Baby Cemetery at the City Dump

Baby cemetery at the Mamelodi City Dump

by Bonnie Mentel

Patience Maselela and Ladia Ngobemi work at the Mamelodi City Dump, situated about 30 km west of Pretoria, and have seen the bodies of babies that have been discarded in the garbage. According to both women, this has been a problem for as long as they’ve worked there. 

“We’ve always seen this. We need help on prevention,” said Ladia, a secretary who has worked at the dump for nine years. “When the babies get here, they are always dead.”

City dump workers typically discover two or more every week, which adds up to over 100 newborn babies every year. This number does not account for babies that might also be in the plastic garbage bags, as the workers do not open these.  

“The babies that are found are usually in buckets, old tires or containers,” said Patience, an advisor who has been employed by the dump for 20 years 

Unfortunately, in every case in the past five years, the babies found have been deceased. However, about five years ago a worker found a baby just outside the city dump. The newborn girl was wrapped in a plastic bag and was still alive. Workers immediately called an ambulance. Against all odds, the girl survived.

The garbage comes from the surrounding dumping areas in Pretoria, but the babies are usually brought in from garbage trucks servicing Mamelodi, the largest township of Pretoria with an estimated one million residents.

Abortions are legal in South Africa, and when asked if the babies could possibly be late-term abortions, Ladia said, “It’s not the abortion people. The women do this on their own and put the baby in there. When you put it in there with no oxygen, obviously it can’t survive.”

She continued, “We always phone the police, and they come with the government mortuary. They take information and take the baby.”

ABBA House, a baby shelter in Pretoria, plans to donate a “baby safe” that will be placed somewhere in Mamelodi East for women to drop off their babies. Workers from AIDS Hope, a ministry of OM in Mamelodi, plan to collaborate with these efforts by starting an awareness campaign to teach high school students about alternatives to abortion or abandonment.

“We have the unique opportunity to talk about making good life choices to pupils in grade seven at four local schools,” said AIDS Hope worker Anne Linke, who mentioned that a large percentage of the students are involved in sexual relationships at age 12 or 13.

“For a whole school year we teach them about the choices and challenges they will face when they grow up, especially when it comes to having sex. So far our main focus has been on HIV prevention, but we realise that our focus must be wider. We have to talk about what to do if an unwanted pregnancy occurs, and we have to offer alternatives to aborting or abandoning a baby.”

Please pray for the women and babies of Mamelodi. For more information about getting involved with the ministry of AIDS Hope in Mamelodi, please contact OM South Africa at: info.africa@om.org.

 

Going to the City Dump

I left my wedding ring and credit cards at home when I went to the dump and sent Brian a text about where I had left the car just in case I never came back. When Anne, an OM employee from Germany, and I got to AIDS Hope, Mpho was there waiting for us. Mpho is a young South African guy who lives in the township of Mamelodi. He lives at a local church and is a former drug addict. This guy prayed for our protection before we left; it was really sweet.

 

Anne was ready to walk to the city dump, but I was more hesitant. I did not want to walk in the township. Two white women would really stand out. Plus, we didn't know how far it would be to the dump. Mpho suggested that we drive and I'm so glad we did! We would have been walking for hours, in the hot African sun without any water or protection of a vehicle. And, I was wearing jeans!!

 

First we had to make a stop inside the township to find the woman's number that we were meeting at the dump. Mpho knew where she lived, so he ran to get her phone number while Anne and I sat in the car waiting. At this time I started to get really nervous. I wanted Mpho to hurry back. People kept walking so close to our car that they could touch it. Anne was wearing a skirt, big earrings, and had her hair in a headband. She was wearing sandals before I talked her into changing shoes. We definitely stood out and everyone kept looking at us.

