My heart was pounding as I left Pelile’s house holding the tiny baby in my hands. Five weeks old and hasn’t eaten in hours, if not days. I carried him in my arms to the Carepoint, his soft breathing the only sign of life. What am I doing? How do I expect to take this child and care for it? What kind of clue do I have?
I had already cleared it with my team leader in the morning after hearing about the state of the family-mother HIV positive, no father around, four other siblings, no money, no food-but I didn’t know what my team would think. I have never held a being so small in my life-his head is the size of my palm. He cried periodically, I’m sure because of hunger. I tried to be patient as we waited for our transport to pick us up, but it was so hard, knowing that I could do nothing about the baby’s hunger until we got to a store.
Twelve hours later and my mind is still spinning. He is amazing! He has still only drank two-three ounces of formula, but that’s far more than his mother has been able to offer since his birth. I will bring him back to see her in two days, but will probably continue to keep him after that. I have no idea what I’m doing, but I just knew I couldn’t leave him there. Pelile is too gaunt to produce milk, and her other children are malnourished and sick as well. The women at the Carepoint don’t believe Pelile will make it much longer. Due to malnutrition, the kids suffer from “kwashiorkor” which causes their stomachs to swell, noses to run with a white mucus, and hair to turn golden.
My heart breaks for the family. The eldest–Mbeki is eleven and barely knows his numbers (1-20), colors, and alphabet. The second eldest-Siphiwe is seven and is one of my ultimate favorites from the Carepoint. She sings louder than any child I’ve ever heard, but it is an absolute riot to me. Siphiwe is also one of only five that pay attention and participate when I’m teaching. The other two girls-Hlonphile and Zamile are three and five and such little angels. Ever since hearing their story my mind has been flooded with questions of what will happen when their mother dies. There is no local orphanage or shelter for them. The home they live in is already inadequate-one room made of thatched mud and sticks…about the size of medium sized bathroom in the states.
If I could, I’d take the whole lot of them back with me. If I had unlimited money I’d bring them all their meals, and medicine, and clothes (so they don’t have to wear the same ones every day), and build a decent home for them… I don’t though. And I don’t see God calling me to that. All I know is that I saw a child with no hope of survival if he stayed in that situation. What will we do when it’s time to leave Swaziland, though? How will I leave him? How will I leave the other four children and their mother? How can this be all that I can do?
So here are the facts:
· Pelile is a thirty-eight year-old single mother with HIV/AIDs
· She has no money for her food or medicine or to support her five children
· Mcolisi was 2kg (4.4lbs) at birth and at five weeks is only 2.1kg (4.6lbs)
· The children are already sick or afflicted with “kwashiorkor” and will not survive without food
· Mbeki, Siphiwe, Hlonphile, Zamile, and Mcolisi are some of the most vibrant, loving children I have ever met…and deserve a chance
I don’t know how to help any further
**Written one week ago**
