove was boiling. Outside the room, the fisherman was still praying.

At the beach, the sea turtle used her hind flippers to dig a hole. The hole would be a new home for her children for the next few weeks. Once it was big and deep enough for all her eggs, she stopped. She lay on the wet sand for several minutes, perhaps contemplating on the safety of the new home. Then from the top of the hole, she began to lay her eggs. The first egg fell in the hole…. the second egg in the hole… Then third ….then fourth… then fifth…then…

It would take the sea turtle several hours to lay all the eggs. Despite the effort, less than half of all these baby sea turtles would make it out of the shell. Less than half of those would make it out to the deep ocean. Less than of that half would be able to live up to its life span of over 100 years. But most likely, none of them would ever see their mother.

Inside the hut, the heat from the stove not only heated up the water, but also the whole room. The smell of blood mixed with the steam from the boiling water filled the air. The fisherman’s wife bled for her child. The cloth that was tied to the beam was still wrapped around her hand tightly. She kept clenching her stomach. She knew that if she had succeeded, her life would be forever changed. Her tears dropped down as she screamed out of pain and out of joy. The midwife reached inside the fisherman’s wife to grab the child. But instead of finding what she usually finds inside a woman, she finds the child’s feet.

The midwife stopped moving. Yet, the fisherman’s wife continued to push. She did not know about the child’s position inside her and kept doing what she was told to do. The midwife then reached inside the woman even deeper with her left hand, while her right hand began to slowly massage the fisherman’s wife’s stomach around her naval. Blood slowly spread all over the white pale and round stomach. The midwife wanted to rotate the child around. She knew that it would not be easy, but that there was no other choice. The child may not survive otherwise. The fisherman’s wife may not survive. Outside the room, the fisherman did not know what was going on inside. He was restless, but he was also helpless. As the midwife began to turn the child around, the fisherman’s wife felt sharp pain. She screamed. Blood seeped out of the pores around her eyes as she clenched even harder to fight to pain, hoping that it would soon be over. Her mother quickly grabbed a clean cloth and wiped off the blood around her eyes. Her mother was able to wipe off the blood around her eyes and the sweat on her face, but she could not have done anything to stem the flow of blood between the fisherman’s wife’s legs. The old thin mattress turned dark red. Blood between her legs poured out non-stop. The pain was too much for her to bear. The fisherman’s wife began to lose her conscious. But she fought back and kept pushing. There no other choice for her but to bear the pain. The midwife kept on massaging the stomach as the fisherman’s wife began to lose her strength. She was no longer able to hang on to the cloth that was tied to the beam. Her mother and her sister could feel the weight of the fisherman’s wife on their hand as she began to slowly fall back. No more strength to hold on to the cloth, no more strength for her child. Her tears flowed out of her eyes as she slowly closed them….

The midwife pulled her left hand out leaving the child inside. The mother and the sister slowly laid the fisherman’s wife on the thin old bloody mattress. Despite the on going monsoon, strange silence took over the room. Outside, the fisherman was still praying.

The sea turtle finally finished with her last eggs. Slowly, she used her front flippers to sweep wet sand over her eggs. Three weeks from now, baby turtles would hatch out of their shell and began their journey back to the deep ocean. Some would make it back, and some would not. When she finished covering the hole and the eggs with sand, she lay in front of the hold for a long moment and then slowly crawled back to the ocean. She had done what she needed to do and it was time to go. She crawled back into the angry sea. The wave struck again and took the sea turtle back to the deep ocean.

The monsoon finally passed away and the sun rose again. It was the first sun in three days. The children were happy because school was cancelled and all they had to do was to clean the mess that the monsoon had left behind. The islanders were happy because they knew that fishermen would be able to take their fishing boats out again. Their prayers on the third night came true. The monsoon had passed. The sun was shining. The sea was calm. Warm sea breeze visited the island once again after three days and three nights of cold rain.

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