No, not cannibals. This is not that kind of story.
So if not cannibals, then what? Sand fleas!
Walking back from a neighbours house on Sunday morning, we were told of a short cut to our house and took it. We thought nothing of it, but certainly did think how great it was that we’d found a shorter route home. We won’t be making that mistake again. Although neither of us felt anything at all, or saw anything at all, walking through the tall grass at early morning just meant that we were ripe for the taking and have been bitten nearly 100 times. The section of grass we walked through didn’t take us longer than 30 seconds, but thats all it took to have our feet, ankles and lower legs looking like the face of a pubescent teenage boy. At first we thought it was just a mosquito bite or two, but every minute another lump would raise its ugly head and before we knew it, our feet were just itchy masses of flesh that were no use to anyone! With there also being a power cut all day and night, we were unable (until today) to use the power of google to find out exactly what it was so didn’t know how to treat it. Luckily, we are not too far from a pharmacy and this afternoon got some treatment that has calmed them down for a bit. Unfortunately, that hasn’t been great news for getting work done on the orphanage today.
Nicole had such a severe reaction to the bites that she couldn’t sleep even a wink all night and spent most of it sat in the dark with her feet in a bucket of cold water to try to take some of the sensation away. Although I was scratching and seem to have even more bites, mine were not so bad at night and I was able to sleep relatively well and still went off to finish the painting today. I needed something to take my mind off of the bites too, as as soon as I finished the 3rd room of the day, I started to realise quite how bad my feet really were. Unfortunately this meant that I finished up an hour or so earlier than I normally would and headed home to get Nicole and to take us both to the doctors.
Its not life threatening or anything, but we were initially concerned that they may be mosquito bites and with us being in malaria territory, there is always that fear that it could have been much worse.
8 people live in this room, those are their freshly made “beds” on the floor and these clothes are all that they own. The items that are being sorted through, are what your donations bought at the market on Saturday.
This is where the 3 smallest children sleep at the moment. On a blanket, in the corner, next to a loose electrical socket. We’ll be changing all of that with your donations as soon as we can.
Even with it being a cut short day, both the boys and the girls bedrooms have been finished in regards to painting. The girls (and the youngest boys) share the same room and started unpacking everything to put it all back in its place. After our day at the market, they have a ton more stuff than they did the day before and I can see a real need to get everyone in the house some sort of storage, be it a stackable box or a set of draws of some sort. We’ll be using donations to get them something in the coming days.
One major development today, though, was finally having the new gas cooker installed. As you may remember if you’ve been following us since the start, the children were using damp fire wood to cook on a makeshift open fire in the corner of the kitchen as they had nothing else. A temporary fix of a 2 hob table top gas cooker (with one hob broken) was then brought in, but today they finally got a full 4 hobs AND oven to work with. I was expecting to just have the house mother be excited about this new development but when I was showing her how it all worked, the entire house came in to see it for themselves. They seemed amazed that you could have a fire to cook on, without a match and within seconds. The gasps of wonderment at how it could work were a particular highlight today and I caught at least 2 of the older children taking it in turns to light a hob to watch it go!
4 hobs that all work, an even oven for the first time ever! What do you think to the blue colour that they chose for the house? Much brighter than the dirty, dusty concrete of before.
One disappointing thing today, however, was that despite promises, the children are still without running water. I was assured that it would be rectified today, and I can only hope that it happened after I left a bit earlier than usual. I’ll find out as soon as I can, but until then, to give you an idea of what having no water looks like, this is one of the boys having his daily wash in the garden from a bucket. No child should have to do this. Think about him next time you moan that your brother/sister/flatmate/partner has used up all the hot water. If you want to help him have a real shower each day instead of this, please donate here.
Thank you for all your continued support. Your donations have made all of this happen. Tomorrow I’ll be heading into Harare (the capital city) to buy foam and pvc material to make bespoke mattresses for the bunk beds and more steel to make the next batch. Materials like this are much cheaper there compared to locally, although we’ll use locally skilled workmen to make and assemble the finished beds. Going to Harare means that we won’t get chance to deliver the first bed until Wednesday now. So watch this space for how that one goes down!
