“Each woman that we meet is a mirror to ourselves because we can be one of those women.” – Fouizia Bara
I look down and my hands gently stroke my belly. Nine months of waiting for the fourth time. Therese, Fanny and Leon are waiting for me, but I don’t know if I’ll be able to get back to them this time.
I’m going straight to the MSF healthcare facility, but I fear it’s too late. Last time I was lucky enough to get out of it alive: I had pregnancy complications, high blood pressure and a serious infection. I gave birth to twins but Leon’s brother died after a few hours. I remember vividly his little legs kicking in the air: he was born a fighter, just like everyone else here in Congo.
Marie, 26 years old, was the one that changed my perspective. She was in the same room as me when Leon was born and she was one of the victims among the 48 cases of sexual assault estimated every day. She needed assistance because she tried to abort in unsafe conditions. I will never forget the look she gave me, the look of someone that couldn’t afford another child, hopeless beautiful chocolate-coloured eyes. Her lovely body covered in blood lied next to me. Marie died, her face contracted in an expression of pain: it was in that moment that I understood how that could’ve easily been me. My image reflected in her irises was the only way she had to scream her story and her light to live.
Today I’m here, carrying my fourth baby, but I can sense something is off. The contractions are irregular, my heartbeat is rising. I feel dizzy and I lay down. My head is pounding and I don’t know if I can take this pregnancy anymore. I don’t know if I can take this world anymore: a world where wars tear people apart before death takes them, a world where being a mother is a challenge in many countries.
The last thing I see before closing my eyes is the image of a group of women, mothers, young girls that run to help the doctors and the obstetricians. “Women caring for women” they say. But suddenly I can’t hear them anymore and everything around me is blurred. With every inch of strength I manage to gather I put a smile to let them know that it’s okay if they can’t save me because now I found hope for my children and the future generations. The look of love in their eyes is the last thing I see as a tear runs down my cheek because I heard the little heartbeat inside of me stopping before they could pull my child out.
I feel the warmth of their little soul tied to mine and I close my eyes for the last time.
“These women […] are looking for people who care about them.” – Fouizia Bara
Autori: Maria Giovanna Duranti
Classe e scuola: 4F Liceo Scientifico Benedetto Rosetti, San Benedetto del Tronto AP
Insegnante di riferimento: Adelia Micozzi