Thursday 15th November 2012
 |
| Shivau, the child I have sponsored |
Nothing could have prepared me for today. I came back from my day out in the community physically exhausted and mentally drained. Before I start to tell you about the day I should say two things. Firstly I will apologise now for the fact that today’s blog will probably be very long as I have so much to tell you. Secondly I forgot to mention at the end of yesterday’s blog that the Marburg suspect died late afternoon. I didn’t witness the collection of the body, but it was seemingly an event that attracted a large spectator crowd, albeit it from a distance. A team from Medicins Sans Frontier along with Government officials arrived in bright yellow protective suits to collect the body bag which was loaded into a special vehicle and taken away. They brought Isolation Tents and a range of other equipment but decided that it was not necessary to isolate any of the staff who had been in direct contact with the patient which was a good sign. However they said it would be Friday morning before they could complete the necessary tests and confirm the diagnosis one way or another.
Anyway, back to today. The day started with the usual shower, weetabix and Chapel. At the breakfast table I was thinking about the day ahead and it occurred to me that I was unlikely to get any lunch so I decided to take a couple of the small bananas . However, there were only a few on the plate and as the other guests hadn’t eaten yet, I restricted myself to just the one and filled up my water bottle from the cooler in the kitchen – it would be a meagre lunch but it would do. When I got back from Chapel, Phillip asked me if I would like to take a packed lunch. I didn’t know how he knew I was going out for the day, but it was a very kind offer and so I accepted. I then had an extremely frustrating 50 minutes trying to attach a document to email to the office in Chester. I got as far as opening Hotmail, but every time I tried to attach the document, an error message would appear. I had to abandon the plan at 9.50am as I was meeting the Orphan Programme Co-ordinator, Night, at 10am and she had already told me not to be late as the driver would be waiting. I go to the kitchen to collect my packed lunch, only to find it is currently in the process of being cooked! Egulas is frying chapattis so I wait whilst she finishes the third one and am presented with a huge parcel wrapped firstly in silver foil and then in a plastic bag. I thank her and head off. I was quite breathless when I arrived with about 20 seconds to spare, having rushed up the road (nursing by now what sounded like a 40 a day smokers cough) from Rose Cottage through the hospital gates and into the second courtyard, to Night’s Office.
We set off 20 minutes later than planned as Julius, our driver, has gone to get the tyres pumped up in preparation for “the very bumpy roads we will have to travel along” I am informed. We had travelled about half a mile down the track when Julius indicated towards a field on the right hand side and tells me that this is the spot where the Marburg body was buried. Although I knew that tests were still being carried out, another of my coughing fits suddenly took hold and I remember hoping that a chesty cough was not one of the early symptoms?
Having been bumped and bashed around in the back of the Toyota Land Cruiser for a further 15 minutes, our first stop was at Ikona Hillside Primary School where I was warmly welcomed by Headmaster Chris. We arrived at break time and all the staff were in the staff room having a cup of tea. I smile and politely decline their offer to join them. Chris takes me into his office and it is strangely reminiscent of my own desk covered with piles and piles of paper and files - pus the odd piece of clothing and what looked like some sheets. He cleared some stuff off a chair for me to sit down and also removed some of the debris from the desk when I asked if it was ok to take his photo. He loved that idea and made me promise I would send him a copy of the photo. We had come to the school to meet Grace, an orphan who is being sponsored by Julie, a colleague from the Countess, and Julie had sent over a gift and letter for me to give to Grace. The children in the playground are an absolute delight, giggling and shouting to be heard above the chatter of their friends. They jostle each other in an effort to get to the front of the crowd when I bring out my camera, and as I’ve said before I think their favourite part is looking at their own images – shrieking with laughter when they find themselves on the screen. It’s time to leave, so we wave our Goodbyes and get back in the vehicle and start driving uphill again. It’s a fair incline and a few minutes up the road I see a guy with a bicycle really loaded up with bananas that he is struggling to push. It reminds me what a hard life it is here. I imagine if he is lucky enough to sell all his stock, he may perhaps make the equivalent of about £8. We visit another school on the way to the village and Night explains that she has three children on the Programme here so she just wants to call in and see the Headmaster to check on their progress, so we make a short stop.