Nicole, after a night & day trying not to rip her own feet off meant not being able to leave the house, will go back to Great Hood Academy School again for the first time in a while to spend more time with the children there and go through the arrangements for us to give a presentation to the children about us, where we come from and what we are doing here in Zimbabwe. Hopefully it will result in us being able to really hit home to all the children that there are others that have even less than they do and that charity is something that we should all be involved in if given the opportunity.
The boys wave goodbye and thank each and every one of their donors. They also love their new clothes that the donations bought them on Saturday.
Please keep your donations coming in, it all goes directly to help these amazing children and even a tenner can make all the difference. Todays shopping to feed 17 of them for one meal cost only $6. So see if you can find that in loose change in your pocket and donate that perhaps…
The children of Tariro Orphanage have just had the best day they’ve had in a long time and it was a pleasure to be involved in helping make it happen.
When we walked through the door of their “home” just a week and half ago, I never thought that we’d be where we are now. I never thought for a moment that in such a short space of time we’d see such an amazing change in these, now, 17 children. We’ve been having the conversation amongst ourselves these past few days wondering if some of the children were mute, or if something terrible had happened to them in their previous homes, or on the streets where they were found. Was the trauma of being abandoned too much for them to bear? Was the grief they endured when their parents died too much for them to want to get close to anyone ever again? Was the pain of being alone in the world too much for them to even imagine happiness again?
To encounter a child so devoid of happiness and of life itself, was a horrific feeling. But we didn’t meet just one like that, we met 17, and all at the same time.
So there we were, assessing what we’d seen at Tariro on Day 6. Trying to put into words what we thought we’d come across. We thought as many as half a dozen were mute. Thats the one thing that really stands out to me now. You could point, and smile and ask a question, but you’d not get much of a response. They did basically understand what we were saying, and would react to it, but not in a ways we expected. So the fear that something so traumatic had happened to them, that they had withdrawn into themselves so much that they no longer spoke, was a real concern. How could we help? What could we do that would make any difference?
In a word: Love.
This is Thomas. He is my new best friend. He loves being tickled, chips and cake. He doesn’t like pizza. He’s also melted my heart these last few days.
For the first week of meeting this amazing 2yr old, Thomas never said a word. He’d make a sound a bit like the “Hmmm” noise you make when someone says something to you, and you don’t hear them properly, and you want them to repeat themselves. You could shake his hand, pick him up, give him food, give him a hug and almost anything else you would do with a normal child of his age, but he’d only ever make that one noise. He seemed such a quiet soul, but always a little withdrawn, and always pretty much silent.
Fast forward 9 days from our first meeting with him and now we its like a switch has been turned on and so has his smile. I carried him all day yesterday as we went round the market stalls and shops in Kadoma and I sat next to him as we ate our big family meal together in the only fast food restaurant in town. Now he never likes to be too far away from me, and always wants to be in my arms as we walk. Its backbreaking work and I don’t know how mums do it, but its worth it. As we walked down the street he was amazed at every car that went past, amazed at every tree. He saw a dog and the look of surprise in his face was priceless. He’s probably never left Tariro’s gates since he arrived and the day out we planned for them all was his first time seeing many a thing I’m sure. He’s a “mute” no longer and all it took was some love and attention. The very least that a child deserves is this, no? It’s heartbreaking to think that something we take for granted is something so allusive to Thomas, Macdaniel and the rest of the children.
Trying, and failing, to avoid the puddles at the market with Thomas in my arms.
This week though, we’ve changed that. With your donations (click here to donate if you haven’t already) we’ve already painted most of their bare concrete walled house for them, the first of the bunk beds, so that they don’t have to sleep huddled together on the concrete floor ever again, will arrive at their home on Tuesday, and yesterday we took them shopping.
Our major reason to come to Africa in the first place was to help underprivileged children get a better education. Now, there is underprivileged, and then there the children of Tariro. They literally have nothing. No bed of their own, no clothes of their own, no choice in anything they eat or do. We, with our friends, families and donor’s help, have given them all of these things. For this, we, and they, thank you.
We’ve spent just about every waking hour with them for the past 4 days. I hope they don’t get bored of us! On Saturday morning, with the help of our neighbour Gemma, her daughter and her friend, we met all 17 of the children in town. We expected them to be a handful, but they were not at all. They were quiet and well behaved. Still a little shy in the outside world.
Meeting the children in their best clothes ready for a day out.
