Wir machen es uns dieses Wochenende einfach und haben einen Artikel aus dem Namibian eingefügt, der die Geschichte einer Grossmutter erzählt. Sie sorgt, wie so viele andere Grossmütter ihrer Generation für die Enkel und Nichten ihrer erwachsenen Kinder, die sich wichtigeren Dingen, wie ihrer Karriere oder wie im Artikel beschrieben dem Stadtleben widmen. Das Phänomen, dass man seine Kinder von der Grossmutter betreuen lässt und sich aus dem Staub macht, beobachten wir auch hier in Rundu. Es ist wohl dem Übergang vom ländlichen, traditionellen in das städtische, moderne Leben geschuldet.
Cancer-stricken granny cares for 19 grandchildren
CROWDED SITUATION … According to Snyder's grandchildren, most of them share this one bedroom shack. Four sleep on a single bed, while the rest sleep on the floor.
OUMA Maria Snyder is a poverty-stricken elderly woman who, besides living with her 19 grandchildren and has baby number 20 on the way, is also battling breast cancer.
One would mistake the erf in Windhoek's Havana settlement for a kindergarten, but reality hit home as we approached the corrugated iron shack that is home to 20 family members who depend on donations and government grants for survival.
“Sometimes I just want to abandon these children when things become too unbearable, but I ask God to give me strength to continue,” says Snyder, a retired domestic worker.
Three of her children have died but their surviving siblings - two sons and three daughters - have all dumped their children on her door step and disappeared to follow the glitter of Windhoek life, a growing trend that is evident in most poor families in Namibia.
“I cannot turn my own grandchildren away,” the 70-year-old Snyder says.
During the interview, the children play in the yard - some climbing the fence and others having screaming and wrestling matches. The children's youthful energy is too much for her advanced age to cope with as they play around her raising the dust.
She tries to call them to order but her voice is barely audible above the screams.
Snyder says the social grant she receives every month is only enough for a little mealie-meal with N$400 of it going towards the taxi fare for Catherine who attends Acacia High School. The rest of the children are in primary school.
“None of my children contribute financially to their children's upkeep. I don't know where my daughters are, except for one who comes here drunk sometimes,” she says.
Our interview is interrupted when Snyder suddenly panics when one of the children, six-year-old Brendon is almost hit by a passing car while playing in the street.
She shouts at him to get out off the road. “You see, this is what I have to deal with every day. These children make my blood pressure go up,” she says while shaking her head as the boy comes crying towards her.
As if raising 19 children is not enough, Snyder says she was diagnosed with breast cancer which has spread to afflict both her breasts. She refuses to have a mastectomy, however, saying it is not worth the trouble.
“I am a sick woman. Some days are bearable, but other days are hell,” she says of her health condition.
Snyder said that it is hard to look after the children well with her poor health. But it is not only her own health that she has to worry about. “The children often get sick and I sometimes have to beg for money from neighbours to take them to the clinic,” she says.
While battling her health issues and taking care of her 'brood', Snyder was shocked when she learnt that her eldest grandchild, Caroline (19), is five months pregnant.
Caroline dropped out of school last year and has no plans of going back.
“She does not even want to tell me who is responsible for her pregnancy,” the grandmother says. The shy teenager says she has no plans of returning to school and says she does not know the whereabouts of the man who made her pregnant.
In the Snyder household, the children compete for food and sleeping space in the cramped corrugated iron shack.
“We only drink tea in the mornings and our next meal is in the evening. Everyone gets only one spoon of pap otherwise it would not be enough for all of us,” says Catherine (14).
Catherine, the only outspoken one, says it is difficult to do her homework with all the screaming babies and toddlers around her. A racing contest begins when Snyder announces that their next-door neighbour has some leftovers from her kitchen, but only the younger children are allowed to go.
Ouma Snyder points to another grandchild, 18-year-old Sylvanus who was raking a neighbour's yard in exchange for money and old clothing to support the family. Sylvanus, who is mentally disabled, was forced to drop out of school after a permanent blow to his head three years ago, and the scars remain with him to this day.
