Without love, there is no life.
Mama Karine came to the centre with her 3 month old nephew. A happy, healthy little chap. Sadly they'd buried his mother the previous day.
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| Francis Hannaway |
Karine said that she'd tried to breastfeed the baby herself, but it hadn't worked. We sat Aunty Karine down with a baby's bottle and some milk. We sweetened the milk a little to make it more like mother's milk. They lived a good distance from us and she had her own children to look after. We gave her some money and a tin of milk, explaining how to make the milk, to always be ready to feed on demand, and to feed throughout the day, even eight or nine times. We explained how to make milk from soya, or peanuts, and to return to us if she had any problems. At four months, we could start adding a little of our cornflour, peanut and soyamilk porridge.
Karine spoke very confidently that she understood and she'd do everything for her sister's baby.
A week later, one of the sisters from the convent came along on her motorbike. Let's call her Sr. Lisa. She asked me if I could help an orphan. I explained that it wasn't our policy to help orphans; we would only give advice. I agreed to give her a tin of milk-powder, and instructions on how to make soyamilk. Sr. Lisa was very knowledgeable and said she'd manage the situation. The child's carer then arrived and it was none other than Aunty Karine. Although she'd come along without him, it was the baby we were already helping. I asked if she was following our instructions, and she confidently replied that she was. Sr. Lisa and I were both satisfied that they were looking after the beautiful baby boy properly. Sr Lisa told me that she'd decided on a name for the baby, she called him Joseph.
The sun went down and the crickets started chirping, and Aunty Karine set off for home. The palm trees in the little path next to our house swayed, as a warm breeze chased away the day's heat. One or two frogs croaked hesitantly. There was a sense of calm. Sr. Lisa started up her bike and off she went. I went back inside knowing that everything was alright.
Two days later, Sr. Lisa returned with Karine on her motorbike. Karine was holding a small bundle. She unwrapped it to reveal baby Joseph's face: pale, lethargic, eyes sunken into his face like a skull! I literally gasped.
"What happened?" I asked, incredulously. "Did you feed him at least eight times a day?" She said that she had, but looked embarrassed.
An adult can go for several days without sustenance - but a baby needs a constant flow of the fluids and nutrients contained in his milk. I shook my head; this didn't look good at all!
It was already evening. We hurried across to the Catholic hospital, next door. Dr. Gibril set up an infusion to replace lost fluids. He didn't think it was too serious. My own thoughts were that they often try to rush things. This can lead to shock. The doctor's argument is that they needed to act before it was too late.
I asked Karine if she'd brought the two baby's bottles we'd given her. She hadn't.
Sr. Lisa set off to their house to collect them. I went back to my house to wait. Judith's nephew, Justin, a young man whom we'd been nursing, sat in our yard. I told him to let me know when the bottles arrived. In the meantime, could he boil some water on the fire and fill a thermos flask - which he did.
Darkness fell, once again. I waited impatiently, turning over in my mind what could have happened. If the child doesn't finish the first bottle, you wait half an hour and try again. Surely, she must know that. She has five children of her own, she must know what she's doing. Then again, they were most likely breastfed. It's her first time with a baby's bottle.
An hour went by, a strong breeze blew, carrying a little light rain, which soon passed. Karine's house is 10 km and the dirt paths are difficult.
After another hour, I stepped outside. No sign of Sr. Lisa. I phoned her. Where are the bottles?
She told me she'd sent them ages ago and that someone at our house had already received them.
I walked across to Justin. He smiled and said he didn't want to bother me so he'd taken them over to the hospital. I couldn't believe it. There's no logic here with anyone. I said, "Are you crazy? What will they do with empty bottles?"
I marched back to the hospital. Fortunately, the transfusion hadn't quite finished, but I still felt that he needed his milk.
I quickly took the bottles back to prepare the milk. I gave the made up bottles to Karine and her husband, who'd just arrived, to feed baby Joseph throughout the night.
It was as much as I could do. It was already 11pm. I returned home and went to sleep.
The next morning I hoped to have good news. We often see remakable change after a fluid infusion, but that wasn't to be the case.
I turned on my phone and found a voice message from Sr. Lisa. The little baby boy had died, at 2am, and they'd already gone with his body.
I felt numb.
I questioned myself about what I couuld have done differently. Certainly, we could have taken the baby fully into our charge. Unfortunately, we don't have the capacity to receive orphans. Sadly, Basankusu is overwhelmed with them, and we just wouldn't cope with the expense. We'd be inundated - and a good number would be permanently abandoned to us.
Sr. Lisa sent me photos of a tiny coffin being made. I'm very sceptical of funerals here. No help when someone's sick, but a beautiful coffin and a huge meal when they die. Perhaps I was a little hasty this time because it was the convent workers who made the coffin. They made a good job of it. But I didn't attend the funeral.
While she was at the funeral, Sr Lisa asked about the circumstances for Joseph's demise. It seems that Karine and her husband went each day to their vegetable garden in the forest. They left the baby with their other children, with instructions on how to feed them. From what we can gather, it didn't happen. What is certain is that there was no love towards baby Joseph. Without love negligence happens. Without love, life cannot be.
Rest in Peace.
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