Short Story: A Failure In Trust #1

imwatsi (67)in #writing • 7 years ago

Image Credits: Image of broken-hearted woman sourced from Nevit Dilmen (Sunset_02459.jpg; Broken_Heart_symbol.svg) via Wikimedia Commons

We've all been in situations where we had to trust another human being with our lives or the lives of our loved ones. In a hospital—trusting the doctors and nurses to make the right judgements, and give the right prescription and perform the right procedures. Even in a cab or on a flight—trusting the driver or pilot(s) to get you to your destination safe and sound.

It's a part of life that we cannot do without, but it's the other side of the situation I want to bring light to: when things go wrong.

What happens when trust leads you to harm? When circumstances collectively cause bad things to happen, and not one person can be blamed, or held accountable. When the basis of that all-too common, and often times passive, trust is brought to question.

"How did this happen? What caused it? Who could have prevented it, and why didn't they prevent it?"

These are all questions that can arise when bad things happen, and answering them is often debatable.

CHAPTER ONE

James wipes sweat from his forehead, as he struggles to gain, somewhat, control over the ox-driven tiller in front of him. He shouts and curses at his beasts, striking their backs with a whip.

The animals respond well to his messages, and move in a sort of straight, but wavy line towards the other end of the field.

It is around nine in the morning and the heat is already unbearable. It is an unpleasant experience but someone has to do it. Without tilling the land, he will not plant crops, and without planting crops he will not have food to eat.

He lives in rural Zimbabwe and like most of his neighbours, his family's survival depends on subsistence farming. For the past ten years, he has managed to plant and harvest enough food for himself and his family.

For extra income, he works part-time, maintaining the gardens of houses in a middle-density urban settlement, about a hundred kilometres away from his rural house. He commutes and stays there for a few days, and goes home when his work is done.

He doesn't earn much, when one considers the salary of a full-time gardener in the same area. But even those with full-time employment are living well below the poverty datum line, and are considered to be living in poverty.

His earnings are just enough to buy basic goods for his family. Soap, cooking-oil, salt and the like; with just a little left over to cater for his alcoholic needs.

Dust rises up in front of him, as he trails behind the machine. He inhales a good amount of it, but his lungs seem to have developed some level of tolerance, and he doesn't sneeze or cough at all.

Moving around in the field, part of his mind is dealing with the mundane task in front of him, but a larger part is trying to deal with recent developments in his life.

His wife, Ruth, is around nine months pregnant and is due to give birth to their second child any time soon. She's receiving prenatal care at one of the donor-supported hospitals in Zimbabwe, that were founded by church missionaries. They offer cheaper healthcare access to the poorer communities.

He's worried about his wife's health. When she gave birth to their first child, she had prolonged labor, and almost had a Cesarean section performed on her. James was relieved when she delivered, because he did not trust anyone enough to let them put Ruth under the knife.

That gave them quite a scare, and they agreed to not have a baby for a while, until they were adequately prepared for it. Well, they felt ready this time and gave it a shot.

They took extra precautions throughout the nine months of this pregnancy. James sent Ruth to the hospital for check-ups at all the important stages. Monthly visits up to the twenty-eighth week, fortnightly from week 28 to week 34, and then the final visit at week 36 where she had to stay at the facility until she gave birth.

No abnormalities were discovered during the regular check-ups and everything seems to be going well. He does not expect his wife to face any problems with this particular pregnancy.

He finishes the portion of land he intended to till, and decides to rest. He sits on a rock positioned under a leafy tree, and enjoys a cool breeze blowing on his sweaty body. Thoughts of his wife continue to dominate his mind.

It's her fifth day at the place and he hasn't heard of any complications. He has been talking with Ruth on the phone at least once a day since she went, and she says she's fine, though she complains of frequent headaches.

As he sits and ponders, he hears a small voice calling out to him. His eyes fix on the figure of a young child, running toward him. As the child gets nearer, he recognizes that it's Joe, his neighbour's youngest son.

Joe arrives, a cloud of dust following him. His bare feet left countless footsteps on the barren and lifeless ground that constitutes James' yard.

"Joe. What is it?"

"Your phone. It was ringing," Joe says, stretching out his arm and exposing a small cellphone in his hand.

He is four years old, and stands about three feet tall. He's breathing heavily, his chest moving to the quick and short breaths he's taking. His body is covered with dust; knees and elbows scraped and bruised from playing with his friends.

James takes the phone and thanks the child, who quickly runs back to his friends.

Anxious to know who had called him, James quickly checks the missed calls on the phone. It's the hospital.

One of the nurses working at the hospital had agreed to convey information on Ruth's condition to him, upon discovering that they were related. She has been updating James from day one of her stay.

The phone is prepaid, and has enough credits to make a call, so James calls the nurse.

Their conversation doesn't last long though—Ruth is in labour, and it seems to be a prolonged one, as she is now in her eighteenth hour.

James is rattled by the news. He wishes that he had heard about his wife going into labour earlier. It's almost midday, and going back eighteen hours would take you to around sunset the previous day. If they had called him then, he would have gone to the hospital. He would have been with Ruth, giving his support as she went through with it.

He eventually finds no point in complaining over what should have or could have been done, and he focuses on the issue at hand. He needs to get to the hospital, fast.

James fetches some water from his well; just one bucket. He uses it to wash himself, before changing clothes.

In little under thirty minutes, he's dressed and ready to go. He mentally goes over the list of things he needs for the visit and stay. Clothes, blankets, and money—that which he was saving for the past six months or so.

When he's satisfied with his inventory, he leaves his house, and heads for the bus stop along the highway. He stops by his neighbour's house to inform him of the developments, and also to leave a message for his daughter to hear when she comes back from school. James' daughter is six years old, and is enthusiastic about the addition of a new member to the family.

Over the years, she frequently asked her parents why she didn't have a brother or sister. A question that neither one of them could properly answer. Now that a baby is on the way, she's obsessed with the subject. She even suggested a couple of names they could give to her sibling. To say that she's excited or thrilled is to understate what she is actually experiencing.

James tells his neighbour about Ruth being in labour, and that he's going to the hospital to be with her and assist in any way he can. He also leaves a message for Susan (his daughter), and goes to the bus stop.