“He was mistaken for a thief and was hit in the head. I had always hoped that he would finish school and become our breadwinner but now he has to clean other people's yards to support the family,” explains Snyder.
With a house full of 19 children and another addition to the family on the way, Snyder says she often wonders what the future holds for her and her grandchildren.
“People often ask me what will happen to the children when I'm no longer here one day,” she says. Snyder believes that if young people cannot take care of their own children, they should not have them at all. “Why give birth when you cannot take care of your own child and then give someone else the responsibility?” she asks.
“Sometimes I just want to abandon these children when things become too unbearable, but I ask God to give me strength to continue,” says Snyder, a retired domestic worker.
Three of her children have died but their surviving siblings - two sons and three daughters - have all dumped their children on her door step and disappeared to follow the glitter of Windhoek life, a growing trend that is evident in most poor families in Namibia.
“I cannot turn my own grandchildren away,” the 70-year-old Snyder says.
During the interview, the children play in the yard - some climbing the fence and others having screaming and wrestling matches. The children's youthful energy is too much for her advanced age to cope with as they play around her raising the dust.
She tries to call them to order but her voice is barely audible above the screams.
Snyder says the social grant she receives every month is only enough for a little mealie-meal with N$400 of it going towards the taxi fare for Catherine who attends Acacia High School. The rest of the children are in primary school.
“None of my children contribute financially to their children's upkeep. I don't know where my daughters are, except for one who comes here drunk sometimes,” she says.
Our interview is interrupted when Snyder suddenly panics when one of the children, six-year-old Brendon is almost hit by a passing car while playing in the street.
She shouts at him to get out off the road. “You see, this is what I have to deal with every day. These children make my blood pressure go up,” she says while shaking her head as the boy comes crying towards her.
As if raising 19 children is not enough, Snyder says she was diagnosed with breast cancer which has spread to afflict both her breasts. She refuses to have a mastectomy, however, saying it is not worth the trouble.
“I am a sick woman. Some days are bearable, but other days are hell,” she says of her health condition.
Snyder said that it is hard to look after the children well with her poor health. But it is not only her own health that she has to worry about. “The children often get sick and I sometimes have to beg for money from neighbours to take them to the clinic,” she says.
While battling her health issues and taking care of her 'brood', Snyder was shocked when she learnt that her eldest grandchild, Caroline (19), is five months pregnant.
Caroline dropped out of school last year and has no plans of going back.
“She does not even want to tell me who is responsible for her pregnancy,” the grandmother says. The shy teenager says she has no plans of returning to school and says she does not know the whereabouts of the man who made her pregnant.
In the Snyder household, the children compete for food and sleeping space in the cramped corrugated iron shack.
“We only drink tea in the mornings and our next meal is in the evening. Everyone gets only one spoon of pap otherwise it would not be enough for all of us,” says Catherine (14).
Catherine, the only outspoken one, says it is difficult to do her homework with all the screaming babies and toddlers around her. A racing contest begins when Snyder announces that their next-door neighbour has some leftovers from her kitchen, but only the younger children are allowed to go.
Ouma Snyder points to another grandchild, 18-year-old Sylvanus who was raking a neighbour's yard in exchange for money and old clothing to support the family. Sylvanus, who is mentally disabled, was forced to drop out of school after a permanent blow to his head three years ago, and the scars remain with him to this day.
“He was mistaken for a thief and was hit in the head. I had always hoped that he would finish school and become our breadwinner but now he has to clean other people's yards to support the family,” explains Snyder.
With a house full of 19 children and another addition to the family on the way, Snyder says she often wonders what the future holds for her and her grandchildren.
“People often ask me what will happen to the children when I'm no longer here one day,” she says. Snyder believes that if young people cannot take care of their own children, they should not have them at all. “Why give birth when you cannot take care of your own child and then give someone else the responsibility?” she asks.
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