(Pregnancy Help Network) As a young boy, I always felt a little out of place. While other kids my age were out playing and socializing, I spent a lot of time at home with my mom, who worked from home sewing traditional church garments called "iminazaretha." My dad worked at a local painting company. Though my little brother and I were doted on and spoiled, as time passed, we gradually began to connect with other boys, finding our way into the world of friendships and peer groups.
When I was 15 and in grade 10, I decided to join a local teenage soccer team. To be honest, I wasn’t very good at soccer—and even now, I still wouldn’t call myself great at it—but I was determined. I made sure to attend every practice, pushing myself to be part of the team and to feel like I belonged.
One evening, after a grueling two-and-a-half-hour practice, I remember walking home with a few friends. We took our usual route through a dark, familiar forest. We were all exhausted, but the joy of being young and fit kept us lighthearted, singing as we walked along. That night, however, something was different.
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As we sang, one of my friends suddenly stopped and asked, “Can you guys hear that?” At first, none of us heard anything, but as we paused and listened, we began to make out a faint, eerie sound— a baby crying in the distance. It was unlike any cry we had ever heard, unsettling and strange. We were taken aback, some of us feeling uneasy. Back in our community, unexplained noises in the dark were often considered signs of something supernatural or even witchcraft, so we knew this was not something to take lightly.
Despite the fear creeping in, one of us suggested we investigate. After all, if it turned out to be something supernatural, we would face it together. Reluctantly, we agreed, and we set off toward the sound. I was likely at the back of the group, but I remember clearly when someone shouted, “It’s a baby! It’s wrapped in a blanket!”
We rushed toward the source of the cry, fear mingled with curiosity. When we found the baby, it was a heartbreaking sight. A tiny infant, probably only a couple of months old, was lying there, crying in the cold. As we unwrapped the blanket, we discovered that the baby was covered in ants and other insects. It was a tragic and painful scene.
One of my friends whispered, “This is Nellie’s baby.” Nellie was a young woman in our community who had struggled with addiction, and instantly, we knew what we had to do. Without hesitation, we decided to take the baby to Nellie’s mother, who lived just a few hundred meters away from my house.
When we arrived, Nellie’s mother was understandably furious and heartbroken. “Looks like Nellie doesn’t want the child,” she said bitterly. We later learned that Nellie, trapped in the grip of drug addiction, felt abandoned and lost. She told me years later that, as a teenager, she had no one to turn to. She had been told by her friends that sex was something enjoyable with a boyfriend, and that it would make him love her more. But no one warned her about the consequences of those choices, and she ended up pregnant and addicted to drugs. There was no one there to offer her guidance or support when she needed it the most.
Looking back on that night, I now understand why I became so passionate about supporting the pregnancy movement. The image of Nellie’s baby—crying and covered in ants—has stayed with me, and it was the catalyst that fueled my dedication to this cause. I believe in the importance of creating safe spaces for young people—places where they can find guidance and support, like crisis pregnancy centers, but also spaces of healing, mentorship, and understanding.
Tweet This: I believe in the importance of safe spaces for young people—where they can find guidance and support, like pregnancy centers.
The baby we found that night is now a lively, energetic seven-year-old boy. Nellie is still facing challenges, but she has a better relationship with her son today, and his grandmother has been a key figure in raising him. It’s inspiring to see how far they’ve come, and it warms my heart to witness their growth.
But as I reflect on all of this, I’m reminded of an important question: How can we, as a community, ensure that young people always have a safe place to turn to—a refuge where they can find the support, love, and guidance they need to navigate life’s challenges? What can we do to speak truth, offer compassion, and help others find their way through the struggles that come with growing up?
Editor's note: This article was written from personal experience by Ntokozo Mkhize, a volunteer in the Pregnancy Help Network/Africa Cares for Life and is reprinted with permission. *In South Africa, it is estimated 3 500 babies are abandoned every year. *