 

Anne said that she was used to walking through Mamelodi and that she had never had any problems with safety. She said she felt more connected to the people when she walked. Mpho came right back with the phone number and we headed on to the dump. The roads inside the township were very rough. I felt like we were on a safari because the dirt roads were filled with ruts, grooves, water, and rocks. We were in the OM vehicle, which is a manual, smaller than my Corolla. It was also an old car that kept stalling out. We hit one fence post which probably left a good scrape, but we didn't get out to look.

 

We drove quite a ways before we got to the dump. We came to a road that we thought would take us there. Three large men stood at the entrance and we drove past them quickly. They did not look friendly. In fact, they started following the car as we drove. Once again, I was so glad we weren't on foot. This is when I sent a text to a few people to ask them to pray for us. When we got to the entrance, Mpho ran out  (he was always running!) and spoke with the security guards behind the locked gate. He soon discovered that we were not at the dump. We were lost. People were walking down the road with wheelbarrows and carrying loads of stuff in their arms.

 

We stopped and asked a guy walking along the road for directions to the gate. He didn't know. I bet he didn't even know there was a dump there; he looked mentally ill. Mpho once again got out of the car and ran across a corn field. I didn't know why he was leaving, but then we saw three other men in the middle of the corn field. Once he got directions from them, he was back and we were off. Thankfully, we didn't run into those three mean looking men again.

 

We pulled up to the dump without any problem. The roads were smooth dirt from all the trash trucks that traveled through there each day. The security guard came to our car and then allowed us through. Although there were people standing and sitting outside the gate, it didn't feel scary. When we got inside we parked the car and Mpho called our contact. She said she would be unable to meet us, but told us to go find the site supervisor. We got out of the car and walked to the building where a lot of people were hanging out. It turns out that they were having a meeting. The supervisor came out to greet us and then we walked right in. He had us stand in front of a group of about 30 people and made us introduce ourselves and start the interview. I asked if we could just take a few people outside to talk to them that way. We ended up getting three volunteers. Mpho was able to translate when we needed it, but one woman had really good English.

 

They told us the story of the babies that are found at the dump. I'll publish that here soon. Before we left, Mpho prayed with the entire group in his own language. On the way home, the three of us talked about what we had learned. One thing that surprised me is that the women kept asking what happened when they took the babies away. We didn't understand why they were asking, but Mpho explained that they wanted money for finding the babies. They wanted us to help with that. Of course we're not interested in helping in that way at all. But, we're starting to develop a plan about what to do.

The Day that Changed Our Lives

She had pale skin, green eyes and freckles. She looked different from me and our other siblings. Shaylin took after my dad’s side of the family, while the other four of us looked more like my mom, who is half-Mexican and has dark hair and eyes. My little sister was a sweet 21-year-old student who died on her first snowmobile ride, minutes after she’d taken off down the trail in El Dorado County, California.

 When I heard the phone ring at 2:00 a.m., I knew in my heart that someone had died. My dad told us to come over and to plan on spending the night at their house. He didn’t want to tell us over the phone what had happened. As soon as my husband and I left our apartment, we began to pray.

“Lord, give us the strength and peace for whatever we’re about to find out. Help us be anchors for my family,” I prayed aloud as we walked to the car. 

My brother answered the door when we got to the house. He was a senior in high school and living at the house with my parents and my other sister, a freshman in high school. I saw my mom in her robe, which confused me. In the back of my mind, I thought we might have lost my mom, because heart problems run in her family.

 I was shocked when I had found out that it was my middle sister who had died. My thought process wasn’t making sense at the time; I imagined that Shaylin was safe, because she was living in California with another sister. She was a perfectly healthy size 2, an athletic girl who had been a college soccer player during her freshman year. My dad told us the horrible and shocking story. 

“She was on a snowmobile. It left the trail and plunged off a cliff, hitting a tree. She suffocated in the snow,” he said. By the time her boyfriend and guides found her that evening, she had been buried in the snow and was unconscious. Her boyfriend attempted CPR, but administered it wrong, pumping air into her stomach and not her lungs.

