26/05/2026
3386
Three thousand.
Three hundred.
And
Eighty.
Six.
Nights.
And on the three thousand three hundred and eighty-fifth night, she woke from her sleep at 03:47 screaming as though her life was under direct threat.
“I dreamt they took me, mommy.”
“They came and they took me.”
“Please mommy. Please don’t let them take me.”
In most houses around South Africa, the monster in this story would be a criminal.
In the mind of this child, that monster is the very human tasked with protecting her.
_
The amygdala is an almond-shaped cluster of nuclei deep in the temporal lobe. Your threat-detection and emotional memory hub. Your internal smoke alarm.
Except that primitive part of your brain cannot discern between a perceived threat and a lion ready to attack.
In almost every other scenario, our frontal cortex allows for rational reasoning that can override this ‘perceived threat’.
So the natural response — to almost every other child in the world having a nightmare about criminals stealing them from their beds — would be: “Mama’s got you. You’re safe. Nobody can take you away.”
Except in our household, to tell this child that would be to tell her a lie.
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Three thousand three hundred and eighty-six nights mean nothing to those in power.
Last night, as I moved to cook dinner — the 10,158th meal I have been fully responsible for feeding this child — an email arrived. From the powers tasked with ensuring her best interests are upheld. Powers that, in a report submitted to the highest spaces, could not even gender her correctly. Powers that do not care. Powers that have never contributed a single thing of value to her life, and have traumatised and retraumatised and traumatised again.
It’s not only this girl’s brain that has been rendered utterly illogical at this point.
It’s mine too.
My brain that cannot shift out of the utter panic that their incompetence creates. The limbo that negligence indefinitely prolongs.
3386 nights I have tucked this child in.
3386 days I have made sure they have everything they need.
One email.
No care.
And the threat of a life destroyed.
When the very systems designed to protect the most vulnerable in our country continue to cause egregious harm — with no remorse, no accountability, no consequence — what hope lies ahead?
_
Here is what I know about the nights that follow these emails.
My brain does not recover quickly. It goes somewhere primal and it stays there — cycling through threats and worst cases and the particular kind of terror that only comes from fighting a system that holds all the cards. The fundraising emails don’t get written. The grant applications sit open and untouched. The donor calls are impossible. Because the part of my brain that is supposed to do those things is busy keeping us alive.
The Maletsatsi Foundation runs on the edge at the best of times. On nights like last night, that edge gets a lot narrower.
If you have ever considered supporting this work — this child, this house, these 3386 nights, the many children she represents— today is the day. Not because we have a campaign running or a clever incentive to offer you. Because we need it. Because she needs it. Because the system that was supposed to show up never did, and the people who love her have to be enough.
_
Direct donations:
The Maletsatsi Foundation NPC
FNB | Account: 62865881314 | Cheque Account
Branch Code: 210835 | Swift: FIRNZAJJ
Reference: your email address
Registered NPC (2020/257077/08) | NPO (254-968) | PBO (930070879) | Level 1 BEE
All donations are tax deductible.
Every rand goes directly to the children in our care. Every single one.
