Beatrice is seven years old. She lives in Zambia. She loves to run and play around the mud-brick houses with grass-thatched roofs.
Even though she is amongst the 90 per cent of Zambians who live on less than two dollars a day, she is still a fun-loving little girl.
But a carefree life has a short run in Beatrice's world. Twenty per cent of children die before the age of five.
Beatrice's mother died a few years ago. Her teenage sister, who is pregnant by a husband who has already left her, is raising Beatrice.
By the time Beatrice hears the thin, persistent wail of her newborn niece, she has lost her sister due to complications arising during the delivery.
The maternal mortality rate in Zambia is amongst the highest in the world due to malaria, malnourishment, poverty and HIV/AIDS.
Miriam, the newborn, cries and coos, her arms waving in the air. But nobody reaches for her. In a village filled with single mothers and grandmothers caring for their own families there is no one left for Miriam.
Seven-year-old Beatrice decides she will “take her.”
The days are consumed with scavenging food. Miriam cries a lot. She likes to lie in Beatrice's lap; she wants to be carried. She doesn't like being left alone. Abandoned by her own family, Beatrice understands Miriam's needs.
This is just another child-headed household in Africa — a phenomenon growing dramatically across the continent.
Miriam does not get bigger like other babies. Her arms and legs get thinner, her skin starts peeling, her hair grows in patches. Fleas infest her fingernails and toes. There are open bleeding sores.
Beatrice cannot go to school like the other children in the village. The villagers keep their distance from her, keep their children from her. They cannot afford to care; they have their own burdens.
Miriam's eyes become infected, pus flowing regularly. Beatrice has access only to dirty water in the village.
Surprisingly Miriam survives to her second birthday but she still cannot sit up by herself. The years have beaten Beatrice as well. They are hungry, so hungry, and cold, in desperate need of nourishment and medical care.
This story has a happy ending, of sorts. A nurse from a faith-based organization finds this little mother and child.
Of sorts: Despite Beatrice's extraordinary survival instinct her life is surrounded by a silent curse. Her mother died of AIDS; Miriam's father died of AIDS.
Despite this legacy, the open sores, the fetid water, the little girls are not infected. Their story is a miracle. For now.