It’s then another 15 minutes of trailing along increasingly bumpy roads until we come to a small village and Night tells me she is looking for their Community Volunteer, She explains that each village has an appointed Community Volunteer and any orphan families who are suffering hardship are referred by the volunteer to the Orphan Programme co-ordinated in Kisiizi by Night, on behalf of a charity based in Reading. Children are classed here as either single or double orphans depending on whether they have lost one or both parents. We find Jane, the volunteer, a really jolly, happy lady with an infectious laugh. She is wearing a long maroon shift type dress and flip-flops. She joins me in the back of the vehicle and we bump along for a further five minutes climbing higher up the hillside. Night explains that we are seeing some new referrals today, families that she has not met before. We arrive at what doesn’t look too run down a house, small but with a reasonable front door and roof (often key items missing from other houses I have seen) and a small garden area at the front. However when we go inside it is a very different story. The floor is dry earth, the walls are bare and there are just two benches, one along the wall opposite where we have entered, and the other on the wall to the right of the door. To the left of the door sitting on a on the floor on a threadbare mat is a lady a pale blue T shirt, a skirt and a green piece of cloth wrapped around her head. It’s difficult to judge her age. She is probably late 40’s but looks a lot older. Jane explains to me that Winifred has nine children and she lives with them all in this house which has just three small rooms. Her husband died a week ago after being terminally ill for two years. The family had to sell their plot of land (it was used to grow crops to sell and to feed themselves) to pay for the husband’s medication. I won’t ever complain about the price of an NHS prescription again. When she can get any work she picks crops for somebody else for a wage of 2000 shillings a day (50p). I ask Jane how she manages for food. She apparently gets a bit of food from neighbours whenever they can spare it, and the 50p a day she gets buys then some millet which they grind and mix with water into what sounds like an extremely unappetising type of porridge. There are five younger children sitting on the bench to the right of me and I ask whether they go to school. Apparently they used to, but have now been excluded because she cannot afford to pay the fees. It is a heartbreaking story, except it isn’t a story - this is the harsh reality of this family’s life. It was far worse than I could ever have imagined. Sitting to my left, is Sampson, an older boy who passed his exams and was offered a place at University but has had to take a “dead year” (deferred his place), again, because the fees cannot be paid. He has been studying sciences at school and now wants to study Procurement and Logistics Management. A few minutes earlier I had been thinking about offering to sponsor one of the younger children but now I that I hear about Sampson I have a dilemma. Who will get the most benefit from my sponsorship? And how do I choose? I tell Jane to ask the mother who she would like me to sponsor. Without much hesitation she points to Sampson and I know that in my heart I am glad she has. I can see that Sampson is an intelligent young man. He is 19 and going to University is the only opportunity he will have to make a better life for himself, and hopefully help his family as well. Night starts getting all his details down in her notepad so that she can complete the necessary paperwork. Sampson is clearly very pleased, shakes my hand and says thank you. He promises he will work hard and I know that he will. I look at the younger children sitting beside me and it is very hard not to offer to help them all as well, but I have to be practical about what I can afford. I then think about the fact that I will only be committing to four years of sponsorship for Sampson to complete his degree so I find myself telling Night that I am prepared to sponsor one of the other children as well (sorry Peter!). Who does the mother think would get most benefit? She chooses the boy on the end of the bench who looks the oldest, maybe nine or ten. It turns out ‘he’ is a ‘she’ who is 11 years old, and her name is Precious. She smiles shyly and says thank you. More paperwork is completed and then I ask if I can take some photographs, so we go outside. I take Night to one side and ask if it is appropriate to give the family some money and she says that will be ok. I haven’t brought a lot of money out with me so I give Winifred 40,000 shillings (£10) and she seems very grateful. It’s not a lot to me but to her it is the equivalent of 20 days pay. Sampson stands up to say a few words on behalf of the family which is unprompted and very touching. He gives thanks to God for bringing me to their house and for the kindness I have shown them. As we bid the family goodbye, I remember the lunch parcel in my haversack and ask Night whether she thinks the family would like it. Night has already mentioned to me that we will be going to a hotel for our lunch, so the chapattis that were prepared for me are really no longer needed. She asks Winifred who looks very pleased at this suggestion and tells the children what is in the parcel as I give it to her. They looked pleased too. Night gestures to the family who are all standing in the garden and says “You see, this family is much happier now than when we arrived. Before they were depressed and now they are smiling”. Their beaming faces as they waved us goodbye was worth much more than the £10 donation, a packed lunch and the £36 a month sponsorship I had signed up to.
