Michael Abrahams | Punished for periods

Recently, a patient visited my office complaining of menstrual issues. After taking her medical history and documenting her complaints, I directed her to the examination couch, instructed her to remove all articles of clothing, lie down, and cover herself with the white sheet I handed to her.

“But I am seeing my period,” she declared, with a look of horror on her face. “Yow … bad man nuh ‘fraid a blood, enuh!” I jokingly replied.

“Don’t worry,” I said, “this is part of my job description. And women are supposed to bleed. It is natural. I don’t scorn you, so why should you scorn yourself?”

Her flow was rather heavy, and after the examination, despite wearing a latex glove, a small amount of blood somehow ended up on my right hand. “Look,” I calmly said, holding up my hand before her, “Blood is on my hand and I am not freaking out. I’ll just go to the sink and wash it off. It's really no big deal.”

I then cleaned her up and directed her to an adjacent table where tissue, wipes, sanitary pads and tampons are available.

As a gynaecologist, I embrace periods. Not literally, of course. What I mean is that I see them as evidence of a woman who is in her reproductive years. Periods are not nasty. They are not gross. I tell women who feel queasy about them that the same lining of the uterus that is expelled during the period is the same lining that would nurture a pregnancy, should one occur.

Unfortunately, menstrual taboos not only still exist but, in some instances, place women's and girls’ lives at risk and have even led to death.

In January, Amba Bohara and her two young children met an untimely death from smoke inhalation in a hut. The hut was not their home. Bohara, who hailed from western Nepal, was following the ritual of chhaupadi, a form of menstrual taboo that prohibits Hindu women and girls from participating in a host of activities while menstruating, as they are considered 'impure'.

During menstruation, they are banished from their family homes, and sent to stay in small, uncomfortable, unsanitary 'menstruation huts'. The huts lack kitchens, as women who are menstruating are not allowed to cook. So, in order to eat, they have to rely on family to bring them food and other items, and they usually sleep on the floor with just a thick sheet for a mattress.

When Bohara saw her last period, it was winter, and she gathered wood and lit a fire to keep her and her two children warm. But the smoke from the fire quickly filled the small hut and overwhelmed them. They did not make it through the night.

The superstition, widely believed in Nepal, originated from a myth that Indra, 'King of the Gods', created menstruation as a curse. Women living in places where chhaupadi is followed are unable to visit temples, use other villagers’ kitchen utensils, or wash in communal water sources while they are menstruating.

People influenced by this mindset also believe that if a menstruating woman touches a tree, it will never bear fruit again. If she touches a cow, it will no longer produce milk. If she touches a man, he will become ill. I have been touched by so many menstruating women and been in contact with so much menstrual blood that if that belief were true, I would be six feet under by now. But I am not a duppy, so I doubt it is.

Nepal banned the practice in 2005 and formally criminalised it in 2017. Under the law in that country, anyone who makes a woman observe chhaupadi faces a three-month jail sentence and a £21 fine.

But many people in Nepal take this belief seriously. Indeed, a Nepali government survey from 2010 found that 19 per cent of women aged 15 to 49 in the country followed chhaupadi, and in the country’s midwestern and far western regions, the proportion rose to 50 per cent. So even though the practice has been outlawed, the centuries-old tradition persists, causing much psychological and physical trauma.

Bohara is not the first woman to have died from smoke inhalation in one of these huts, and there are accounts of banished women and girls who have been affected by severe low temperatures, monsoon flooding, snake bites, and sexual assault.

Like most societies, the culture in Nepal is patriarchal, with little consideration for women’s rights and well-being. Activists in Nepal have been working to educate its citizens and end the practice. Unfortunately, it may take generations before this happens, as the belief is so deeply embedded in the psyche of the populace.

Michael Abrahams is a gynaecologist and obstetrician, comedian and poet. Email feedback to columns@gleanerjm.com and michabe_1999@hotmail.com, or tweet @mikeyabrahams.