Johannesburg, South Africa. December
Her name is Janette Nangu. The girls at the club have given her the stage name Scarlett because of her ruby red lips and her ability to seduce any gentleman caller with her sultry curves. She grew up in a small village tucked away in the Malawian mountains, where her only hope of survival was learning how to farm or to marry a hard worker. She decided that her life would be different. In attempts to make something more of her life, she scraped together her meager savings from selling mangos at the local market and hoped on an old charter bus to the bustling city of Johannesburg, South Africa. Hopeful that this change will bring her a greater life, she heads south.
After spending several nights in the dangerous alleys of the city, the pains from lack of food and sleepless, worry-filled nights finally catch up with her. As the cold, gray glow of early morning sun creep into the shadows of her temporary home, she stretches her arm out and pushes herself off of the cardboard box she has made her bed.
"Today is going to be different," she thinks to herself. "No more scraping the trash bins for food, and sleeping with one eye open to guard my meager belongings. I am going to find a job today, no matter what the cost."
Strapping her multi-colored, hand-made bag across her shoulder, she sets off with her head held a little higher, and a pinch of excitement surging through her stomach as she wonders what the day will bring.
Walking along the busy side streets, people left and right nudge and bump her as they make their way to wherever pressing event is demanding their time. She passes an attractive, middle-aged African woman. She is wearing dark wash trendy jeans, with tall black leather boots and a long red pea coat. The woman in red gives her the lookover; the gaze that every woman dreads coming from another woman. With her manicured eyebrow curved up, she quickly but meticulously looks over Janette's tattered brown skirt and worn t-shirt; starting at her toes and gliding all the way up to her hairline. It was a split second that the woman in red had to look her over, but that's all it took for Janette to surmise what she was thinking. There was no compassion in her stare, just cold-hearted disdain for this vagabond. This causes Janette's shoulders to slump a little lower, and the peep in her step to slow a bit.
While the well-dressed women clipping their heels along the street continue to look at Janette with disgust, the men walking along the street give her a bit different look. Through her grime-covered cheeks and hand-me-down clothes, Janette is still quite a beauty. Her wide set, light brown eyes are framed with two evenly shaped dark eyebrows. Her nose is dainty and perfect, but it is her lips and her glossy smile that have the ability to make any gentleman weak at the knees.
As men bump shoulders with her on either side, their eyes are not studying her clothes, but are caressing from the top of her smooth starry-black hair, to her heart-shaped face, down to her hour glass shaped body. They make it very apparent with their smirks and bold remarks that they are enjoying watching her nervously hurry down the street.
Trying to ignore the penetrating stares of men, she travels deeper into the city desperately looking for a sign that says "For Hire". As she walks, she notices the plethora of sings advertising for Adult Entertainment.
"I hope it never comes to that," Janette prayed silently.
The more the sun edged over the top of the sky and descended down to sunset, the more desperate Janette became. She had noticed the looks and heard the remarks of the men passing her in the streets. She had always been labeled as the prized treasure of her village, and had had many offers to serve certain men in ways she never wanted to explore. There was always a constant whisper in the back of her mind to explore this business, but her morals and dignity held her back.
As her legs grew weary and her shoulder ached from carrying her bag, the voice in the back of her head grew louder and louder.
Come on Janette; it's easy. You have the looks, you have the talent, and you have the desperation. All it takes is the courage to admit it that this is your destiny. It's all you have. And it will make your life easy and your cares light.
Just as the thought died with the sunset, she noticed one more dark building at the end of the street, with a flashing advertisement stating: "Pretty Girls Wanted. Pay is Negotiable." She walked closer to the dark and mysterious building and tried to look into the tinted windows as she pushed open the glittering door and walked inside. A cloud of smoke hit her immediately. She rubbed her eyes, refocused, and took in her surroundings. She was standing in a black room, black walls, black ceiling, and a black floor. About ten feet ahead of her was a purple velvet curtain hanging over a doorframe. Hot pinks, vivid blues, and green apple greens bounced back and forth through the tinny slit of an opening in the middle of the curtain.