It sounds a cliché, but as I hoisted myself back into the Land Cruiser (not easy as the step was very high) I knew that this small gesture really would make a big difference to a family who I am unlikely to ever meet again. However, through letters we will send each other I hope that some form of relationship can be built and they will at least know somebody is thinking about them and that life is not as hopeless as it may have seemed yesterday.
I am now slightly worried that there is an expectation I will be sponsoring a child in every family that we visit today, so I explain to Night that this will not be possible, but that I am still interested to meet more families. She says she understands and Julius is instructed by Jane which route he should take. We are travelling along a very narrow path with the hedges brushing the windows on either side of the vehicle, when we come across a lady wearing a white T shit and a piece of pale blue and red patterned materials wrapped around her waist like a sort of skirt. Jane points and says something in Ugandan so we stop and she gets in. I assume we are giving her a lift somewhere. We carry on around a few bends and end up driving through a small gap into a field with hedgerows on all sides, and I see that we have arrived in a field with a young boy and about 20 goats. There is no house to be seen? We get out and follow Jane through the gap turning left, going up the lane then right into another field. We see a house in front of us with a family sitting at the front and two washing lines of clothes blowing in the breeze. But this is not our destination. We walk round the back and a bit further up we see a small mud shack. The lady we picked up en route goes in the front door followed by Jane, then myself and lastly Night enters the small rectangular room. It takes me a few seconds to realise that this is her home and this is another family that needs help. On two walls there are posters of Chelsea and Manchester United Football Clubs, nothing else. There is just a short bench against one wall which we sit on facing our ‘hitchhiker’ who is sitting on the floor. I am already thinking that I can see another sponsorship looming as I hear a bit more about the family. There are five children, and Mable, (I have now found out her name), works on a patch of land she has adjacent to the house where she grows millet and G nuts but it is very hard to make much money. Her children go to Government schools but she is finding it hard to pay the fees. I have no idea whether Mable was expecting a visit or any help but as I look across at her sitting as if she had the weight of the world on her shoulders, I knew that I had to do something to help. I asked Night to see what help it would be if one of her children were to be sponsored. She explained that it would help a lot because it would reduce the school fees she had to pay; she also knew the child would get a pair of shoes, a mattress and blanket that the younger ones could share (they currently sleep on some straw matting) and the child would get a better education in a private school rather than the Government one. Well that was enough to convince me. I agreed to sponsor one of her children. (Peter I promise this is the last one). She told Night that her 10 year old daughter Shivau is the one she would like me to sponsor. Shivau was at school but Night took down all the details and told me we would go and visit her at the school either before or after lunch. I left taking the memory with me of a lovely smile and wave from Mable as we walked back to the car.
I told Night I really could not sponsor any more children and she said the next visit we were making was to see somebody whose two children were already on the programme. That was a relief. Apparently their Mum has a problem with her feet and sometimes finds it difficult to walk or work and in certain circumstances some social support is offered to families where children are on the Programme. The roof had been leaking and Night wanted to check it out. We drive for between 10 and 15 minutes and then head off the road into the middle of a banana plantation. I have no idea where we are going, surely there can’t be somebody living in here? We head up a tiny track until we can go no further. We are completely surrounded by banana trees. Julius then does a seven or perhaps nine point turn so that the vehicle is back facing the way we have just come. I assume he has taken a wrong turn. Wrong. He turns the engine off, and he and Jane get out and head through the trees. I look at Night for some sort of explanation and she tells me that they are off to buy some bananas. Doh! I suppose that should have been obvious ... NOT! I must have looked puzzled so she explained that bananas were much cheaper here than in Kisiizi.
