Meet Jordan

“In 1998, the Western Cape had the fourth highest number of murders committed with a firearm.” This is according to the Children’s Institute case study, UCT 2005

• 30 000 legal weapons were stolen in South Africa each year.
• An increasing number of gun-related trauma cases were seen in the paediatric emergency section of the Red Cross War Memorial Children’s Hospital in Cape Town.
• Majority of the cases in the younger age groups were due to them being caught in the crossfire of gang-related or interpersonal feuds.
• The most common places of injury were on the road or pavement, and inside the child’s own home.

– From Fieldwork to Facts to Firearms Control, Research and advocacy towards firearm control legislation in South Africa: A case study, Children’s Institute, UCT 2005

Jordan was playing in front of her home with her older brother and their friends. Jordan is six years old. She starts school next year. She’s going to big school. She lifts her eyes to see who heard that. That’s a very important piece of information. Jordan is in the trauma ward at the Children’s Hospital. Talking is hard. Breathing is painful. Jordan has a gunshot wound to the chest. The bullet went in through her chest and out through her back. Caught in the crossfire of someone else’s war, it’s a miracle that she is here today.

She is conscious and alert, but very weak. She asks to be helped to sit up in the bed. She wants to watch the television. There is a lot of activity in the ward today. She’s determined not to miss anything.

The resilience of childhood is a powerful thing.

Her mother sits stoically by her side. But Rencia’s resilience no longer matches her daughter’s. Like childhood, resilience is slowly lost to the expanding hopelessness of crime and violence.

All the studies and reports seem so removed from the reality of the truth in this mother’s eyes. Her baby could have died. There is a cold anger that erupts in us when we are driven to a point beyond fear. Rencia’s eyes were swimming in it.

There was a time in our country when we were too afraid to leave our homes. Bombs shook our buildings, Casspirs patrolled our streets, and armed soldiers stationed themselves at the gates of our schools.

The gangs may change, but the fear remains.

Studies, like the ones that the Children’s Institutes have done, look at violence from all angles. In trying to understand it we look to the past; and in an effort to prevent it we look to the future. There is always talk of gun control and of firearm legislation.

Violence doesn’t need a weapon.

Violence is a weapon.

Rencia looks over at her daughter. Her eyes hold the memory of tears. She is every mother now. Every mother wants to keep every child safe.

She talks about hearing the shot, and seeing her daughter, lay on the ground, not moving. Her eyes are not alive now. They glaze over, as if she is speaking to no-one, or to everyone. She takes herself through the timeline of events. There is something mechanical about it, as if she can’t be human right now. It’s just too painful to be in the moment. She disappears as she recounts the past 24 hours.

Jordan’s father rushed them to the nearest hospital, where little Jordan was stabilised and transported by ambulance to Red Cross.

Now out of ICU, Jordan will stay in the Trauma Ward for a while. They must monitor her circulation and be alert to any spikes in her vitals. She will be on strong pain medication for a bit. Sister Mbayi ensures that Jordan’s bed is in a special position and does her best to make Jordan comfortable. It’s hard to imagine what it’s like to see children in pain nearly every day.

“I pray,” she says. Sister Mbayi looks away for a moment. Her eyes find the strength to smile. In all the fear, the sadness, the pain, and the violence witnessed by the souls in this ward, there is a prayer that is growing. Their prayer for the well-being and safety of all these children is the same prayer you pray.

And sometimes a prayer becomes an act of service. Vicky, Jordan’s physiotherapist arrives to check on the little one. She spends some time with Jordan and Rencia, teaching both mother and daughter how to alleviate pain when coughing, and how to increase deep breathing and mobility within her pain limits.

Vicky knows how important it is to make it a pleasant experience for these children. Teddy bears are certainly part of the program! Just by implementing her professional training with love, kindness and respect, Vicky has left a prayer by Jordan’s side: a prayer to watch over her and help her heal.

The energy in this ward is miraculous because one must know miracles to understand love. And every child is a miracle.

How many more studies will it take to make miracles matter?

Protect a Child. Protect a Miracle.

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