My Baby "Linda"

April 16^th, 2016, Tunis.

Pour la traduction en Français, cliquez ici.

When you were born, without you knowing it, fate gave you a path.

If you read this blog, the chances are you were born in the right row or you fought your way from the other one, on the opposite side, the left row, also known as the wrong row.

A few years ago, when I was younger, I always dreamt of setting foot on the African continent as a volunteer. Perhaps because of the unconscious white guilt and the ghost of colonization from my countrymen, I envisioned myself as one of those people who go to Africa to rebuild, or to support others. Being helpful and supportive have always been traits that I meant to develop, meaningfully and over time.

Yet, as time passed and life got busy, I set foot onto the Continent to teach privileged students. One could see it as a failure, as a mere attempt to pretend that this is humanly meaningful; others might firmly believe that this may be the best attempt, as you have an opportunity to mold a part of the soul of future leaders, that will take main decisions and affect hundreds.

Drawing for the orphans.....

But it isn’t enough anymore. Thanks to a good friend here, and thanks to the good will of a Christian Church group, I was able to accompany six other ladies, to visit the neonatal section of a hospital.

This is where I met Baby Linda, and she was mine, for two full hours, this morning.

Linda, you see, was born a few days ago, on the wrong side, the left side.

Born from an anonymous mother, who may have had to wrench her heart and leave Linda behind, because she wasn’t married and the community would simply not accept her. Perhaps she simply does not have the means to support her, or many other reasons could explain it.

Yet, she did name her “Linda”, or “beautiful” in Spanish, and that she did well.

As we all know, babies cry for many reasons - hunger, frustration, problems, or simply for attention. When I walked past Linda, looking at the eight babies on the left row, I heard her cry.

As soon as she heard someone and felt arms around her, she stopped. She looked dumbfounded by this voice, this warmth, she calmed down and felt the skin of my arm. Her instinct made her start to try to eat from my arm, the same way my children did a few years ago…

When you first glance at her, you would think that she should be on the right side, the side of the newborn babies whose families will come and pick up within the next few hours.

Linda is a sweet “poulet”, with a lot of dark hair and a tiny little body. When you lose yourself in the prism of her dark blue, many thoughts come back to your mind, your children’s is the first one.

Bathing Linda, caressing her hair, reassuring her when she lays on her back and has the reflect of grabbing onto you, because she is still used to the womb and feels like she is falling backwards, all those reminded me of my own boubous.

Changing her nappy, creaming her bright rash, dressing her, combing her hair, kissing her as she drinks a bottle, all these bring you to think of your own children: What if you had had to make such a decision with your children? If you lived in such cultural or financial environments, that you couldn’t cherish this part of your heart?.

The next thought flutters, this time it is about TIME. What happens when 11AM comes? Are you just walking away? Leaving Baby Linda, alone again, and those other “abandonned” babies?

How can you do that? What else can you do?

Nothing, you can’t do anything. You cannot adopt her or take her home, because it is illegal.

You cannot come in tomorrow, and bring more equipment, destined to be used for the left sided baby. These babies already feel the dichotomy between being wanted and having care, and being rejected and simply lying there, in solitude.

So there, you cannot save everybody. You had two hours and now you will go home.

Linda will hopefully grow, and be strong, hopefully enough to go to an orphanage. Perhaps, her mother will come and pick her up this week. Perhaps, Linda will work her way to the right side, with some help.

For those two hours, Linda was loved as if I had birthed her.

I take her little smile to my house and heart. Baby Linda doesn’t deserve to be where she is; I can almost hear her cry right now, from that dead-end corridor, on the left side.

A part of me hopes to see her healthy next time, another hopes she will have found a home and comfort before I come back.

When you were born, without you knowing it, fate gave you a path.

If you read this blog, the chances are you were born in the right row or you fought your way from the other one, on the opposite side, the left row, also known as the wrong row.