Are rogue medical students assisting comrades to abort?

It all begins with a night out and because alcohol and poor judgment are first cousins in the grandiose family tree of debauchery, what follows next is that the girl finds her drunken self between a rock and a hard place, writes BILL ODUNGA

A month after a reckless night of fun, her periods go missing and the young man responsible gets a chilling ‘baby, we need to talk’ text message.

This is when reality and deep regret check in. That is the time the two lovebirds realise they are barely 20 years old, unemployed and with a baby on the way. What will they tell their parents? Never mind that college students treat pregnancy tests like STDs, such that when the result is positive, then it is a negative — bad. With all this factors at play, only one solution remains — abortion.

So far, one rural university has the dubious honour of being the national leader in rampant cases of abortion. Instances of multiple abortions by the same students are no longer worthy of the spotlight.

Winnie, a student in the said institution, procured her first abortion in her first year of studies. She was fearful of her father who is an ex-military tough. Her boyfriend jilted her, and she was left with no choice. Earlier this year, she found out that she was heavy with a child, and ‘flushed’ it, again.

Pills

“If you are a girl in this university and you haven’t procured an abortion, then you deserve a pat on the back,” says Patience, a student of Law. More frightening, Patience says Medicine students help their desperate friends who get unwanted pregnancies to get rid of the baggage.

“These students hook you up with a nurse who then takes you to see a certain doctor who sorts you out,” she says, adding that in some cases, the students are known to pinch abortion pills from the hospital and sell them for Sh2,000, which is pocket-friendly compared to the doctor who asks for Sh5,000. The price, she says, is not standard, though. It depends on the pills and the age of the foetus.

These (cheap) services come as a relief to the many students in the university. All you need to do is know someone in the faculty of Medicine and your troubles are sorted. Furthermore, when dealing with a student, one can be availed with flexible modes of payments, such as cash or installments that are paid periodically over time.

The situation becomes more chilling given whispers that chamas are founded specifically for abortion emergencies. These chamas provide a financial cushion to their members. They loan out money to those who get pregnant, who then pay back with little interest.

Private universities are renowned for their piety and disciplined students; but when it comes to cases of unwanted pregnancies, they aren’t left behind. Kemunto, a fresh graduate from a prestigious university in Nairobi, explains how a few mistakes ago, after realising that her runaway boyfriend had gotten her pregnant during her second year, she immediately made up her mind to terminate the pregnancy. A friend introduced her to a woman at a respected medical facility, who in turn, forwarded her to a doctor who operates a ramshackle health centre in the heart of Kiambu. She parted with a whooping Sh8,000, but the trauma haunts her to date.

At another top university in Nairobi, students reported after a brief break early this year to find a foetus decomposing in one of the female loos. The gore, but sad, image of a baby whose life had been cut short by its mother, suddenly found its way into the social media tabloids and as expected, caused angry ripples throughout the campus.  Most of the people who were pissed off by the image being circulated online were the women, and after three days or so, the individual who posted it online was finally cajoled to pull it down.

Joy, a Third Year student at the institution says there is a dealer who owns a chemist in town who has mastered the art of abortion. Just like the rural varsity doctor, he summons girls who are tired and heavy laden, and relieves them using the abortion pill, Misoprostol.

Misoprostol has become a darling for girls at the university. When consulted, Dr Kizito Lubano, an obstetrician gynaecologist said Misoprostol (otherwise known as Cytotec, Arthrotec or Oxaprost) was originally meant for curing, among others, peptic ulcers. And when taken in high doses, it induces labour by contracting the uterus and thus, listed as one of its side effect to expectant women, who are warned not to use it. However, he says university students now take advantage of its side effect and use its overdose to abort. This is the same pill used in the rural university mentioned earlier.

Guilt

Just like politics and religion, the abortion trend in campuses today is a touchy conversation; made so by the subjective nature of people’s opinion. The Women Students Welfare Association (Woswa) chairlady, Mickey Ochieng’, for instance, is one of the many mothers in campus today, who chose not to terminate her pregnancy. She opines that it is a private decision between the woman and her boyfriend. In her opinion, men who take off immediately one misses her period motivate abortion among female students. “I have a supportive man who stood by me all the way,” she says, “and not all girls who fall pregnant in campus get so lucky. And then there is the issue of expenses…” she says.

A majority of students in campus rely on government subsidy (Helb), which is hardly adequate and the mathematics of sharing that with a kid does not add up.

Linda Sohelo, the Students Organisation of Nairobi University (Sonu) Gender Affairs secretary, says cases of abortion are reported to her desk often. However, the number of reported cases does not reflect the true situation on the ground because most girls who procure abortion are too ashamed. Guilt wears them down to a point of self-denial. The ones that come out only do so when a procedure goes awry, or when the tale has a complicated twist like rape.

“There was a case in which I was approached by a student who had been raped by her father and got pregnant as a result. We had to convince her, with the help of Rachael Shebesh (Nairobi Women’s Rep) to keep the child and instead press charges against her father,” says Sohelo.

Sohelo runs an awareness campaign against abortion at University of Nairobi, but the fruits of her labour are dismal. She says there is need for an alternative to abortion such as the society loosening up on its view against young mothers, or the legalislation of abortion altogether so as to reduce the repercussions of backstreet procedures and abortions pills.

Dr Lubano further asserts that abortion might be cheap today, but its consequences are expensive. The side effects of ingesting Misoprostol are, sometimes, not what the girls bargained for. First of all, the pill does not offer a 100 per cent guarantee of losing the baby. In some cases, it backfires and after nine months, the couple is ‘cursed’ with a bundle of unwelcome joy.

Death

But not all of them get so lucky. “For others,” Dr Lubano warns, “it leads to immeasurable pain, incessant diarrhoea, development of fibroids, infertility or uncontrollable haemorrhage resulting to severe anaemia, or in the worst-case scenario, death.” For this last reason, where symptoms such as excessive bleeding and excruciating pain persist, a patient is advised to report in time to the nearest hospital and say that they have miscarried, he advises. But that’s just with the medical repercussions. If nabbed by authorities, a person convicted for participating in abortion faces up to life imprisonment.

Dr Lubano aptly wrapped it up by posing the question: “If you do not want a baby at a tender age, then why not use protection? Condoms cost Sh50 at most. The cost of pregnancy at university is prohibitive — whether you opt to keep it or not. Choosing to ignore contraceptives is, therefore, clearly bad math.”