I can’t say that I wasn’t warned.

I went ahead and sent it anyway.

I just truly had no idea how badly the odds were stacked against me.

My previous experiences just left me totally in the dark as to how desperate times are for some people. That’s my defense. I just had no way of knowing. No preparation for having something so simple going so wrong.

And I’m sorry.

Sorry that some people are disappointed. Sorry that someone won’t get what was intended to be a keepsake memory. Sorry that the depravity of others is so exposed.

When my friend in South Africa announced the impending birth of her daughter, I wanted so badly to send something to the newborn.

After all, it’s a custom here in America to gift the new baby with things she might need during her first few months of life when life for the parents can be overwhelmed by new routines, the new baby and all the trappings of family that must still be attended to.

But I don’t know how life is in South Africa.

I don’t deal with the corruption of government on a personal level and day-to-day. I’m removed from those things, living as I do in my cotton wrapped world of peace and prosperity.

So, I persevered in my desire to send the baby something to celebrate her entrance into this world.In retrospect, that was probably rather selfish of me as my friend has worried about the package getting there and has tried to keep track of it — something she didn’t need to waste her time on.

What I ended up sending although practical in nature, was personal more than anything. I kept the baby’s sweet face in my mind as I created the crib quilt with the animals embroidered on it and her name and date of birth in the center panel. I didn’t spend a lot on materials — it was made of simple cotton gingham with some eyelet lace for trimming.

She’ll probably grow up to be a tomboy and eschew such feminine trappings, but I still wanted her to have something that celebrated her birth, her sex and her innocence.

However, as I was warned, the possibility of it reaching the baby was very slim due to the corruption of the hands that the package must pass through on it’s way there.

And as prophesied, it has not arrived.

Some African thief is sorely disappointed in this coup I feel certain. It surely cannot bring anything in the way of money for the sale of it as personalized as it is. And there’s not enough lace to make it worthwhile to remove that and resell it. Certainly there isn’t enough fabric overall to make clothing for anything but perhaps a child. I hate to think of it torn to pieces in rage at it’s lack of worth, but that’s certainly one outcome.

Or maybe, just maybe I can retain some small hope that the quilt is being used to wrap some small bundle of joy somewhere.

Yes, I guess I am a Pollyana.

è¿é

Tags: crime, government corruption

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