It was another day in the seaport squatter camp, and I was walking across a road carrying my bag of medicines. I was avoiding the dips in the road when a little boy clad only in a T-shirt came up to me. He had been waiting for me, and took me by the hand. I followed where he led me through numerous shacks. I had to crouch down to enter the little corrugated iron and plastic bag shack. Inside I saw the most heartrending sight. A young mother was lying near death, with a frail infant in her arms. Her two neighbours were helping her, and said to the little boy, 'Good. You brought the Angel with the Medicines'. The little boy pointed to his mother, and the baby. He then started explaining to me in his language of which I only had a smattering of words. The neighbours translated.
His mother had given birth to twins two weeks previously. His father was unemployed, and had gone seeking work elsewhere. His mother was worried about her husband's safety. After the birth his mother had haemmorhaged, and this tiny tot had tended to her as best he could. The one twin had died shortly after birth, and he had helped to bury his tiny brother beside the shack. A little brick had been carefully laid on the spot by himself, so that he and his family would know exactly where his little brother was. I thought my heart would break when I heard his story. Then the little boy pointed to his malnourished sister and told me that she was dying. He could see, because she looked the same way his brother had looked just before he died. The little boy told me that he knew God helped me to heal anyone I met; and asked me to save his sister's life and help his mother get better. I carried out emergency treatment, and the devoted neighbours helped to nurse her.
When I returned after three weeks ongoing visits, his mother had recovered and the little girl infant was thriving on infant formula as the mother had lost her milk due to her illness and severe malnutrition. The little boy looked at me with his eyes shining for a long time; he touched my hand gently then with both of his, a reverent touch; then he turned away and walked back into the shack. There are many ways of saying 'thank you'; the glowing look in the little boy's eyes told me all that was in his heart. The neighbours came over to reassure me they were taking care of the young mother and her two children; they had also sent a messenger to look for the husband, and were confident they would make contact with him.
As I turned to leave the shack, I saw what the little boy had been doing - a poignant handful of wildflowers carefully picked from the veld near the squatter camp in a well washed jam jar sat on the little twin's grave. As I drove back home, the African sun was setting. I wept at the heartbreak that so many must go through. Since that time, a hospital is now thriving in the place where a fellow charity worker and myself started a clinic under a tree from the red Charity minivan. From small seeds, larger things may grow when blessed by the Almighty. I remember my fellow charity worker and her dedicated love and service of the poor, and will be sending her a copy of this article to remind her of days gone by. In the spirit of Lumiere, would you consider helping someone in your area or another area where there is a need. Many mothers struggle to get basic ante-natal care, necessities for their babies and themselves, fresh water, food for their family. If you know of such a mother, or a father unable to give the necessities to his family due to unemployment, would you consider giving them a helping hand? Each life is so precious - it is indeed a tragic thing for a life to be lost almost before it has even begun. I often think of that little boy - now he would be a grown man. He taught me the lesson that we do not always have to say everything with words...
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