The welcome

It was the frail but incessant cry of a new born that alerted the night guard of the city orphanage of the presence of a baby in the nearby thicket that was part of the facility’s security barrier. “Poor thing!” he thought to himself as he pushed through the thicket to pick a bundle of a baby girl wrapped in an old multicolored shawl. He could see insects had already clamped together in the ears, nose and mouth.

“Why didn’t your mother take you to the reception while it was still day?” He asked her disturbed, rocking her in his dirty arms. “They bring unwanted and abandoned babies here. Some women come every year and there is no shame and no need to hide”. “You will be lucky if the lady devil reincarnate takes you at this hour. I hate to have an encounter with her myself but there’s no way I can let you die here. At least die in her hands.”

By now the baby had stopped whimpering possibly due to the rocking motion. The guard stopped the monologue and peered at her a little more intently, then continued “You are already dead anyway. Just finish it a little honorably, if there’s any honor left”.

The owner of the orphanage was a heartless middle aged woman with no propensity for kindness or mercy. The only reason she took the children in was for the financial gain. But then that didn’t mean she was to be disturbed at any hour. She berated the guard and with threats of dismissal, and warned him never to disturb her sleep. Such babies are best left to the stray dogs.” Where else will they get their food?” she asked callously?

The guard had wisely covered the baby’s face as he quietly received the insults and handed the baby to the woman. And it was just as well, because all hell and some more, broke loose as soon as the woman saw the clamps of black ants. She almost broke the door, but the guard was long gone.

Using the corner of the multicolored shawl she wiped off some of them and left the rest as work for the next day attendant.

She got some cold watery milk in a baby bottle and shoved it into the baby’s mouth. The baby though too weak to suckle was forced to swallow the substance. Most of it ended on the shawl, the only garment the baby had, that was already soiled, and rendered it wet and cold. This didn’t bother the woman however, and once the bottle emptied she flung the miserable bundle on a mattress that was on the floor; cold, wet, hungry and unwashed.

Then the woman retired to a queen size comfy bed in an adjoining room slamming the door behind her, her ears deaf to the cries of the unfortunate babies in the facility.

“You should be grateful you have a roof over your heads you scoundrels,” She said under her breath with a sneer on her face as she flipped through a ‘Women Rule the World’ magazine. One thing that never ceased to puzzle her was how a woman could go through the nine months of discomfort then dump the child. Not that she felt any sympathy for either, but there were so many easy, cheap and accessible ways to have your cake and eat it too.

An excerpt from a book by Anne Kawumi.