Circling the room, her eyes fell on a chubby, balding man, who looked like he was in his mid forties. He was hunched over his desk, tucked away in the right-hand corner of the front room, busily looking through pictures of young women.
Janette cleared her throat and walked meekly over to his deck. He lifted his head up slowly, gave her a once over, and handed her an application. She took the piece of paper, sat down along the wall, and silently wiped away tears as she filled out the form.
A year and 10 months later, Janette is standing in the living room of her apartment looking down at her 9-month pregnant belly, just as desperate as she was standing in that dark building. After months of prostituting herself and loosing tiny pieces of her heart, she found herself once again alone and frantic for a way out. After she got pregnant, she vowed that she was going to have an abortion, and dispose of it as quickly as she could. Her doctor prescribed her a pill that would kill every brain cell in this tiny life form upon birth, and she didn't have any money to pay for hospital bills.
When she first took the pill, she reasoned that there was no way she could take care of this baby even if it was born alive, and she couldn't bear the thought of it being raised by someone else. Since she did have to deliver the baby, she would do it alone, and she wouldn't look at it, or touch it once it was born. It wouldn't be her burden to bear anymore.
Alone in her apartment she painfully delivered the baby. Tears streaming down her face, she stared at the lifeless child laying face down on her bloodied carpet. She didn't even look to see if it was a boy or a girl. The more she let her gaze hang on her child, the more she noticed something different. It's little back was rising slowly up and down, as if it was breathing. A wave of panic washed over her as she realized that it was alive.
"The pill didn't kill it? It didn't work? Not what do I do?? Now what??" Janette screamed in her mind.
Every action at this very moment remained a blur to her. She rushed into her bedroom, pulled out the nearest shoebox, and grabbed a towel. Erasing every emotion and feeling she had, she went into a cold and mechanical mode to complete the task at hand. She threw the towel over the baby, picked it up hastily, and tossed into the shoebox, placing the lid firmly on.
Running out her apartment door and down the concrete stairs, she slid in her car and put the box on her passenger's side seat. She shakily started the egnition, slammed her foot on the gas, and sped off to the nearest garbage dump. Seeing a large garbage container a few miles away from her complex, she swerved her car to the right and parked alongside the bin.
Turning off the engine and grabbing the small package, she threw open her door and lurched out of the car. With her tiny fingers securely wrapped around each end of the box, she dropped it in the bin.
Her stomach sank. She walked back to her car with shoulders slumped and eyes watery. As she got into the driver's side and shut the door, she gripped the top of the steering wheel and placed her forehead on the center as soft sobs escaped her lips. She didn't even look at its face.
***As most of your know, I am working at an orphanage for abandoned babies this month called Door of Hope. While this story is not true, there are many instances where mothers who find themselves in this exact situation leaving their babies to die. Door of Hope has found many babies in this situation, in garbage bins, on the side of the road or at their doorstep barely breathing. When I first started working with this ministry, my soul was constantly grieved for these children and their 'heartless' mothers. I could not fathom how any woman in her right mind could carelessly throw away her child. The more I learned about the culture and the struggles these women face, the more God softened my heart for them. It hasn't justified anything in my heart for their actions, but God has given me grace for them. These women are still His children too, and Hehas grace for them. Ouch. Tough lesson. I wanted to write this story to you from my heart: the story that shows the mother's side of this sad truth. I wanted to imagine their side of the story; what it looked like for them to throw away a part of themselves. I apologize if this blog is too graphic for your taste, but it's simply truth. There is a generation of women in South Africa who are desperate for the love of our Father. Desperate enough to give up their child in attempts to find hope. As you read this blog and pray for my team's ministry this month, please remember to lift up the women; the hated and despised women who are in dying for someone to show them grace. They need our Savior just as much as these babies do.
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