In the backseat of the old car Miriam felt her muscles tighten again, arching her back against the pain she gritted her teeth. She was furious. She should be on her way to the hospital now, but instead she was crossing the country in Yusuf’s brother’s car, fleeing from the occupying forces who ruled their homeland. Her people were being “cleared out” forced to leave their homes, tomorrow the tanks would roll in and it had been decided that Yusuf and Miriam would head north to stay with Yusuf’s cousin.
Miriam was grateful to have somewhere to go, grateful that Yusuf had married her, stood by her, she’d barely turned 16 when she’d had to tell him about the baby, her plans for college put on hold. They’d got married quickly and tongues wagged, but Miriam ignored them. She knew how important this baby was. This baby would bring justice to her people, this baby would change the world.
As the contraction passed Miriam tried to relax back in the seat, stroking her belly she sang to her unborn child. She sang the song she’d written when she found out about him….”glory to the Lord” she sang sweetly “God has scattered the proud” she continued “brought down the rulers….. Lifted up the oppressed…… filled the hungry….starved the rich”
In the rear view mirror she saw Yusuf shaking his head
“What? I thought you liked my song?”
“I do, but it’s hardly a lullaby Miriam” he rounded the corner “we’re here, are you okay?”
It was dark and all the windows of the house were lit, warmth seemed to exude from every brick. Before Miriam could answer Yusuf’s cousin was at the car, opening the door, helping her out “come on, let’s get you inside before that baby arrives”
In the house they were led to the basement. Yusuf’s extended family were apologetic, they had a guest room but Miriam and Yusuf weren’t the only ones who had been moved on; cousins, aunts and uncles filled every room of the house already. Children ran from room to room, excitedly exploring, aunts fussed in the kitchen, vying to show their appreciation by cooking, men pottered round the house, lamenting their lost homes and their inability to provide stability for their families. Miriam felt bewildered amongst these strange people. She wished her mum were here. Yusuf’s cousins had tried their best to offer a welcome. A futon had been laid out, covered with blankets and towels, a lamp was plugged in beside it giving off a homely glow and on the other side, an old crate had been cleaned up and lined with sheets and blankets, a makeshift cot for the new arrival. Miriam doubled over again, the contractions were getting closer now.
Before she knew it the basement was full of women, women holding her, encouraging her, telling her when to breathe, when to push, women with warm water and towels, mothers and grandmothers all of them, their collective wisdom and experience, ushering new life into this world.
Miriam gazed down at her little boy, everything that ever was, and ever will be, gazed back at her. In this home, this meagre home, filled with love Miriam saw the face of God.