They knew that something was happening, but they didn’t know what. They were dressed in their very “best” clothes. They were perhaps considered to be their best as they were the least dirty and only had minor wear and tear (along with paint splashes) on them. When we started walking towards the school uniform shop, I dreaded the groans that you’d expect a “normal” western child to make upon learning that, yes, we’d be shopping but for school stuff. We all entered the shop and everyone was relatively silent, perhaps not really understanding what was going on. Getting a school uniform isn’t something to get excited about after all, I thought. But when I made it clear that we were going to get them everything that they needed so that they could go to school each and every day, they were hive of activity, all excitedly pointing at this shirt, those shorts and even socks! I’ve never seen anyone get so hyped up about getting new socks! There were 3-4 in each changing booth as they were all so desperate to try on their new uniforms!
Initially we said that we’d just use some of the money to buy them what they were missing, or what they most needed, but in the end we bought every single child a new uniform including socks. At first we didn’t know if we’d just wasted money on items that they already had, but quickly came to the realisation that they’d probably never had a new uniform, and could potentially have been bullied for looking scruffy or with the wrong size because it was a hand me down 3 times over. I remember at my school, the kids with the smartest clothes were not necessarily the coolest kids, but the scruffy ones could never be. They were always looked down upon a little bit because of it. Sad to think thats how it was and kids can be cruel, but remembering that made me realise that these kids would, for the first time ever, be able to walk into school with their heads held high and feel like king of the castle. Giving them that feeling was priceless.
Next up we went to the market. This is a weekly market where all your donated items that you send out with your big international “charity” organisations are sold. Its shit that we ended up buying it rather than having it donated direct, but the end result is that the children all got new clothes that they had chosen themselves. Many bits and pieces were as little as $1 each and we did, to be fair, get a lot for the money. The older children, however, didn’t seem impressed with what was on offer. They were, after all, wearing basically the same kind of quality of stuff as was on the stalls and this was about giving them a choice, not just more of the same disguised as a choice. So I took the older boys, and Nicole took the girls to get something that they really wanted.
Not looking too impressed with what was on offer at this stall. They’d all seen some bling a few stalls back and wanted to return!
Bright reds, striking whites and bold blacks were the order of the day, all mixed with golden zip after golden zip. Nothing they chose was my kind of thing, but this wasn’t a day about anything other than their kind of thing. Our original budget idea went out of the window once it became apparent that you couldn’t get much of the “quality” new items on sale at the market, so each child was given $20 to work with. Each got at least one, now cherished, t-shirt and one pair of bright red or black jeans. Some got 2 t-shirts as they had different tastes, and one boy got a pair of trainers for the first time ever. Big and white like Air Jordans. He tried these whiter than white trainers on as we were surrounded by muddy puddle after muddle puddle. The futility of trying to keep them clean was lost on him as his wide eyes were fixed on them from minute one. I do believe that he’s never had anything to call his own thats quite so satisfying before in his life. This one moment was worth the whole day, but there was more to come. Much more.
One boy was missed out accidentally and I stayed behind to buy him some boots, a new bag and a new t-shirt (all for $20 total!) and as he followed my footsteps through the muddy sludge and water that constitutes a path over here, we talked a little bit. He seems a bright kid, but uncommonly small for a 14 year old. I’d have thought he was only 9-10. He’s been at the orphanage for 5 years but I couldn’t bring myself to ask his circumstances. I didn’t want to remind him of the bad times, when were were trying to show them the good. We did talk about food though. We’d just told everyone that once we were done with shopping we’d go and eat. I asked him what his favourite food was. He said rice. I asked: “What about fried chicken”? His eyes lit up: “Chicken?? Oh yes!”. “What about burgers?” “Burgers?? Yes I love burgers!” It had been so long since they’d eaten anything else that he’d become conditioned to expect rice, at that time of the day, was what was coming next and therefore that was his favourite. Given the choice, however, it very clearly wasn’t! This day was all about giving them that choice.
They’d never eaten in a restaurant before and this was the final thing that we wanted to round their day off with. It seems such a simple thing to you and I that part of any trip into town is accompanied by a bite to eat. I like KFC, but others thing the Big Mac is king. Either way, its nothing out of the ordinary, but these children had only ever been given porridge in the morning, rice in the afternoon and maize (sadza) in the evening. They’d never been to a place like this before and it showed. They didn’t know what to do with themselves and felt a little out of place, but when they realised that they could have anything that they wanted, they didn’t know how to react. Some looked confused at all of the pictures of all the different types of food on offer, one knew exactly what he wanted as soon as he walked in. “Steak Pie and Coke” he just repeated over and over as we ordered. He couldn’t contain his excitement!
