‘The staff ensure that mothers and their babies have the best possible care,’ Clementine said. ‘If, when you finish your training, you can work with them in an outreach capacity then the mothers and babies will be safer and you will lower the incidence of mortality.’ A deep murmur of approval ran through the room.
Sofia was becoming increasingly worried that the women might lose their enthusiasm if their imaginings of what was being offered exceeded the reality. Fatima must have been thinking the same thing because she interrupted Clementine to explain the advantages, but also the limits, of the work the midwives might be offered.
‘The clinics cost too much money and they don’t always have the medicines we need,’ added Kamelah, whose husband had died two years previously. She and her children were now living under her brother-in-law’s roof, and unless he was able to find her a husband she would be forced to continue relying on the goodwill and handouts of the brother-in-law and his resentful wife. Failing an offer of a second marriage, the only alternatives for Kamelah and her three children were to live on the streets, or for the brother-in-law to take her as his second wife. Sofia hoped for the latter, which reminded her again just how far her values had shifted since arriving in Afghanistan. Not so long ago she would have been appalled at a woman becoming anyone’s second wife. Now she could see it as a benefit.
It reminded her, yet again, how few absolutes there were and how naïve she had been when she’d first arrived. Boundaries shifted. Judgements were suspended. Her friends back in Australia would have said she had abandoned the feminist cause, but this had nothing to do with feminism. This was reality, and reality trumped ideals every single day of the week when you needed to feed your children.
As Sofia listened to the conversation she took a moment to look around the room. She decided she would speak to Clementine about widening the brief for the ones she saw as more competent. With extra training and the right support, they would also become extraordinary educational assets back in their villages but perhaps also in the MSF clinic.
For the next two hours Sofia gave the women their last lesson, a little nervous with Clementine watching on, but when she had invited her to participate Clementine had thrown her hands in the air, explaining that Dr Sofia was the expert while she was more of an administrator these days. As the time to leave drew ever closer, Sofia could feel her heart constricting. Would she ever see any of these women she had grown so fond of again, or know what happened to them? She thought not. When the time came to say her goodbyes the words got stuck in her throat, until Clementine reached across and took hold of her hand. It was all she needed.
‘You all mean so much to me,’ she said, looking at their faces as the sob rose in her throat again. ‘I can’t even begin to tell you how sorry I am not to be able to finish your training and see you all become midwives, but I do believe Dr Clementine and MSF will be able to step in and finish it for you. If this is somehow not possible I know deep in my heart that each of you will use the knowledge you have gained in the workshops to help back in your communities. I wish every one of you the very best and, insha’Allah, we will meet again very soon.’
As they all stood the women began crowding around Sofia, thanking her for her support and telling her how much they would miss her too until Fatima said she would like a group photo. This caused a little concern at first for some of the women who were unveiled, but Fatima assured them that the photo was only for her own memories and would never be shown to anyone.
‘Dr Sofia, you must stand in the middle,’ Fatima said, directing the women with her hands until Sofia was standing where she wanted her to be.
‘Why don’t I do it?’ Clementine asked, holding her hand out for Fatima’s phone. ‘You should be in the photo too.’
Looking flustered, Fatima handed the phone over to Clementine before positioning herself on the outside of the group. Directing them all to move in a little closer, and Fatima to stand in the middle beside Sofia, Clementine took three photos. When she asked Fatima if she’d like to check any of the photos she declined to look, although the rest of the women crowded in.
‘She loves you,’ Clementine said to Sofia as they stood to the side watching the women pass the phone around.
‘I love her too.’
‘Maybe not in the same way.’
Sofia didn’t reply. She knew the way Fatima felt about her and it was none of Clementine’s business. Sofia had been thinking about Clementine’s reassuring touch and how she might need to reassess her opinion of the woman, then her words had spoilt it.
Turning away, Sofia collected her overnight bag before making her way out into the courtyard where she found Tawfiq and Daniel sitting on the sandstone wall with Fatima’s guard.
* * *
‘HOW DID IT go?’ Daniel asked.
‘Good. You should ask Clementine,’ Sofia said, dropping the bag on the ground and sitting down beside him.
He looked at her for a couple of seconds before turning to Clementine, who had followed Sofia out. ‘Clem?’’
‘It was good. I think we can work together if the women agree. Anyway,’ she said, shading her eyes as she looked for the two security guards who she found smoking outside the gate, ‘I better get back to the clinic. There’s a lot to do before I leave tomorrow. I’ll see you guys back in Kabul.’
It had been agreed that one of the
