Angel attributes: kindness and generosity in Mondesa.

Esta and Amelia come running into the lounge with arms stretched out wide and big smiles on their faces. They are followed by the three older children, one carrying Owen, the toddler, with their eyes shining bright. Naftalene's motherly love engulfs them like a hen's wings folding protectively over her chicks.

Naftalene Mauha of Mondesa, Swakopmund has always had an abundant, exceptional love for the vulnerable. As a child growing up on her grandparents' farm in the Omatjette region, she would often take in injured lambs and birds. As a teenager, she did not think it was right for her cousin's young son, who was forced to leave school in standard 2, to sit on the farm and do nothing. She managed to get him back in school and used what little pocket money she had to buy clothes for him. It seems Naftalene's life has always revolved around helping others in a most unselfish way.

"I just love children," says Naftalene who can effortlessly recall dates and details of the countless children she has looked after since the first baby was put in her charge when she was only 17 years old. In Swakopmund, where she moved at age 22, Naftalene turned her home into an informal safe house for adults and children in need. There she shared whatever she had with up to 14 other people, all of them living in one room at times. Even a devastating fire, which destroyed all of her possessions, did not bring an end to her generosity.

In 2002, Naftalene became a Catholic Aids Action volunteer, qualifying as a counselor and home-based care giver. It was during this time that she was confronted with a new reality. "Five years ago HIV and Aids was still highly stigmatised in the community. People isolated themselves and hid away when they were ill."

Naftalene remembers a visit to a woman in the DRC informal settlement. "I found her in a terrible condition. The house looked like it had not been cleaned for months. There was not a crumb of food to be seen. She kept on saying, 'You must take the child. I was meant to pass away three days ago, but could not die in front of the child. You must take the child today.'

A little boy, about four years, crawled from under the bed. He was filthy, covered in sores and urine, and his head and tummy were swollen. I gave him one look and thought 'what now?'" recalls Naftalene as she points out Jonas, a healthy and bright boy still living with her.

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Since then there has been no stopping Naftalene, and more orphans and HIV-positive mothers with nowhere else to go arrive at her doorstep regularly. Even with her little house packed to capacity, she never says no to anyone in need. She has a network of charities she calls on for assistance, or if there is no way out, she offers her lounge floor for a night or two until a solution is found.

Naftalene has no sponsors or regular donors and makes do with her small salary as a counselor at the New Start Centre. In an effort to formalise what she is doing, and hopefully qualify for assistance, Naftalene has applied to Government to register the Tears of Hope welfare organisation.

Despite all the hardships, Naftalene's angel attributes take over when she is prompted to talk about the difficult part of her life. Her eyes glitter and her smile remains warm. Nothing seems to get her down: not monthly financial worries and struggles to provide a balanced diet for the seven children in her care; nor the "Aids Mother" label some people in the community attribute to her; nor her own family who warns her she will also get sick.

"It is the Lord that gives me the will to continue," she contends. "If you have the will, you can do it."

Story and photo by Maggi Barnard