Hi, it’s Shaunie. Today I have been giving the responsibility of writing the blog, and I’m following Vicky and Karen so I’m going to try my best to live up.
Today was time for the real hard graft. Everyone came down to breakfast raring to go with gardening gloves and all their gear. We took another ride in our beloved ambulance, who needs to pay for rides at Alton Towers when you can go in that ambulance? At St. Francis we finally met the infamous Faustine, the chief executive of St. Francis, almost everyone remembered the African way to shake with two hands, except Vicky, who in her excitement, got stuck in her Mzungu way and only used one hand. We were grouped into three groups, Rice, Cassava and Matooke, and shipped into more ambulances and driven to our designated gardens. After dropping Sufian’s group at a garden near our guest house, Chloe, Jodie, Jess, Sally and I went on an unplanned tour on the dirt tracks of Jinja trying to find our garden only to arrive there and discover the Matookes had invaded our garden. Sally and Chloe joined the Matooke and Jodie, Jess and I made our way to join the Rice. Arriving at the garden we discovered Sufian had chosen the hard task of clearing a patch of wooden area rather than choosing to prepare the raised beds, is that a guy thing? So we set off and after two hours of hard work we had managed to clear most of the land, though the Jajas (grandmothers) had shown us up by breezing and clearing roughage like it was feathers. At the end of the morning we were all given Ugandan names by the Jajas. Saskia, ironically, was named an axe, Sufian was named Prince, further inflating his ego, but shortly overthrown by Jodie, newly appointed Queen. Nikima was a flower, Jess was a decorative jug, Ben was St. Peter, a phrase to thank god, and I was an ornament given to a bride.
We went back to the Omoana House to play with the children there. Unfortunately, the children were not their usual selves having recently discovered they were ill and this tugged on the heart-strings of numerous people in the group, creating an emotionally charged lunch.
Blog interrupted by Sufian to add this about what we were faced with today:Before we reached Omoana house: Sally was in tears, it was hard to watch, our eyes filled and lumps in our throats, as we asked Sally what was wrong? She had spent the morning with the Jaja’s and after speaking to several women, she came to realise that every one of them had lost their children to the disease and were now looking after their grandchildren. Sally explained to the rest of us how difficult and unimaginable it is for any mother to lose a child, her voice filled with sorrow and her expressions were just too much to take in.
The afternoon did not get better....
We have come to Omoana house on a daily basis and have thoroughly enjoyed the atmosphere in the house. We all struggled to understand and really take in the fact that these children were there for a reason and that reason was the crippling disease which has killed millions in Africa, HIV/Aids. As we left the gardens to go to Omoana house, we were all excited, because playing with the kids is the highlight of our day, the way they warm to us and the smiles on their faces, is perhaps the most rewarding and priceless thing we have come across in life. We knew we had to play less and work more, as we were starting the work on the play ground, which required some real digging.
On arrival, we felt the sombre mood, it was unusual and definitely something we had not really seen before. The children were quiet, they normally run to us and ask if we can teach them to sing, dance, play footie or even have boxing lessons. No one really wanted to ask the children, so Nikima took the initiative and asked the nurse who said that they were poorly.
Mark a young lad, aged around 7, full of life and has a heart melting smile, sat with his head sinking to the ground, his friends Umer and Sir Jim standing beside him, with their hands on his back. As they approached me, I was confused, knowing they were upset, I really was unsure about what I should do or say... should I ask him what is wrong? Or should I ignore it and engage him into a distraction activity? I chose to ask, I was sitting at the door step of the canteen, Vicky was fast asleep in the canteen. When I asked, there was a pause, a silence, I looked at his friends and they looked away, trying to hide their tears, holding Mark close to them. Mark slowly raised his head and said ‘Uncle I have malaria’, my heart sunk, his tears running down his face, showed the pain he was going through, at this stage Vicky was awake, she could hear the crying from both myself and Mark.
I tried to stay calm, I wanted to support him and reassure him, but the look in his eyes told a story, a story which no child should know and have to think about. Malaria is a killer in Africa and those suffering from HIV and Aids have a higher risk and chance of dying as a result of malaria. He cried and cried, saying ‘I don’t want to die, I am scared to die uncle’. I could not stand there and rushed off, as I sat in the garden, trying to compose myself, so I can go back and hug him, tell him he will be OK, I knew that I could not say that because he knew what malaria can do. He came over, the heat of the sun was beating down on me, he stood in front of me, acting as a shade from the sun and asked me to stop crying. I could not believe the strength of this child, as I wiped my tears, he explained to me that his father had died and he was scared of death.
After all this, as you can imagine, lunch was not something I really could think about, but he knew my lunch was being served and asked me to go eat, as I went to eat, he headed towards his room and sat their crying. Vicky, was extremely upset, the emotion in the camp was rock bottom, as water filled eyes looked into their plates of food.
Caeser, the 3 year old little star who has been mentioned in previous blogs, went into the arms of Chloe and began to cry, just when we thought that things could not get more difficult, they just had.
Circle time in the evening, was perhaps the most emotional moment of the trip so far. As every one of us was in tears, from teachers to students, reflecting on the day that just broke our hearts, trying to think about the reality with which these people live, it was upsetting and heart wrenching.
Back to Shaunies blog....
After a release of emotions we prepared ourselves for the garden and began preparing a hedge around the back fence of the house. After placing the hedge seedlings Vicky was given the responsibility of the hose to water the seedlings. On a hot day Vicky’s offer of a ‘splash’ with the hose was too tempting for many to avoid. However, Vicky’s concept of a splash was different to all of ours and many were soaked. At the front of house the wall around the path was painted, this was led by Louise, Jess and Sarah. After various swapping of painters Louise ended up having a competition with a boy from the Shadow Idol club, Ishmael, as to who could paint the fastest and she lost. A worker from the St. Francis helped to dig the sandpit and put us all to shame with his digging skills, because that mud was like cutting though brick, though Nikima gave it a damn good go. Whilst this digging was occurring, Chloe, Saskia, Jodie and Jess collected grass and bricks that were dug up from the pit in a sack and lugged them many metres from the pit to the ever increasing pile of debris.
We were relieved from our work, all with a sense of extreme satisfaction, proud of what we had achieved that day. Back at the hotel we had a much needed circle-time where many of us were able to release our emotions, thoughts and feelings of our experiences that day. With a huge weight off of our chests we were able to get stuck into what are still the best damn roast potatoes ever. After dinner, we had an informal business lesson from Sufian about enterprising ideas that would help the Jajas to sell more of their crafts, which would help them to achieve a comfortable living style that everyone deserves. With numerous ideas under our belts, a full stomach and a hard day’s work most of us were in bed 9pm and asleep by 9.02pm.
So an ambitious plan to get 11 teenagers and Sufian up at 6am for a 7 o’clock breakfast means that at 10pm it is time for bed.
