This is Gugulethu (Goo-goo-lay-too), or Gugu for short. At least that's what he is called at Musha Wevana children's home in Zimbabwe where he now lives. Gugu has got to be one of the cutest little two year olds I've met - he loves attention, climbing up into my lap and perching himself there for the duration of each of my visits to his home.
Gugulethu isn't the name given to him by his mother - no one knows that name anymore. Gugu was with his mother when she went to the local hospital late one night looking for treatment. When his mother snuck out in the early hours of the morning, she left Gugu behind - no doubt wracked by guilt and shame, but so near death and with no means to provide for her son that she felt there was no alternative. The Zimbabwean hospital had no food - "not a single bite," I was told by the doctor - to give to Gugulethu, so he was brought to the Musha Wevana home run by friends of ours at a local church. The home is already overcrowded - 20 children have been permanently added since September - but it is the only place in town where Gugu had a chance at survival.
The desperation in Zimbabwe has reached a new level that I had not seen before - children are routinely left in hospitals, city parks, and even open fields by mothers and caregivers unable to supply even one more meal or one more drink of milk or clean water. Knowing their child might die abandoned must rank as a better option than facing the certainty of watching the child starve in the parents' care. The fortunate ones are found and brought to places like Musha Wevana. The others are buried in unmarked graves when their bodies are found.
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