In August of 2005 I walked into a malnutrition clinic
supported by JAM in Benguela, Angola. I hate these places, I
thought to myself, as I entered the building. Is this what
they mean when they talk about the smell of death, not a
vile smell, but rather the strange confluence of antiseptic,
milk (from the therapeutic formula being used) and human
body odour. Fearing to look down at the children lying on
blankets on the floor, I prepared myself for the inevitable.
The sight of children, so malnourished that their little
bodies are just skin and bone, feeding tubes inserted into
their noses and a lifeless blankness in their eyes. This
room was filled with lifeless and troubled souls. I started
to examine the children, as their mothers watched my every
move with great desperation. No words were exchanged, yet
volumes of communication passed between these helpless
mothers and myself. Then I saw him, Mateus Jamba (Matthew),
a 2-year old boy lying wrapped in a blanket …lifeless…dying.
Matthew’s face was so gaunt that his bones looked as though
they could burst through his skin at any moment.
I
asked his mother if I could open the blanket, and as I did,
I wished I had not. The blanket revealed one of the worst
sights I am yet to witness in my life. The smell of rotting
flesh filled my nostrils, a sharp pungent smell. “My God his
skin is rotting off his body”, I exclaimed. Large portions
of his skin were literally falling off his body, his hands
tied to stop him from scratching the skin off, revealing
large open wounds. His ribs protruding to the point that
they appeared as though they were above the skin. The nurses
in the clinic tried to feed him small quantities of a
therapeutic milk mix, but to no avail. As they would inject
it into the feeding tube, Matthew’s painfully weak body
would convulse and he would vomit up the milk. I looked at
one of the people with me and said “there is no hope for
him, he will die in the next few days”. We prayed for the
young boy and I recall thinking, only a miracle can save
him. As we walked out of the clinic, I thought again, I hate
these places.
The trip came to an end, and as is necessary in our work, I
put this emotionally draining experience behind me and
continued to do the best I could to meet the needs of those
children who can be reached before getting into Matthew’s
condition. Then, a few weeks later, I received an email from
our Angolan office. The tone of the message was filled with
a tangible excitement as it explained that Matthew had
survived and was not yet totally stable, but was doing much
better. The next message told of how he had progressed from
the therapeutic milk to a highly nutritious porridge,
provided to the clinic by JAM. This is always a great sign
and normally means a child is now out of the critical stage.
I
returned to the same clinic in February of 2006, and was
shocked to see who was waiting there to meet me. Matthew,
not the Matthew I had seen dying just 6 months previous, but
rather a chubby, healthy young boy. It was evident that his
mother had dressed him in his very best clothes. I smiled at
her and her face lit up. She did not say anything but her
smile showed more gratitude than any words could possibly
express. I sat with Matthew on my lap, gave him candy and
battled to contain my emotions as they showed me a picture
of him as I had last seen him. My mind wondered to those
children who don’t make it to the clinics, who we don’t
reach in time, who die as just another statistic. A child
dies every 8 seconds, not just a statistic, but a human
tragedy of epic proportions. What can we do to stop this, to
bring about justice, a justice that sees no child die of
starvation. We do what we are doing, we start with one
Matthew at a time, gain back time, 8 seconds at a time, we
just continue doing what we do but on a much larger scale.
R 350.00 a year, just R 30.00 a month, is all it takes to
provide a nutritious meal a day to a child like Matthew.
Nothing elaborate, nothing complicated, just a meal a day. A
meal, which ensures we are able to gain back time, 8 seconds
at a time, one life at a time. Please, I ask you from the
bottom of my heart, we cannot continue doing what we do
without you. You are essential to our quest for justice for
the Matthew’s of Africa, children who deserve a meal a day!