Some acted like Billy Ray Valentine in the movie Trading Places (if you haven’t watched it, do… its a great movie), when he struggles to come to terms with the fact that all of the things in his new gifted home were in fact now his. He nods and smiles with them as he pretends to understand that he actually owns everything, as he’s putting items in his pocket. Some didn’t know how to just order what they wanted, and they ordered extra to put into their pockets and in their new bags. Cans of drink, cake and even chicken was ordered with the express purpose to take home with them. They didn’t know when or if their access to this experience would ever stop, so they tried to make it last as long as possible. Its easy to imagine why when you have seen what they have come from. The simple pleasures of a cold fizzy drink through a straw in a restaurant, are a long way from water from a water tank in the garden of a concrete walled orphanage.
The children of Tariro with me, Nicole and our two helpers for the day: Kayla and Steph
Nicole had an emotional day too:
At the restaurant I was sitting with the children and a man came over to me out of the blue. He asked why we were with so many children. He’d seen me with Macdaniel when we arrived and when I sat down with him and everyone else, so I explained that we’re helping these children with donations from all our amazing friends and family and we’ve come to try to make a difference. He said he was very proud that people could come over to help them and that made us both feel happy. Macdaniel and Thomas, the two youngest boys, ate their body weight in food and had massive protruding bellies by the time we left! They where so sweet and kept offering me their chips and cake. It was an amazing feeling to see them all so happy for a change. I gave them my phone for them to take pics of themselves and I said I would print of some of their pics and they can put them up in the newly decorated home. After we’d all eaten, I took some of the little ones to the toilet and while I was waiting a lady that worked there said that she was an orphan too. She said that she used to look forward to the days like these when she was younger and she remembers them so clearly and it’s something that will stay with her for the rest of her life. As soon as we walked in it brought back the memories of her childhood and that the most important feeling was to feel that people cared. I began to feel a little emotional and a warm feeing inside. She also said that she could see how much we cared for these children. Now out of the orphanage, she is in full time employment as well as studying at a college and I was so proud of her. To know that she hadn’t had the best start in life and yet she has dreams and desires that could actually be achieved one day, gave me great hope for all these children of Tariro. Where would they all be in 10-20 years? I hope that we’re making a change in their lives that will last. I think we are.
As we said our goodbyes for the day one of the boys came over to me and said thank you so much for the day. He said he hoped we’d be back again before he left Tariro. He’s 16 and they have to leave the home at 18. Not only will we be back before he leaves, but we’ll see him Monday, I said. He can’t get rid of us that easily! He gave me a hug and said he’d remember us and our day out for ever and that we are great people who are trying to make there lives a little better. As a small token of thanks he handed us both a sweet and I was instantly overwhelmed and emotional.
Like most of the day, I was with Macdaniel at the very end and he was holding me so tight too. I felt the love from him but it was time to say goodbye to these amazing children. They all had huge smiles on their faces and couldn’t thank us enough. We have definitely become a part of this close nit family. It’s a feeling that I can not put into words and I will hold each one of them extremely close to my heart forever.”
By the end of the day, where there were once expressionless faces, now there were smiles and laughter. Where there was lack of hope, now there was a belief that things could get better after all. It doesn’t take much to change someone’s life when they have so little. We spent a good chunk of the money we’ve been donated to make this day happen for them, and my god has it been worth it. It may seem like such a passing and unimportant thing to give a child a choice for the first time, but its that feeling of having control over your own life that has been missing from all of theirs. As we waved them off onto the transport to take them home after a full day of shopping and eating, they ALL waved, they ALL smiled, they ALL gave us a lump in our throats.
We have all have come a long way in the few days since we walked into their home. We’ve grown together and we’ve changed together and I just hope that we can make changes that will last a lifetime in these children, not just for one day.
Day 15 has been a massive day. Monumental really. I’d love to be able to do it justice via the stolen wifi I’ve managed to pick up at 1.30am but it will have to wait until I get online properly to tell the whole tale.
Let’s just say that all the donations came into full effect today and the results were amazing! We’ll tell all as soon as we get proper internet. Thank you everyone and please keep watching out for the proper day Day 15 report when it happens.
