I was in the kitchen, when Angel told me her sister had passed away. Angel is my

domestic help. She said it matter of factly and I asked when the funeral was. It was

going to be that Saturday. Neither of us realised what this would mean.

I was a mother of two girls aged 2 and 10 months, Shani and Miki. Miki had been premature - a little mouse of 1.4 kg and I was still breastfeeding her. I had always expressed milk for her as I was working full days as a medical practitioner and she spent most of her time in my reception behind the desk with Theresa, my receptionist. I fed her in between patients when possible, but we had the extra milk for days things were too busy. Every week the extra milk would be picked up for the breast milk bank for HIV orphans, so none went to waste. I also thought expressing the extra bit would help me with losing the pregnancy pounds so my motivation was not entirely selfless.

On Monday when Angel returned from the funeral she came in distraught and wanted to talk. We sat in the lounge in front of a painting I’d done when I was pregnant with Shani, my eldest. The significance of which would only be realized three years later. She told me there’s a baby - her sister had been pregnant with her fourth child and that she could take in the three brothers, but couldn’t manage a newborn, especially not a sickly one. She referred to the baby as ‘she’ as is common practise in Zulu culture and I mistakenly took it to mean the baby was a little girl. She wanted time off to go to the social workers to see if the baby could be put up for adoption. Angel had two children of her own and would now have five. A newborn was out of the question.

I felt my heart sink, and a sense of responsibility came over me. I felt a little voice was saying softly in spirit, “I want you to take this child”. I thought, “Lord, if that’s you, you must be crazy. Miki is only 10 months old and I’m working full days, how would I cope?”  I thought “Lord, that’s fine, but you need to tell Corne too”. I told Corne about the existence of the child and that Angel was thinking of having the child adopted.  On Wednesday evening Corne came to me and said “Die Here sê ons moet hierdie kind vat”. (The Lord says we must take this child).  Corne’s company was going through a difficult time and he didn’t have a consistent income at the time. We were dependent on the medical practice to cover our expenses.

I phoned Angel who was in the bus on the way to her social worker’s appointment on Thursday morning and told her that we felt we wanted to take the baby, and that if she agreed and was happy with it she should ask the social worker how to go about things.

This story will stun and amaze you, an experience so profound it motivated us to benefit charities as part of the overall marketing strategy - find out what happened in this riveting and exhilarating account of human kindness...