More than 70 000 illegal abortions are carried out in Zimbabwe every year, with Zimbabwean women running a 200 times greater risk of dying of abortion complications than their counterparts in South Africa, where the procedure is legal.
"Today you're going to cry." The doctor, prodding Grace roughly with his nicotine-stained fingers, is matter-of-fact, there's no malice in his voice. And, afterwards, when she begs him not to let her see the foetus, he's considerate enough to cover it with a paper towel as it lies in a bloody puddle at the end of the examination table, before helping her to her feet. When he returns to the leather armchair in his consulting room, she notices that he doesn't bother to wash his hands before lighting a cigarette, blowing smoke in her direction as she leans over the desk to hand him his money.
"Be careful not to tell anyone about this," he says as she turns to leave, his eyes slits through the blue blur of cigarette smoke, "the jails are full of women like you."
He was right. That day she did cry. And for many days afterwards. There was clotting and cramps that had her balled up in pain in a corner of the sofa for the next two days, but, mostly, she cried because of the agony of an infection which festered where the doctor's unsterilised equipment had torn at her private parts.
The series of events that led to Grace finding herself in the deserted surgery that late Saturday afternoon once all the regular patients had gone home is irrelevant. She could have been a teenager who fell pregnant the first time she had sex with her boyfriend. But, as it turned out, she was a mature single mother unable to face the birth of a third child she had no means of supporting. Whatever her circumstances, Grace, like many other Zimbabwean women, found herself risking her life and her freedom to terminate a pregnancy she believed impossible to sustain.