In the mean time, if you want to donate and help the amazing children of Tariro Orphanage in Zimbabwe, donate here.
What is more important: watching football or painting the house? Apparently football wins out big time.
We turned up at our usual bright and early time ready to do another coat of paint on the living room, only to be met with the kids having fully cleared their bedrooms all into a big pile in the middle of the rooms, ready for us to paint there instead… talk about giving a hint! Unlike yesterday, though, we were left to start painting on our own as the semi-final of the African Cup Of Nations was in its final 30mins and all the boys were watching it intently.
After Cameroon had won and made their way to the final, I was expecting Rafael (as the oldest boy likes to be called) to join me in painting as he’d been the instigator in doing it yesterday. Instead he disappeared with the wheelbarrow off down the street. I thought nothing of it as one of the other boys had got his own overalls from somewhere and started to help me in his place. He dressed and ready to get to it as soon as the final whistle had blown! Its a shame his painting skills mean that I’ll have to go back over it all again on my own, but the intent to help was there. 😉
Shortly after we’d started on the boys room, Rafael returned with the wheelbarrow overloaded with 2 massive speakers and a stereo system borrowed from a friend to help celebrate Hildar, the house mother’s, birthday. And boy do they know how to let everyone in the town know that they are celebrating! With music booming out at max volume into the garden, and therefore into the neighbours too, there could be no doubt that something was happening. I can only imagine that they’ve never had such a powerful system before and they couldn’t help but see what it could do, and then stick with it once it’d been turned up to 11. So with all the biggest Shona language tunes blaring out and beating a repetitive bouncing bass line into my ears, we smashed out two bedrooms in quick time. It’s without a doubt the worst paint job I’ve ever had the misfortune to be involved in but the kids that helped out seemed to have fun doing it. I just hope that we can get them all in school on Monday so that I can get in there and do it properly myself!
All the while, Nicole had promised to cook pasta for everyone, seeing as pasta is seen as something very extravagant by the children. Its the kind of thing that posh white people ate, not by them or anyone that they knew. So, with all the best of intentions, pasta and ingredients to make the sauce were purchased along with the birthday cake first thing that morning. To say that we’d not fully realised how badly equipped the kitchen was before coming up with this amazing plan, would be an understatement. We’d not accounted for the fact that they’d be no sieve or colander for starters. Anyone who has made pasta without straining it first will be fully aware that it leaves it all sloppy and slavered in starchy slim. This, it would turn out, would be our specially cooked meal designed to impress and even we were barely able to eat it. How embarrassing.
A super basic African kitchen couldn’t cope with making pasta…
The only knife, borrowed from the neighbours, was blunt like a butter knife. They deserve an award being able to cook meals for 16 kids here 3 times a day.
I was able to capture a few moments where it appeared that Macdaniel was enjoying his food, but the inability for children to hide their true feelings in their faces told a different story the rest of the time.
“It was very delicious” Hildar said politely.
“It really wasn’t. I’m so sorry.” replied Nicole.
Nicole has been constantly reliving the kitchen nightmare all day:
“Tomato
Pasta
Garlic
Onions
Peppers
These basic ingredients seem like average every day items on a shopping list. I was hoping to put together an amazing meal and anyone that cooks knows that a little bit more of this and a little less of that makes all the difference. Well, it would if I had something to chop with, more than just a single malfunctioning hob and any utensils at all to use in the kitchen. I’d overestimated what could constitute a kitchen that had to provide food for 16 children 3 times a day!
I attempted to make pasta, but how do you drain pasta without a strainer? Cooking for 16 people turned into my worst nightmare. I had to chop garlic with my finger nails , and tomatoes crushed in my hands . I don’t cook often but when I do, I always cook pasta. At home its cheap, simple and tasty. Today it was the hardest meal to make, ever. Without a sink in the kitchen it was impossible to rinse the starch off and the pasta was left in its own water and turned to mush. I felt so bad, and so stressed. I really wanted it to be an nice meal for Hilder the birthday girl. I wanted to show her that using the same ingredients that she uses everyday for their own food, it could taste so different and special. She served me a portion and I my heart sank. I knew that it really didn’t look nice at all. I said to her I’m so sorry it wasn’t what you expected and that I’d get her proper equipment for the kitchen so that she could have her life easier. Its hard enough cooking for a few people, let alone 16! It took 2 1/2 hours to make and I was left disappointed.
