Hearing about it is one thing. I had to see it with my own eyes before I could fully comprehend the horror bleeding the underbelly of Zimbabwe. It took twins. Twins.

Not the morning talking with women living with aids - Mercy on a cocktail of anti viral drugs, kids 5 and 13, went public, husband took off, headaches, blindness, menengitis, but she's working it through- feeling much better..with luck,on her way. Margaret recently diagnosed; husband won't test. She's philosophical, one in three get it - at least one in every family. Part of life. She will try the anti viral drug, but not yet, not till after rainy season, maybe, December, January...She waved us away, smiling a bit too brightly, it happens she says, it just happens.

Me,a bit hungry, tired, dragging our heels through dusty red streets, shanties of corregated metal, wood, plaster on either side, plants we call tropical, pinks, yellows,flowers pushing up here and there through rugged concrete,kids playing along the way, looking, watching, some shouting hello or shying away from the white lady ..peering warily from behind their mother's skirts. A bit scared.

Twins. I was told about them last week, a boy and a girl, about a year and a half old, but wanted to see for myself. A small garden, a thin man wan, tired, greeting us with one arm, the other hanging limp by its side, his right leg paralysed from a stroke a couple of years ago. The dad watching over two babies sitting on a rug a few feet away. Huge brown eyes. Black hair. Cute, gorgeous. They sit and stare, a pot of gruel between them, black flies circling, landing on their face, hands, arms. They don't swat them away. They don't cry. The babies only sit still. Watching. Big black eyes watching.

I stoop down, say hello, hi...a big smile..they don't move...their tiny thin bodies covered with flies. They just look out. They dont react. I play peek a boo. Nothing..
Nothing.
The mom died a few months ago; the grannie too old, too tired, too poor - they were just moved in from the rural area a few weeks ago. They haven't had doctor's care, shots or milk for months. Yhey eat gruel.
Someone picks one up. She doesn't move; she slumps against a chest, listless. She stares out. Weak, undernourished, wane, whatever words I dredge up, these children can't stand, can't crawl, can't pull themselves up. No energy. Old, tired, done.

I have seen it with my eyes. Children, victims, witnesses of a world gone very wrong.

I have twins at home. At 5 months, they are the same size as these babies.
The woman who brought me there said anything could help, anything. Inside their tiny house, two couches facing each other, a chair at the end, a coffee table, set into a room the size of a bathroom, the dad's brother, out of work, holding the girl, his wife holding the boy, across from me as I open the zipper of my bag. $4,000 each baby for milk for a week, that's about $4. Can...$8 for two...I start counting out my hundreds, thousands, bundles wrapped in elastics, wads of paper money, worthless in our economy yet to this family, worth everything..I release a big chunk of it, almost all I have - it looks impressive. I hand it over. She starts to count. 500, a thousand, 500, another thousand. $13,500 it comes to. $13.50. They are smiling, every bit helps. The family begins to clap,the aunt and uncle, their own older twins, the brother of the little ones, my friends, all of them looking at me, thanking me, clapping. I am mortified. I am sickened by this. I am buying paint, paper, sponges to enthuse, inspire, empower...But milk. Calcium. The white stuff. That's what's needed.
And there is never enough. Ever. Nothing is not enough, nothing will only get them a month, maybe too. And then what. Then what.
What are the answers. I don't know.
I can't wait to get out of there. I'm up and out of that little room.
I just spent $2.60 Can. on this blog.
And I don't even know their names.