We sat in the car for 10 minutes and it by now it was baking hot. Well over 35 degrees. When we are driving along I get a nice breeze from the driver’s window, but now I am sitting in a metal ‘box’, feeling (and probably looking like), an oven roasted chicken. I am thirsty but have already made the decision not to drink too much of my water as I don’t know when and where I will get the opportunity to go to the toilet. I am hungry, it’s 2pm and a long time since I had my weetabix at 7.30am. I remember my little banana (all five inches of it) so extract it from my haversack. Obviously I have to offer Night some and she accepts. So we sit in the ‘oven’, each savouring our two and a half inches of banana whilst keeping a look out for any sign of Julius and Jane. Night has her mobile in her hand and announces she is going to make a call. I am really surprised that she will get any signal out here. Turns out she didn’t mean a phone call, but a call of nature. She popped behind a banana tree and in no time at all she is back rubbing her hands with hands gel. She’s clearly done that before! Just when I think I really am going to collapse with heat exhaustion, the banana hunters return with their bounty. How they carried three huge braches (not bunches) between them I don’t know. They were so huge it was difficult to fit them through the back door of the vehicle. I ask what each branch costs and it is 10,000 shillings - £2.50! There must easily be more than 100 bananas on each branch. No wonder they eat so many bananas here.
We get moving again and at last I feel a bit cooler. We drive down the track and turn right. We seem to be going further into the banana plantation! A few minutes later we pull up outside a stone shack and everybody gets out. Night explains this is not the house we are visiting; the one we are looking for is a little bit further up the hill. A little bit further? I am not exaggerating when I tell you we trekked at least half a mile uphill, (probably more). I was struggling to breathe when we finally reached a little hedge and I saw a roof in the distance. Thank goodness, the target was at last in sight, and I should get the chance to sit down for a few moments. As we approached, a lady dressed in a pink top and red skirt appeared at the door of the house. We followed her back inside and I could see that she was struggling to walk. In the gloomy interior of the house it was difficult to see her feet and also because she was now crouched on the floor. Night introduces me to Allen and she shakes my hand. As usual we sit on the bench and Night asks Allen how the children are doing at school and how painful her feet are at the moment. The children are doing very well apparently and Night tells me they are ‘really, really beautiful children’. I see the ‘bedroom’ – a small area curtained off in the corner of the room with a piece of bright purple material and this is where the roof is leaking on to the mattress she shares with the children. She has recently built her own outdoor ‘kitchen’ and Night offers to take me outside for a closer look. It consists of a piece of corrugated iron held at a 45 degree angle by two reasonably sturdy looking branches. In the centre there is a sort of grill pan and some half burnt charcoal and ashes and this is where Allen cooks all the meals. There are no sides, so when it rains she can’t cook. We go back inside and Night asks Allen to show me her feet which are extremely deformed. I am not exactly sure what the problem is – I think club feet – and in England this is something that would have been corrected with an orthopaedic operation as a baby. I don’t know how she can manage to walk at all. I ask Night what the cost will be to repair her roof. For all the sheets of corrugated iron, the nails and a person to make the repair the total cost will be around 190,000 shillings - £45 – the costs of a meal out in the UK. I agree to pay to have the work done which makes Allen very happy. I also give her my last (almost) 20,000shillings – I need to keep a bit back to pay for lunch. As we leave she comes to the front door and apologises for the fact she cannot walk to the end of the garden with us but her feet are very painful today. I feel embarrassed at moaning (only to myself) about the trek we made earlier to reach her house and vow to never again complain about my knee pain.