Thank god we brought a cake and some fizzy pop to make up for my slop!
It’s safe to say it’s difficult to live without your family but these kids have become each other’s family and they all made it a special day for Hilder.”
Still, the most important thing seemed to be that music needed to be at full volume and that seemed to be enough for everyone except the toddlers who were definitely out of sorts after being deprived of their afternoon naps.
Trying to catch some ZZZZZ’s while the music is pumping.
On a plus note, the first triple bunkbed is completely finished and now sitting waiting for our first batch of mattresses which will arrive Monday. We’ll deliver the first one to the kids on Tuesday most likely, and then pull the trigger on the rest after our trip to Harare for raw materials as its much cheaper there and we’ll save some of your donated money by doing it that way.
Finally, after all our talk of it, we’ll be going to the market to get the kids their own clothes tomorrow. They’ve never done anything like it before, so we’ll have to see what they pick. So, if you donated €10, for example, that will clothe one child with at least 3-4 different items. Of course, as stated in day 2, all of the items at the market will be what people all around the world have donated to charity, then that said charity sends some of it to Zimbabwe, and then the people in charge of receiving it take all the best stuff for themselves and then the rest is sold to market traders and the money is pocketed. None of your clothes that you donate to the big charities make their way to those that most need it, certainly not in this country anyway. (This is all the local “word on the street” so I don’t have empirical evidence of all this, but its generally understood to be true here in the community.)
Everyone dances while we take care of the youngest ones.
Its been an amazingly long few days, and we are both shattered. We’ve been tired and ratty with each other but it has been worth it. After spending 3 whole days with the kids, we can see the difference that we are making to their lives. Someone is taking an interest in them. Someone is working with them towards a common goal. Someone is playing games with them and making them laugh rather than all of these things happening amongst themselves. Its the little things like that that make you realise the difference that can be made in a child’s life just by paying them some attention.
We are not parents yet, but having seen Nicole with the children these last few days I know she’s going to make a great mum. Spending time with the forgotten children of Tariro has shown me a glimpse of our own future and I hope that future will forever feature them too. We’ve invested our time and our hearts and even if everyone else forgets them, we certainly won’t.
When asked for the first time (ever) what colour you would like your house to be painted, what do you think the answer is? My personal preference, or idea, would have been for yellow. Summery, bright and warm, yet neutral enough to please everyone. I’d had it as the colour for my living room many years ago when I lived in Nottingham and I really liked it.
So yellow perhaps? Nicole wasn’t so sure, so we asked the children. Blue was the resounding choice. In fact it was unanimous. A little deflated that my option wasnt chosen but all the same happy that democracy had spoken for the first time in a while, we went off to buy the paint. But all of this is jumping the gun a little bit… That was today, and this has been a very very long 2 days of prepping and painting indeed.
It’s great when you see a local community pull together in a crisis. Word has certainly spread as to what it is we are dealing with at Tariro Orphanage and the locals have been helping out left right and centre. A chance meeting at the Rugby in Harare on Saturday with a couple living only one street away from where we have been calling home these last two weeks, and suddenly we have our lifesaving lift from Eiffel Flats (its a village, not high rise block) to Rimuka for the past two mornings at a fresh 7am every morning. Not to mention the lift back at 5pm when we are done, numerous bits of ferrying around here there and every where and even some steel we’ll be using in the next batch of bunkbeds! We’ve also received some free paint brushes and rollers from a local merchant as he knew we were there to help the community. 🙂
Loaded up with paint and some free steel to make more bunkbed bases with, all courtesy of our new friend John.On day 12, after a visit to see how the tweaks were going with the bunkbeds, we went in all guns blazing expecting it to be plain sailing and realise quite quickly that the building is rotten with rising damp. What we thought were stains owing to over use by 16 dirty fingers children, was in fact the result of band workmanship when the house was originally built. As soon I as started to clear away some of the loose plaster (on the only part of he house that has any, the rest is bare concrete) I knew we’d be in for a tough day. Proper damp courses take time and money and although we have your donations, and we are here for another 5 weeks, there are better things that we can be spending that money on. After all, these kids could be moving on to pastures new shortly… No one is really sure as this is the kids 3rd home after being evicted from their previous two.
