ON her first day as caregiver in Dukuduku eight years ago, Nomusa Mbatha heard the wails and peered through the window of a shack where she saw a child – a bundle of human misery, so terrible that the memories haunt her even today.
On the floor, on a paper-thin mattress, the severely disabled child was lying, locked inside the shack, alone, without food or water.
The child looked like a three year-old. She was seven.
‘Neighbours said the mother leaves for work at 6am and returns after 5pm. The child started screaming every time a vehicle passed. Nobody ever came.’
It was 2008. There would be many more to come.
‘That night at home, I told my mom what I saw and that I had to help.’
The following day, she discovered a second child – disabled, neglected, alone on a cold floor, without food or water.
This time, she forced the door open. The ‘baby’ turned out to be four.
‘I made porridge, but did not know how to feed the child, so I left the porridge on the floor.’
By the end of the day, there were about ten – matchstick-thin, underdeveloped, malnourished, abandoned and physically and mentally impaired.
The final day sealed her fate.
‘I found a disabled mother of two, sitting in a pool of menstrual blood in a filthy shack, unable to move.
She was waiting for her 12-year-old son to come from school to clean her.
‘I went home and told my mother God wants me to look after disabled children.
‘She asked me how I would do such difficult job. I said: ‘God will have mercy on them and God will guide me to start.’
Foretold in dreams
‘In 2007, while working as a clerk in the Department of Home Affairs, I became very ill and feared I would die.
‘I pleaded with God to heal me, so I can raise my two children.
‘I then had a recurring dream in which I was caring for many children.’
Nomusa was healed and resigned from her position to become a caregiver.
What she witnessed in that first few days catapulted her into an impossible mission – to rescue and care for mentally and physically disabled children.
Now, after almost a decade, she cannot explain how she succeeded in doing her work of love, with no income and virtually no sponsors.
Worse, the only person who did not seriously doubt her sanity, was her mom – the rest said: ‘You are mad’.
Nomusa paid them no attention and went back to find the children’s parents.
No crèche took in disabled children. Social workers said there were no disabled homes. Parents hired and paid caregivers, but they ran away the first day.
The parents, often single and young, had other children to support and were forced to work.
They could not leave food or water, because the children could not feed themselves.
Many were repeatedly raped – no one helped.
Nomusa approached the Mtubatuba Traditional Council for permission to take care of the children, explaining their plight.
‘They told me: ‘Lady, you are mad, but go ahead. We just can’t help.’
So she started at her mother’s house on her pension grant.
The parents had no money for transport, but Nomusa told them to bring them anyway. They could stay.
Incredibly, she cared for them all, on one pension.
A good man
In December 2010, Nomusa married an older man who laid the world at her feet – a mansion in the upmarket Mhlonga Reserve in Ngwelezana.
On her wedding day, she left the children with their parents, promising to return.
In January she told her husband she was fetching the children.
Approached for permission, the female Induna said there were no disabled children in her area.
Nomusa begged and pleaded until permission was granted.
She fetched every single one.
A time bomb
‘You are sitting on a time bomb’, said a social worker who inspected the premises and found it unsuitable for the purpose. ‘We will take them away.’
But the threats were empty since no one else wanted them.
When Nomusa became ill and was admitted to hospital, she saw a stack of hospital beds for sale at R100 each.
Upon discharge, she rushed to a loan shark and bought 15 beds, with no plan as to how she would repay the money and interest.
Her husband transported the beds home – and a load of mattresses and linen donated by Garden Clinic.
In 2014, because of ongoing pressure to find suitable premises, Nomusa secured an old hotel with a hall and three rondavels at R3 000 per month.
There was no running water; it had to be carried from the river over a steep hill.
The uThungulu District Municipality granted her a water truck.
But, criminals started targeting the hotel, stealing toilet seats and frames. They even held volunteers at knife point and took the fridge and TV.
Nomusa moved into the children’s room when they were attacked at night.
In 2015, the local tribal authority needed the premises and they had to move.
To court
Finally, with the help of the uThungulu District Municipality and the ZCBF, with permission from the local chief, Nomusa and her children were relocated to an old tribal court in the eNseleni area.
The ZCBF now pays six women to assist her in caring for 15 children between the ages of three and 18.
Nomusa has sacrificed her marriage and every comfort she had.
‘I can’t give up. They have nowhere else to go.’
She calls the centre ‘Nkosi Sihawukele Disable Centre’ – because ‘God helps us’.
How can you help Nkosi Sihawukele Disable Centre?
• The children use pampers and sanitary pads at astronomical costs.
• The court has no shower or bathroom and the children must be bathed in a tub.
• There is no wheel chair ramp, so the children and wheel chairs must be carried.
• There is no sink in the kitchen. Washing is done by hand.
• There is no security.
• The services of a mobile clinic is crucial. The children must attend the clinic once a month, as they all use medication for epilepsy and hypertension, but there is no transport.
• A vegetable garden would help to make them more self-sufficient.
• Any food which can be prepared to have a soft substance.
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