Cut off by catastrophic flooding and with no hope of an ambulance or helicopter reaching them, a 15-year-old from a remote Little Karoo farm delivered her baby safely with the help of a neighbour and schoolteacher as emergency services guided them over the phone.
The storm – described by locals as among the worst they’ve seen – pummelled the usually arid expanses of the Little Karoo with relentless rain, turning scrublands and fynbos into raging waterways. On Uilkraal Boerdery, about 20km outside Calitzdorp, the bridge linking the farm to the outside world was swept away. Inside a small farmhouse, 15-year-old Melisha du Toit* went into labour.
Her contractions began early on a Thursday as the rain hammered the tin roof. Long before the labour intensified, the family understood they were trapped and alone. With the weather worsening by the hour, neither an ambulance nor a rescue helicopter could reach her. By 5pm, as floodwaters roared past the homestead, Melisha was in active labour. “I knew my baby was coming and there was nothing we could do except trust God and take it one moment at a time,” she says.
“I didn’t panic. I just kept thinking, ‘How is this baby going to come when nobody can reach us?’ But somehow I stayed calm through everything.”
All day she breathed through the contractions in her bedroom, supported by her mother, Lana* (34), her grandmother, Annie* (69), and her sisters, Claudine* (18) and Candice* (9). Then another familiar face arrived: Cornelle Meiring, a teacher at Calitzdorp High School and the wife of the farm owner, who lives about 2km away. Hearing that Melisha needed help, Cornelle rushed through the storm to the farmhouse.
Her first call was to a police contact to try to arrange a helicopter, but flying in those conditions was impossible. Instead, emergency medical services said they would talk her through the delivery over the phone. “I honestly never thought I’d have to catch the baby,” she says. “In five minutes the paramedic explained what I had to do when the baby came.”
With her phone battery at just 28%, Cornelle focused on staying calm as instructions came through. “I was just scared my phone would die before she finished explaining,” she recalls.
At Melisha’s side, Cornelle and Lana offered constant reassurance. “My mom was next to me too while Mrs Meiring talked me through it. I think that’s what helped me most – knowing I wasn’t alone.”
Outside, the storm thrashed on. Then a different sound broke through the rain: a newborn’s cry. “The moment I heard her cry, I just felt relief,” Melisha says. “One moment everything felt scary and uncertain and then suddenly she was here and everything else disappeared.”
They named the baby Mishah*. Wrapped and placed in her mother’s arms, she spent the long night in the farmhouse as the family waited for conditions to improve. By first light, the weather had eased enough for an EMS helicopter to land nearby. Mother and daughter were flown to Oudtshoorn Hospital, where they were checked and given a clean bill of health. “One day I’ll tell Mishah how she came into the world during one of the biggest storms we’ve ever seen,” Melisha says. “But to me she was the calm in all the chaos.”
The farm lies in Warmbad, a striking yet unforgiving corner of the district. Google Maps doesn’t even recognise it – you need coordinates to find this place. For Melisha, born at nearby Sondagsvoor and raised on the land, it is the only home she has known. Lana has brought up her daughters there alone since her husband died in 2017. Floods have cut them off before, she says, but never during a medical emergency.
The Meiring and Du Toit families are closely connected. Cornelle taught Melisha at Calitzdorp High School; Claudine stays at the school hostel during the week. “She’s a wonderful student,” Cornelle says.
When the storm struck on 7 May, even seasoned farmers were taken aback. The Meirings have worked the land for 31 years. “We knew heavy rain was coming so we prepared as best we could,” Cornelle says. “But this was beyond anything we expected.”
For Lana, the ordeal of watching her teenage daughter go into labour with no medical help on hand was harrowing. “When they told us the ambulance couldn’t come and the helicopter couldn’t fly in, I was so scared,” she recalls. “I’ve raised three daughters but I’ve never delivered a baby. I kept praying: ‘Lord, just carry my child through this’.”
Her prayers were answered. Today Mishah is thriving. “She’s a bit naughty in the evenings and the mornings,” Melisha says with a tired but loving smile. “She doesn’t sleep much then but I don’t mind. She’s here and she’s healthy and that’s all that matters.”
After mother and baby were discharged, they stayed in Rietfontein near Oudtshoorn with Mishah’s father and her paternal grandmother until it was safe to return home. “Mishah’s dad is still very much in her life,” Melisha says. “He’s supportive and he brought us home when the bridge was passable again.”
Lana admits she struggled to accept her daughter’s pregnancy at first, but she has rallied behind her. She believes Melisha’s boyfriend is committed to the child and says the family will help care for Mishah. Melisha will return to school when the baby is a little older, Lana adds. “I told my girls, as hard as things are for us, you can lift us out of this by studying. They’re all so clever – they bring good reports home. That makes me proud.”
For now, the family’s needs are modest but urgent: nappies and baby clothes. Gratitude runs deeper than the want. “I still haven’t properly thanked Mrs Meiring and I don’t think I ever would be able to,” Melisha says. “But I want to show her one day that everything she did for us wasn’t in vain.”
Melisha already knows what she will tell her daughter when the time comes: “One day I’ll tell her the whole story – how she came into the world during a flood, how Mrs Meiring caught her, how we waited through the night and flew to hospital in a helicopter the next morning. “She’ll know she was surrounded by love from the very first moment.”
- Pseudonyms have been used to protect the identity of the underaged mom.