Local welders prove to us that their work will be sturdy enough to hold the weight of a child.
So, after scraping and brushing, brushing and scraping for an entire morning, we were just about as close to a surface that could cope to be painted as we could get. I’m not entirely sure how long it will last, but we’d at least started. An entire 10 hour day was spent and what we’d been left with was a patchy, white (ish) uneven living room. I’d loved to have been able to take a photo of it all and for it to look impressive, but frankly I felt like we’d done so much work for so little visible reward. I was a knackered and a bit gutted if I’m honest. I did, however, understand that this was just the undercoat and the big changes were to take until the end of today. I just had to constantly remind myself that as we sat back at 4.55pm to observe our days work.
Before…
The children were on usual top form that day, wanting constant attention and we tried our best to give it to them all the while attempting to get their living space looking top notch. I had considered asking the older boys if they’d be interested in earning a few extra $ or just to help out as we’d come to help them out but I decided in the end that I’d want to show them what we were about by doing it ourselves and see what happened. The change in them was small at first and then bigger and more obvious and it was very interesting to watch.
Day 12 started with just me and Nicole doing our previously explained scrape and brushathon all morning, but then there started to be a bit of a buzz around the place in the afternoon. Not in the living room where we were, but in the other rooms. As if inspired by our all action, not just talk, approach they’d taken it upon themselves to give the entire house a spring clean. I have to admit that this made me feel really proud for them to have taken the initiative on that. Its as if they’d thought to themselves: “Well, if they have seen something in us to make our place look nice, we should take pride in it ourselves too”.
The kitchen, both bedrooms, the hall… everything got a once over. Sat there with your Dyson in the cupboard, various sprays, mops, cloths and brushes here there and everywhere I’m sure you’re thinking: “Big deal, they cleaned the house”. But this is virtually leaderless, parentless group of children with no running water, no mop, not even a dust pan and brush let alone a vacuum, that decided to clean their own house and they own rooms with their bare hands and a with only a collection of sticks bound together as a makeshift brush. We’d purposefully stood back and let them do their own thing just to see what they’d do. If this was a test, they’d have easily passed. I was hoping that they’d react, and they did. Its nothing compared to what happened on Day 13, but we’ll come to that.
As our day drew to a close, we had a few moments of downtime and Nicole spend those minutes playing with the youngest children, reading books and teaching them to count in english. Whatever she did that afternoon stuck as the next day even Macdaniel, at less than 2 years old, could count to 5 in english when he didn’t have the foggiest the day before. This is the thing with these kids. There is so much untapped potential that in another world, or another time, Macdaniel could be getting a scholarship to university in 16 years time, but in this one we are just trying our hardest to get him enough food to eat. Its a sad state to be in and its upsetting to think that they could have a wasted education through lack of funds, or being more concerned with where the next meal is coming from to even think about school properly. This, however, is exactly why we came here in the first place; to help those who cannot help themselves, and to give opportunities in life that otherwise simply would not be available.
While Nicole did her thing with the books and the toddlers I was invited to play football with the older kids. My initiation into the family was now complete. As any boy will tell you, once you are asked to play, you are sorted. Its the kids that sit on the sidelines and never get invited that feel left out and not one of the gang, so I was made up to be asked to play. To you and I, football means jumpers for goal posts, someone brings a ball and then you play one team against another in whatever team seems the fairest at the time. In Zimbabwe with 3 boys of various ages having to play on some dirt covered in stones behind the locked gate of an orphanage with a deflated ball, however, it meant piggy in the middle. For those that don’t know, this means 3 guys have to keep control of the ball between themselves while the 4th person is in the middle and has to try and get the ball. I’d love to say that I did England/Ibiza proud but in the end I just took my fair share of the time in the middle, but the difference it made to these kids to have someone play with them like this, rather than just amongst themselves, was phenomenal. High fives, laughter, smiles, winks and nods were thrown around between us all and I’d finally been accepted. Perhaps that football family moment has something to do with what happened the next day…
So, the next day, we were again up bright an early and dying to get some colour onto the walls so that it would look different, rather than just a cleaner version of what it did. We were hoping that we’d have the house more or less to ourselves, but the school fee’s haven’t been sorted yet, so there was the strange sight of seeing school children coming back from school at 9am. Sent home because they needed to pay $10 or the school wouldn’t allow them into class.