We get back into the car and make our way to Shivau’s school which is apparently quite close to the hotel we are on our way to. We meet Headteacher Henry who goes to in search of Shivau. She is quite a timid little thing wearing a pink dress and has a cross attached to green beads hanging around her neck. Night explains who I am and she has her photo taken firstly with Henry and then with me. As I sign the visitor book I wonder whether in years to come she will remember the day when a Mzungu (white person) in a blue spotty dress arrived at school and was introduced as her sponsor.
It really is time for lunch now. Its 3.15pm and I am pretty hungry. Julius is instructed to take us to the hotel. I am not sure what to expect, however I don’t think I expected what we got. Perhaps the word ’Hotel’ has a different meaning here? It was basically a room (you entered though a white tasselled curtain (or it may have been an adapted tablecloth), with wooden benches against the walls to the right and left of the door. On the back wall facing you as you entered there was a bar, and to the right of the bar a small door which presumably led to the kitchen, and possibly the toilets. There were no stairs to any upper level bedrooms, so unless they put mattress to convert the coffee tables that were positioned adjacent to the benches and used as dining tables (not that easy to eat from), I don’t have a clue where anybody slept. The only other possibility is that they had single storey buildings at the back, similar to the layout at Rose Cottage. We ordered cold bottles of Sprite, but the difficulty now was ... what to choose to eat? I remembered in the vehicle whilst chatting to Night as we waited for the bananas to arrive, that she had asked me if I had had a ‘running stomach’. So far I had been fine, but I have to admit I was wondering whether my luck was about to run out. There was no menu, just a verbal list of dishes reeled off by our waiter. I recognised only two options – rice and beans so I opted for a portion of each of those.
As I am paying the bill, Night says she is going next door to her friends shop. She tries on a dress but is not sure. We head back to the car and I am relieved that we are not making any more visits today as I am feeling quite exhausted by now and also it means that I won’t be faced with any further temptation to sponsor another orphan.
We drive back and Julius stops to drop off one of the branches of bananas at his home. About 20 minutes later the vehicle pulls up outside Rose Cottage and I give Julius my last 10,000 shillings telling him it is to pay for one of his trunks of bananas for being such a good driver. He thanks me and I promise Night I will be at her office in the morning to pay for the roof. I get some change to purchase a ginger been from the fridge outside and almost collapse in a heap on the sofa in the lounge. It has been a hell of a day!
I try again to send the document to work but it proves impossible so I call over to have a coffee with Sarah and Sam. Sam shows me her “stash” of sweets and chocolates and tells they always have a chocolate party one night – that is certainly something I will look forward to. My chest is really bad now and I am coughing up some pretty horrible stuff so Sarah gets Dr John to check me out and he gives me some antibiotics. I go back to Rose Cottage to get ready for dinner but by now I’m alternating between having a temperature and feeling shivery. I have a pounding headache and the light is hurting my eyes. All in all I feel quite rough. I decide I will be better going straight to bed so tell Philip I won’t be eating. He offers to cut me up some pineapple which sounds great and goes down a treat. The girls arrive for dinner and Sam gives me a knock. She says if it is any consolation, I look like s—t! I check the ‘mirror’ by the door to see how bad I look ... it catches me out every time! About 20 minutes later there is another knock at the door and it is Philip asking if I would like some chocolate cake. I’m not sure that my scratchy throat can manage chocolate cake but he assures me it is ‘very lovely’ so I accept. He brings me a plate with five pieces of cake and a mug of tea. I put the tea to one side not wanting to offend him – I will pour it away later – and get back into bed under the duvet with my cake. I only intend to eat one, maybe two pieces, but it is so light and so delicious, before I know it I have devoured four pieces. I put the remaining piece in a zipped plastic bag (a tip I was given to ensure I don’t attract ants). I get the mug to pour away the tea which looks even thicker and more like condensed milk than usual. As I start pouring, I realise it is not tea, but custard which was to accompany the cake! I manage to save about half which I eat with the spoon he has left me. I had been wondering what that spoon was for!
Lights out at 8.45pm and I am hoping for a good night’s sleep.