 At this point in my life I didn’t even know what a snowmobile was and my brain couldn’t acknowledge the fact that she was really gone. I held out hope that she was only missing and that the authorities had identified the wrong person. In fact, until my parents flew to California and visited the morgue, I was living in denial, hoping against hope that everyone was wrong.

 I had almost called my sister earlier that afternoon to see if she wanted to chip in for my parents’ 30th anniversary present, which was to take place in four days. As the oldest child, I always felt that it was my responsibility to collect funds and buy the present. For some reason, I didn’t call, and, of course, later, wish I had. I longed for just one more conversation with my sister.

 She hadn’t been expected home that last Christmas. She had bought a last-minute ticket home for Christmas break, surprising my parents. My mom was thrilled! We had no way of knowing that ten days after Christmas was Shaylin’s last day on Earth.

 The last time I saw Shaylin was right before she was leaving for her flight back to San Jose, California.

“Please don’t leave. I love you,” I said as I gave her a hug and a big sloppy kiss on the cheek. Shaylin was my little buddy. We shared clothes. She walked like me and her eyes drooped like mine when she’d take a big bite of something to eat.

 She replied that she needed to go back. We talked a little more, although I will never forget the last words I heard her say before saying goodbye, “I love the snow.”

 Earlier that day, I had experienced a feeling of dread while standing behind her chair as she checked her email. I had a fear that her plane might crash. Well, her plane made it safely to California and I didn’t think about contacting her until a couple of days later when I wanted to buy my parents’ anniversary gift.

Shaylin lived her life as a Christian and is living with Jesus right now. She left behind many signs of her faith and trust in Jesus. On her cell phone, she had programmed her display to read, “I will follow.” We’re sure that if she had had more room, it would have ended with, “Him.” She had recently begun a Bible study and had made many incredible entries. On October 20, 2002 she had written, “No one lives forever. It’s time to shape up until we are in His Kingdom.” She didn’t know that in less than three months, on January 4, 2003, she would be in His Kingdom.

The Bible tells us that God is preparing a place for us with Him. I’ve never doubted that and the following verses have helped me in my time of grief:

 “So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen. For what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal. Now we know that if the early tent we live in is destroyed, we have a building from God, an eternal house in heaven, not built by human hands.” 2 Corinthians 4:18, 5:1.

 As my family grieved, we each went through different stages at different times. We experienced anger, shock, and sadness, but we never lost our faith. At this point, my faith became much stronger. I have learned to think of Earth as my temporary home and I have been motivated to find out how to be used by God while I’m here. I want my life to be meaningful.

 I’ve also had several dreams throughout the years of my little sister. She’s always happy and I’ve heard her laughing as she runs, twirls, and enjoys her new life. That has been a comfort to me, especially when I get to hug her and have conversations with her in my dreams.

 My dad’s grief led him to take legislative action. He flew to California and contacted legislators asking for safety regulations in the snowmobile industry. Assemblyman Leland Yee drafted AB 1818, to address snowmobile safety issues. The bill was quickly passed and then sent to the State Senate where it was vetoed by then-governor, Arnold Schwarzenegger, due to the safety requirements being “too vague” for effective enforcement.

 If the bill had passed, it would have required snowmobile rental companies to provide a safety training course, a guide who has completed a CPR class, and basic safety equipment such as: a lightweight shovel, flashlight, flashlight charger, and helmet.

 Although, my sister’s life was snuffed out that January night, it is our hope that snowmobile safety will improve and that her death will not be in vain. Hundreds of people lose their lives each year due to snowmobile accidents, so this situation is still critical. Now, it’s my turn to step up and seek action. I contacted the current governor of California, Jerry Brown, to request his assistance with getting the bill passed. Nine years is too long to wait. So far there has been no reply.

Psalm 116:15 says, "The Lord's loved ones are precious to him; it grieves him when they die." (New Living Translation)