World Prematurity Day and a New Nephew

This is my brand new nephew, born on Wednesday 13 November. He has arrived about six weeks too early and looks much bigger in this picture than he actually is. Actually you cannot grasp how little he is until you pick him up, all 1,8 kg of him. He's all skin and bone and wrinkly as anything. He seems far too fragile to be out here.

Perhaps with a nod to making the right entrance, he decided to put in an appearance during World Prematurity Week. Today, 17 November, is World Prematurity Day, celebrated around the world to improve awareness of premature birth and how it can be prevented. Millions of babies are born prematurely every year of which 1 million die, about one baby in ten. It has become the leading cause of newborn deaths. (Premature babies are babies born before 37 weeks.)  Simple care like warmth and feeding support are essential to improving the chances of survival of these babies.

Giving birth is such a common occurrence that we tend to forget what a miracle and blessing it is that everything proceeds without a hitch. In spite of his early arrival, he has all the reflexes for survival and here he is holding onto his father's thumb for dear life.

And here he is three days old, already looking a little more handsome.

May he and all the other preemies go from strength to strength and live long and productive lives. 

In Remembrance

This morning I had to abandon my plan to read my book for African Literature while I was having a coffee at my local cafe. Not for the first time during the last two months I have simply wanted to weep because of what I was reading. 

This week we are looking at Antjie Krog's Country of My Skull,  her account of the proceedings of the Truth and Reconciliation Committee. It's such a dark place that we get to when we look back at our horrendous past - oppression, violence, torture and death. I have not gotten beyond the first few chapters and already I am horrified by the stories that are being revealed. This is why I have been subconsciously been putting off reading this book.

A community should not wipe out a part of its past, because it leaves a vacuum that will be filled by lies and contradictory and confusing accounts of what happened. Krog writes bravely and sensitively about a horrendous past. 

For my Public Culture course I am looking at culture in Africa through music during the apartheid era. What could possibly make me want to weep when I am looking at music, you may wonder. I came across the story of Vuyisile Mini who composed the protest song, "Ndodemnyama we Verwoerd" or "Watch out, Verwoerd!". Mini was one of the organisers of the resistance and was arrested in 1963. When he refused to testify against his comrades he was sentenced to death. His booming voice singing that song could be heard by fellow prisoners just as he was about to be executed. 

Birth by Peter Harris, Tomorrow is Another Country by Allister Sparks and Midlands by Jonny Steinberg, have all had me wondering anew at the miracle which got us this far.  We are a deeply damaged society and we need to work hard at building that "rainbow nation" that Archbishop Tutu, who headed the TRC, talked about. As painful as it is, it is important to know our history, so that we may endeavour not to repeat it.