Kwikla’s Birthing

Kwikla woke from a mid-afternoon doze and rolled and stretched lazily. In the last third of her pregnancy, she had become more easily fatigued, and indulged herself daily in what was known by her people as a “half-head” nap. She looked up and admired the rays of sunshine that filtered through the dense canopy of her tropical home. As she moved, she perceived anew the heavier contours of her now gravid shape, which formerly had been so sleek. She considered wryly the thickening of her middle, then felt her heart leap with excitement as she felt the fetus within roll and squirm. It would be soon.

Kwikla’s family and kin have been nomads of the tropics since the beginning of time. They call themselves the “Taktak-Zzz ,” which means “children of our planet”, although the anthropologists and scientists who find them of interest use another name. Kwikla’s people remain a puzzle to those of the “modern” world who clandestinely study them from a distance. Although members are assessed as being highly intelligent, this culture has no written language, and the Taktak-Zzz build no cities. Kwikla’s people have a complex mathematics, transmitted as musical vocalizations, which they pass from parent to child. Like many “primitive” cultures, Kwikla’s existence and those of her kin are threatened by pollution, the invasion of well-meaning technologies, and the encroachment of industry into the Taktak-Zzz’s pristine environment.

Kwikla’s language sounds odd to our ears, with many sibilant sounds, punctuated by percussives and clicks. Technically hunters, the Taktak-Zzz are generally peace-loving. Making no organized, formal war on their own kind, they live also in relative accord with the other varied species that populate their world. Of course, their world is not perfect. As Kwikla’s mother warned her once, there are some bad boys everywhere, and there have been some shameful examples of gang behavior, both against clan members, and neighbors. The tribe’s elders generally eschew and disapprove of these behaviors but understand that some hostilities are inevitable.

Extended family groups travel together. The adolescent and mature males, though not strictly segregated from the females of the family, tended to group together in a band called the “Klee.” Adult and adolescent females and infants are virtually inseparable. The young form cliques in order to play, flirt, and practice adult behaviors. In sum, the community, with a few notable exceptions, is a close knit and generally harmonious group that eats together, plays together, has a sense of themselves as a clan.

As is rare in the 21st century, the Tak-tak-Zzz are relatively isolated from civilized man and are not influenced by TV, the Internet. Kwikla had seen American men once. She and her mother had made a rare sojourn to a harbor far away, and had seen their boats, their bizarre (to her) skin coverings, heard their incomprehensible speech. She remembered the men calling to her with smiles and whistles. They had seemed kind, and like the innocent child she was, she approached them. She remembered her mother‘s rare anger and disapproval as she interceded and herded Kwikla quickly away.

Kwikla, still graceful despite her pregnancy’s bulk, meandered to a grotto where small fish nibbled aquatic plants. She deftly caught one and bolted its sweet raw meat hungrily. She considered the Klee, who were involved in good-natured wrestling and desultory fishing nearby. Her glance lingered over Sheeop, a muscular youth with whom she had been intimate several times. She was not certain he was the infant’s father, but it was as likely as not. He glanced over and made a flirtatious flourish, although he did not leave his companions. Kwikla looked away shyly but was inwardly pleased. She was apparently still attractive.

“Eat lightly, Kwikla,” advised Klaakoo, an older, experienced midwife who had appeared at her side. The older female was Kiwkla’s “auntie”.

Klakoo had assisted at Kwikla’s own birth, and even that of Kwikla’s mother. Her years showed on her scarred and mottled face, but her expression was kindly and wise. Although tradition dictated that most of the women must remain physically distant from the birth of a new troupe member, Klaakoo had a special role. She had cared for the gravid mother throughout the period of her gestation, giving Kwikla dietary advice and assuaging her fears. Klakoo’s knowledge was welcome in the event of emergency and essential in providing intervention if the birth should go awry.

In the traditional gesture of the tribal midwife, she gazed intently at Kwikla’s naked abdomen, whistled, and, listened. She glanced up at Kwikla, her eyes reflecting satisfaction and competence.

“All is well. I think it will be today.”

This news, shared with Kwikla’s playfellows and her mother, caused a flurry of pleased anticipation. Kwikla’s mother especially looked forward to this birth. Although her current playmate (not Kwikla’s father) had been killed in a rare shark attack as he fished in the shallower waters near the coastline a few weeks ago, Kwikla’s mother’s ebullient nature had not been muted.

The Tak-tak-Zzz don’t mourn in the way that many cultures do. They see each death as a natural process and adjust apparently easily. However, Kwikla’s mother seemed more interested in the advent of a new tribe member than was usual. As Kwikla’s pregnancy advanced, Kwikla’s mother had become more involved with her now fully-grown daughter. Today, hearing the good news from the midwife, the grandmother-to-be excitedly rocketed to and fro from one end of the grotto to the other, chattering to her friends and singing.

As the afternoon progressed, Kwikla realized that the midwife was correct. Fluid leaked, and contractions began. Kwikla’s mother, the other females, the Klee, and Klakoo all were aware of the onset of labor. Kwikla found it impossible to stay still. She was comforted by Klakoo as the old auntie clucked, clicked, and cooed in sympathy and support. The rest of the family, aware and anxious, formed a relatively distant, but still protective circle around the central event.

Every so often Klakoo nudged Kwikla kindly or repeated the gesture of inspecting and whistling to her gravid belly. Each time she reported on the fetus’ status and progress of the labor. Finally, the infant was ready. Kwikla gave one final push, and expelled her firstborn, a male, in a gush of amniotic fluid and blood. For a single instant, he lay limp and unmoving in the now pink water and then arched vigorously. A sharp move on Kwikla’s part severed the cord. Instinct took over, and Kwikla knew just what to do.

Accompanied by the watchful Klakoo, the new mother gently pushed and guided her firstborn. He wriggled and flexed his body actively. Kwikla touched him gently with her gray bottlenose as they swam in concert to the surface, through the canopy of their world to the air.

As the pair breached the surface, Kwikla’s son blinked and took his first gulping breath. He snorted vigorously through his blowhole, and fixed Kwikla with intelligent, limpid eyes. Soon, he nursed. The dolphins rejoiced in their new family member. Their sleek and leaping shapes showed as silhouettes against the now purpling sky. Keening joyous music which spanned scales imperceptible and inaudible to human ears, the entire group swam away.

Paula Lyons, MD

3/24/03