In the wee hours of the Idd-ul-fittri my sleep was suddenly cut short by a loud thud in the backyard. My siblings and I rush to check out what was amiss. On top of the mabati roof on our neighbour’s house laid a bundle wrapped in an old shawl. Peering closer we found what we least expected. Covered in amniotic fluids lay a premature baby girl and a fresh umbilical cord still attached. She had just been delivered. Next to her lay a placenta, her only connection to her unknown mother.
My mother a medical practitioner, immediately picked the baby and delivered fast aid checking for injuries. Luckily, she was hardly hurt. Investigating further, we realized that the baby had been dumped from the fourth floor of a nearby flat.