I am sitting in the dirt in stunned silence trying to figure out how I ended up in this situation. I look into Thabsile’s tear-filled eyes and finally stammer out a response, “I am so sorry. I can’t take your son. I don’t have a job or a home or any way to take care of a child. I’m so sorry, but I just can’t…” I cannot fathom the despair a mother must feel in order to offer her child to a complete stranger, but these are the desperate cries of many Swazi mothers.
On Sunday afternoon after church, Siyabo was sitting on my lap as we played little games and laughed together. Then a woman comes and tells him to go and get some food (pap, beans, & small pieces of goat entrails). As Siyabo jumps off my lap and runs away, this woman looks at me with a huge smile on her face and says, “He is my son.” I could see the resemblance immediately. She has the same joyful smile and bright eyes as Siyabo. You can see her love for and pride in him. I smiled back and told her, “I just love him! Your son is so precious!”
This simple confession gave Thabsile, Siyabo’s mom, the courage to share openly. She looks at
me with a fierce determination and says, “Please take him. Take him home with you…” I sat in stunned silence unsure of what to say. She continues, “His father is dead. I am sick; I have HIV. I am working, but it’s just not enough. I have nothing to give him. Please, please take him with you.” My heart broke. I asked with bated breath if her children were also sick. She told me that she doesn’t know; they haven’t been tested. She fears that she will die and her children will be left with no one to care for them.
