Saving Mandy

When you have influence, it is your duty to stand up for others and help others up too

We had so much in common. 

We were both born and grew up in the same sleepy hometown of Bulawayo, almost same neighborhood. We attended the same high school, some years apart, but both proud and loud Convent girls. At some point, we must have taken the same Parklands surburb bus from City Hall to home. Our siblings almost same age-groups; our families and friends intertwined all the way back to roots in Dombodema rural home. We both went on to study medicine, she did dentistry, I did MBChB. But eventually we both did a masters in Public Health in the same programme at the University of Zimbabwe. We both got married and set up home in Harare. Bulawayo girls stick together when they arrive in the big bad city. When I had Anashe, she had Siyabonga. We were both pregnant in 2018. Being senior medical professionals we both had access to the “best” medical care. We both had Cesarian Sections and received beautiful babies. And after delivery, things went pear-shaped for the both of us. Surgical complications. Further surgery. Long hospital stays. I went into high-dependency unit, she went to intensive care unit. Then our paths separated. I survived. Mandy didn’t.

The sorrow and disbelief of losing our dear Dr Mandy Sibanda-Dlamini has shaken our community to the core. She was as she put it herself, a nice human being. Operating at an extremely high level of commitment, passion and love. She mothered her kids like she was a full-time stay at home mom even though she had several jobs, private practice and church ministry to name a few. She was one of those people. You know. Just amazing. Kind, positive, sweet, fun. Full of life. Humble. Just the kind of woman I wanted to be. She most definitely probably prayed more than me. Served the church and people more than me. SO why was she taken and not me? The pastor at her service said she had run her race. Maybe this was God’s way of reminding me to stop dilly dallying at the starting blocks and start running. 

I owe it to Mandy. I owe it to Venencia. I owe it to the daughter of the elderly lady who sat behind me in church the other day holding a baby. I owe it to all the mums who died doing the one thing that shouldn’t kill them – bringing life into the world. No mother should have to die doing the thing their bodies were made to do. I wrote a blog once about this. It was talking about the disadvantages of women in our community, less privileged, less educated and already set up for poor outcomes after delivery. The women who are also getting affected are probably the most educated in our society, fortunate to have access to networks in the medical fraternity. But still dying.

It hurts. It really hurts. But, after our sorrow will come outrage. How could we let this happen? Again and again and again? Mandy’s case, like all maternal deaths will be audited and corrective measures put in place. The difference this time is this is not an anonymous case. This is Mandy. We knew her, we ate with her, we laughed with her, we worked with her.  How many more cases must we audit before we are moved to wake up? We need to do more, we need to do more as a country, we need to do more as the health ministry, we need to do more as healthcare workers, we need to do more as a community, I need to do more as Sithabiso. This has to end. We have to save our mothers. 

Let us do justice to Mandy’s memory. That way we save her. Living life in service to people. Honouring God. Loving fiercely. Celebrating life and every milestone. Being strong and leading by example. Using our talents as a gift to others. Being authentically you. Being fearless and focused. So that her death may not be in vain, but her life a beacon that we could all aspire to.

Saving Mandy. 

Dr Mandy Sibanda-Dlamini