The heartbreaking column I never thought I'd have to write.

This is the column I thought I would never write – and it breaks my heart.

In 2011 I visited the neo-natal unit of Zimbabwe General Hospital in Harare, on behalf of UNICEF. It was one of the most disturbing things I have ever seen and haunts me to this day.

It was clear that it had once been a world class institution, but the state of the art incubators were standing idle, because there was no reliable source of electricity.

“What happens to the premature babies?” I asked.

“Let me show you,” said an exhausted pediatrician.

Around a corner there was an old wooden table. Twelve tiny little babies (all naked since there was no money for nappies or blankets) laid on a rough towel on the table.  On the corner an old-fashioned bar heater was propped up. This was the only source of heat – something so crucial for premature babies. A nurse was standing at the table with a tube of oxygen which she slowly moved between these tiny babies.

Trying to hide my tears, I turned around. Behind me was the ward. Mothers looked at me with the quiet desperation and deep grief that you only see in mothers who have come to accept the unthinkable. When they know that the little babies that they felt inside them for months, had painfully given birth to and already loved so much, will die in the next few hours. When all they can do is to sit with them quietly on their final journeys only hours after being born.

What nearly broke me that day was knowing that if these babies had been in a hospital where there was electricity, equipment, and enough doctors they would almost certainly have survived and their mothers would have taken them home in weeks if not days.

When I left, I vowed to help, but I was also deeply thankful that - despite the inequalities - things were so much better for babies born in my country.  

Last week, I read an open letter written by pediatrician, Dr. Tim de Maayer.

In a distressing and moving account, Dr. De Maayer relates how babies and small children are dying– not because of a lack of good medical staff, but because the most basic things are not provided to the hospital he works in.

He describes doctors trying to incubate tiny children by the lamps of their cell phones, of not having running water and not being able to get children urgent scans, because parts of the scanner were stolen and not replaced.

He pleaded: “I wish you could come to our unit and see …the cold neonate whose incubator went off with the loss of power (from load shedding) and did not keep him warm.”

This knocked the wind out of me.  This was exactly what I saw in Zimbabwe a decade ago – except this was not Harare, but Johannesburg. 

The image of a tiny little baby dying because he could not be kept warm enough in an incubator had me in tears. It also infuriated me.

How difficult could it be to get the most basic things right?!

For example: surely it is a non-brainer to exclude hospitals from load shedding? From what I have experienced in Cape Town, hospitals here are exempted. Why can’t that be done in all cities? Also, how can they not prioritise clean water to hospitals?

Most importantly- what the hell are the officials at the Department of Health doing that they can’t sort out the things they are paid so handsomely to do?

According to the World Bank, South Africa spends over 9% of GDP on health. Percentage wise, that is about the same as Australia and Denmark. It is more than Greece, Ireland, Italy and Luxembourg and just slightly less than amongst others Austria, Belgium, Japan, Netherlands and the UK.

So it is not that there isn’t any money (as was the case in Zimbabwe).  Either the money is not being spent wisely – or there is a total don’t-care attitude by those who are making and/or implementing the decisions.

After I read Dr. de Maayer’s letter, I reached out to every possible contact I have in government, including the presidency – all who promised to do something.

(Btw: the only person who didn’t respond to me was the mayor of Johannesburg – I trust that she was too busy solving the problem!)

I also contacted Dr. de Maayer to ask how we could help. He said that he had been fielding calls for days from people who wanted to assist.

For that I’m thankful and not surprised, because ordinary South Africans have big, caring hearts.

However, why must an already overworked but brave specialist, take time out to  write an open letter, before these problems are addressed?  Also: what happens once the emotions calms down again?

One can also only assume that there are many hospitals facing these and bigger challenges.

Dr. de Maayer asks politicians and officials in the Department of Health: “Would you send your children here?”

Of course, the answer is no. Politicians and officials have really good medical aids which the state contributes to  - and will all send their children to private hospitals.

So let me put this challenge to the Minister of Health, MECs and officials: Please go in your personal capacity  – without the big car, protections officers and fancy clothes, and quietly sit for a while in the emergency rooms of our state hospitals. Experience what South Africans and health care workers have to go through. Then ask yourself if you are doing your job good enough.”

I’m sure the answer will be no.

You have to get out of your offices and see what is going on, because the lives of people and tiny little babies are literally in your hands.

Every time you do not react to a phone call or do not follow up on a letter, or allow corruption to take place, you are responsible for someone dying.

I saw what bad political decisions and a lack of care did in Zimbabwe. Are you really going to let things deteriorate to the point where tiny babies are lying naked on tables with no heat before stepping in?

May the awareness that babies are dying unnecessarily on your watch, for no other reason that you aren’t doing anything to stop it, haunt you like those babies in Zimbabwe still haunt me and finally get you to take action.