Isak Pretorius
Executive Director
Joint Aid Management
Mateus
Jamba, better known as Matthew, almost died of malnutrition
at the age of 2. His mother Madelena helplessly watched him
shrivel to skin and bone, as she could not sufficiently
provide for him. Matthew ended up fighting for his life in a
malnutrition clinic in Benguela City, Angola during the
month of August 2005 when he became rapidly weak and sick as
a result of his condition. He was so undernourished that his
skin began peeling off of his body. It was so severe that
his mother had to bind his hands together to prevent him
from scratching off his skin. The staff at the clinic also
had to apply mercurochrome to all the open wounds and sores
found all over his body, including his mouth, in order to
prevent further infection. Today he is a living testimony of
how JAM's feeding schemes in clinics like these, save lives.
He has recovered miraculously and after the first month of
treatment he was sent home. The treatment provided by JAM
includes feeding children, like Matthew, milk for the first
few weeks of their struggle but then they are given CSB - a
corn soya porridge, at the clinic, as they grow stronger.
They are also given a take-home ration of CSB once they have
left the clinic. Matthew is now 100% fit, fat and healthy
thanks to JAM's therapeutic feeding programmes – which are
implemented in malnutrition clinics throughout Africa.
Please click
here to view some footage of Matthew's
previous condition and recovery
Matthew
– Rescued from Deaths Door! 
I
asked his mother if I could open the blanket, and as I did,
I wished I had not. The blanket revealed one of the worst
sights I am yet to witness in my life. The smell of rotting
flesh filled my nostrils, a sharp pungent smell. “My God his
skin is rotting off his body”, I exclaimed. Large portions
of his skin were literally falling off his body, his hands
tied to stop him from scratching the skin off, revealing
large open wounds. His ribs protruding to the point that
they appeared as though they were above the skin. The nurses
in the clinic tried to feed him small quantities of a
therapeutic milk mix, but to no avail. As they would inject
it into the feeding tube, Matthew’s painfully weak body
would convulse and he would vomit up the milk. I looked at
one of the people with me and said “there is no hope for
him, he will die in the next few days”. We prayed for the
young boy and I recall thinking, only a miracle can save
him. As we walked out of the clinic, I thought again, I hate
these places. 
I
returned to the same clinic in February of 2006, and was
shocked to see who was waiting there to meet me. Matthew,
not the Matthew I had seen dying just 6 months previous, but
rather a chubby, healthy young boy. It was evident that his
mother had dressed him in his very best clothes. I smiled at
her and her face lit up. She did not say anything but her
smile showed more gratitude than any words could possibly
express. I sat with Matthew on my lap, gave him candy and
battled to contain my emotions as they showed me a picture
of him as I had last seen him. My mind wondered to those
children who don’t make it to the clinics, who we don’t
reach in time, who die as just another statistic. A child
dies every 8 seconds, not just a statistic, but a human
tragedy of epic proportions. What can we do to stop this, to
bring about justice, a justice that sees no child die of
starvation. We do what we are doing, we start with one
Matthew at a time, gain back time, 8 seconds at a time, we
just continue doing what we do but on a much larger scale.
Mateus
Jamba, better known as Matthew, almost died of malnutrition
at the age of 2. His mother Madelena helplessly watched him
shrivel to skin and bone, as she could not sufficiently
provide for him. Matthew ended up fighting for his life in a
malnutrition clinic in Benguela City, Angola during the
month of August 2005 when he became rapidly weak and sick as
a result of his condition. He was so undernourished that his
skin began peeling off of his body. It was so severe that
his mother had to bind his hands together to prevent him
from scratching off his skin. The staff at the clinic also
had to apply mercurochrome to all the open wounds and sores
found all over his body, including his mouth, in order to
prevent further infection. Today he is a living testimony of
how JAM's feeding schemes in clinics like these, save lives.
He has recovered miraculously and after the first month of
treatment he was sent home. The treatment provided by JAM
includes feeding children, like Matthew, milk for the first
few weeks of their struggle but then they are given CSB - a
corn soya porridge, at the clinic, as they grow stronger.
They are also given a take-home ration of CSB once they have
left the clinic. Matthew is now 100% fit, fat and healthy
thanks to JAM's therapeutic feeding programmes – which are
implemented in malnutrition clinics throughout Africa.
