Becoming a Mother Amongst the Maasai in Tanzania

On this blog, a Mama, Stephanie, with a quite fascinating and inspiring life, is going to share with us her birth story. First, let me introduce who she is. 

Stephanie is a mother of one boy. She is a German native biologist and a conservationist. Her passion for nature and conservation led her to volunteer work in Tanzania at a young age. While she was with the research camp in Mafia Island, south of Zanzibar Island, she met her husband, Sokoine. 

Sokoine is a Maasai, an indigenous ethnic group in Tanzania. Stephanie moved in with his extended family in their traditional Maasai home, boma, where she is currently living and raising their son. 

Despite her western upbringing, Stephanie blends quite well into the Maasai lifestyle and has managed to live with them for over a decade now. Also, as you may imagine, adjusting to the traditional Maasai life made her face many challenges, including during childbirth & postpartum, which you will learn more from her birth story. 

In addition, you can check her Instagram page for more stories. She also wrote a book in Germany. (preorder here)   

Now, let’s get into the birth story.

Written by : Stephanie Fuchs

Becoming a Mother Amongst the Maasai in Tanzania

I had dreamed of a natural birth. Of course. Don’t we all?

I was dreaming of a natural birth yet I did not quite trust my body. I knew I did not trust myself, because why else was I considering a hospital birth in the big city Dar es Salaam, instead of a home birth, attended by traditional Maasai midwives.

I had been living among my husband’s people, the Maasai of Tanzania, for four years now. I had witnessed births of women, home births, attended by only their female relatives and the traditional birth attendant.

I was amazed at how easy and safe birth seemed for them. And still I did not trust that it would be the same for me. I was 29 then.

Now, looking back I understand the struggle in my head. I understand that back then I was torn between wanting to honour my trust in Maasai women and having a home birth with them and my western conditioning that had taught me that birth was dangerous and that homebirths were irresponsible.

My son is nearly seven years now. And still I am processing the trauma I was exposed to during and after my birth. I don’t have another child, I don’t think I want one. And I know that the reason for that is that I am scared. Scared of losing myself again the way I lost myself after the birth of my son Yannik. Scared of being lost, depressed and unhappy again.

My husband Sokoine and I decided to leave our Maasai village two weeks before due date and travel to Dar es Salaam, the biggest city in Tanzania where I should have my baby in hospital. I thought I was making the smart choice.

On 13^th February 2016 I felt contractions early in the morning. A friend of mine who had had her first baby only two months previously had told me that contractions felt like period pain….only stronger.

All through that day I felt fine until in the evening I was sick. The contractions were getting stronger and close to midnight I was admitted to hospital.

Having my uterus checked by a strange male nurse felt like a violation to me. I wanted my doctor or at least a female nurse. But no. I let it wash over me. But of course it was not ideal.

The hospital felt cold and sterile, pitched with bright lights. I was shown my room, together with my husband and was told to go walk up and down the stair at the end of the hallway. Then it was just me and Sokoine and the contractions which did not let me sleep.

Stupidly I was worried about my husband who I knew was worried about me. I was on survival mode. I did not concentrate on myself and my body but let my mind wander to my husband, to the strange nurses that were checking up on me and to what would happen to my baby. 

It was torture for my body and my mind. I was not happy, relaxed and excited. I was tense and scared. How was my baby supposed to be born naturally if birth itself felt like torment to me? 

Around 9 am the next morning I was 7 cm and was taken to the delivery room. But after 5 hours of more intense labour I was still not dilated enough. The midwife called a doctor and I heard them consult. The word cesarean fell……and I remember thinking that yes, that makes sense. My mum had had two c-sections. Somehow in the back of the mind, there was the lingering conviction that this was also my fate.

I started pushing but the midwife told me to stop as I was not dilated enough. I was exhausted from lack of sleep and food and contractions. I was worried about myself and my baby. They suggested c-section and when I heard Yannik’s  heartbeat go silent during one contraction, I agreed. 

I was rolled to the operating theatre and I remember a breathing mask being put on my face…….Next thing I know I awake from a very pleasant dream. The room is blurry….I only see Sokoine sitting by the window. He comes up to me and I realize he is crying tears of relief to see me opening my eyes. I feel sorry for him and stammer that he should not be worried. I am dazed from the narcotics that had put me to sleep and I drift off again.

I had the caesarean at 3 pm and when I awaken fully it is dark outside. I check the clock and it is nearly 11 pm at night. I am thinking: where is my baby?

I had heard that once you had a Caesarean you are incapable of sitting up by yourself because your stomach muscles are severed. But I wanted my baby and I was alone in my room. So I rolled to my side and sat up carefully. I felt no pain.I rolled the drip stand that was attached to my arm through my room and down the hallway.

I found the nursery and found my baby. I looked at him and thought: yes. He is perfect, he is exactly how he was meant to be. When I was around 6 months pregnant I had a dream about my baby. I saw a vision of him. I saw he was a boy with a round head and soft golden hair. And this was exactly the boy I was looking at round now.

My milk came in without any problem two days after I had birthed my son. It was excruciatingly painful whenever he latched onto my breast. But I bit my tongue and let him nurse. To me, there was no other option.

I healed well, physically but not mentally. 

The birth had been traumatic and I was disappointed in myself. On top of this I had anemia and became depressed. My husband distanced himself from me and my son as is common in the Maasai culture. Yet it hit me badly. I missed him and I was disappointed that he did not make more of an effort to at least spent a little time with us every day. Not once did he ask me how I was doing. 

My mother-in-law moved into my hut and helped me so much with Yannik. We took turns holding him at night, she helped me wash his clothes and her and my sister-in-laws cooked for me. This is common practice in Maasai culture. A new mother has a special status and is being looked after by only the females in her family. A new mother is not supposed to do any work for 2 to 3 months postpartum. 

I had always loved Yayai, my mother-in-law, but after the birth of Yannik we grew even closer. I realized what it means to be a mother, I realised how hard it was, how it changes you. And I was awestruck by the love and support my fellow women were showing me. 

To say that I am grateful to them is an understatement. I owe them, I love and respect them forever. Not only because they were there for me, but because by becoming a mother myself, I understood how strong they were. How brave they are and how much they trust in themselves and nature. In their ability to bring life into this world. Maasai women have as many as 10 children. My mother-in-law has eight. My husband Sokoine being the first born.

I made a mistake not trusting myself and not trusting them. And for this I got a traumatic birth. But I would not be writing this today, I would not be who I am, if it had happened differently. I have a wonderful son whose soul shines bright with compassion and love. And for that I am grateful. There is always a lesson to learn and I learned so many becoming a mother. I would not have it any other way but I want to help my fellow women trust in themselves; I want them to have beautiful, empowering births without drama or trauma.

I want to help heal those who were hurt giving birth, as I know by doing so, I can also heal myself.