Along the Color Bar
1997; Indiana University Press; Issue: 73 Linguagem: Inglês
10.2307/2935446
ISSN0041-1191
Autores Tópico(s)Names, Identity, and Discrimination Research
ResumoThe doctor had said I would not arrive for another two weeks.When my mother went into labor, only Benedicto Kiwanuka, an elderly Muganda, was there to assist. The world of women was alien to Benedicto, yet he held my mother's hand and reassured her during the delivery. mother vividly recalls the moment of my birth: she was exhausted, covered with blood, wondering which one of us would die first. Benedicto reached my father in his chambers. father rushed home. At the sight of the two of us, he remarked in his characteristically laconic fashion, My that was quick. Since neither man had any idea what to do next, my father went out to find an ambulance. mother, who was German, was taken to the European hospital in Kampala, and her English obstetrician was summoned. The doctor was all business: he cut the cord, cleaned us up, and pronounced both mother and son none the worse for the ordeal. The unplanned home birth solved a rather thorny problem. Neither of the hospitals in Kampala had been willing to bend the rules for us. At the African hospital, they were hesitant to admit a white woman. Likewise, while the European hospital was happy to deal with my mother under normal circumstances, they were loathe to deliver an infant of mixed race. (My father was born in Kericho, Kenya, but his ancestral home was in Goa, India.) As it happened, we did not require much from the European hospital. Besides, the nurses there were mostly nonwhite, and they delighted in administering to a brown baby.
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