It feels like some sort of sick joke. Its a $10 fee for the school bus, when some of the children walk to school in the first place! Denying an education from a child until they pay for something they are not even using seems like daylight robbery to me, but all the same your donations will pay for this and every child of school age WILL be going to school on Monday. All fee’s, all uniforms, all school shoes and even rain macs WILL be paid and purchased for every child and then there can be no excuses.
So, at 9am, most of the kids started coming home from school and we were both thinking that it just made our work all the harder having to work around the children when we’d hoped for a clear run to try and get the room finished. This is when the piggy in the middle, and horrendous toe stubbing, bonding session came into play. The oldest boy came in and explained to us about the school bus fee and thats why he’d not been allowed into classes that day despite being there on time and fully dressed in all the required uniform. Rather than turn around and go and play with his brothers, he said he wanted to help. We were a little taken aback at first, we didn’t have overalls for him as such, but Nicole took the decision to allow him to use hers. Suddenly we had an extra pair of willing hands and we were flying through the painting! Before long, painting with us became what everyone wanted to do. We didn’t have enough brushes, rollers or overalls to go around, but they didn’t care. They took it in turns to help, and two particular boys helped pretty much all day after that. We were able to get the hallway done in one day and they’d all seen how we work and taken it on board and joined in themselves. We felt like proud parents yet again!
When it came time to decide the colour we asked the kids to pick a colour. Blue, and dark blue at that was the colour of choice.
“Dark blue will be too dark, and will make it feel really dingy and sad in here”. Nicole tried to explain.
“We want it dark”.
“We’ll get a light blue so it opens up the room and if you don’t like it, we’ll see about a darker blue”.
“OK”.
With a compromise in place (knowing full well that a dark coloured wall would have looked awful) we finally started to change their surroundings. We’ll need another coat tomorrow to attempt to cover the stains that seep through because of the damp, but its basically done for the living room and hall other than that. Next step is the kitchen and the house mother’s 25th Birthday. We’ve got her, by way of our more than helpful neighbours John & Jackie, some earrings and a necklace. We’re sure she’ll love them!
On day 12, Nicole had to rush off to a meeting with the board of directors for Robin Hood Pre-School which we visited on Day 5. We’re trying to help as many places as we can, and they are one of them. Having running water seems like such a basic need, but its not one that is guaranteed here in Zimbabwe and we’re trying to change that for as many kids as possible. We’ll also invest in some better reading books for the children, and perhaps some mats so that the youngest ones can take in well earned naps and be comfortable doing it. Also in the meeting was what seems like an excellent contact to have and an excellent councillor for Rimuka (where the orphanage is) by the name of Exton. Nicole invited him back to the house and we immediately pressed to him the urgency of needing the septic tank emptied. These 16 kids had been without running water or the ability to even flush the toilet for over 2 weeks. He promised he’d have the tank emptied as soon as possible, and we believed him. It felt nice to have that belief pay off as mid afternoon, today day 13, the lorry pulled up and the workers got to work. Finally the septic tank was empty and finally they could use the toilet! Time for celebrations and pats on the back all round, no?
Finally its here!!Unfortunately not. It hadn’t been emptied in so long and the system was therefore so backed up that now there was a blockage in the pipes and is still no way to flush the toilet with nowhere that waste and water will go other than into the house. Gutted. A quick call to Exton and he promises that he’ll do what he can to get them to clear it as soon as possible. Again, I believe him so I hope to report back to you all about it as soon as possible. It was, after all, number one on our list of things to do. No child should be forced to live like an animal without toilet facilities. You let your dog out in the garden for a wee, yeah, but you’d still not be happy to see it lay a dump in your garden so why should it be ok to expect that a child should have to do it. We’re on this though, so watch this space.
Nicole has had a super busy few days too:
“As always as soon as the rock hits the steel gate (this is their only “doorbell”) Macdaniel comes running out and screams with excitement. He then hugs my legs and the other little ones come over for hugs too. Little Macdaniel gets so jealous though, with the cutest scrunched up face and disappointed look that anyone else has got a hug instead of him.
Working with paint and being surrounded by children it was a little hard to keep the kids from wanting to play finger paints. Eventually they were interested in what we were doing but also a little confused. I don’t think they had ever seen anyone paint a wall before! We brought some sweets this time and they where all so humble in accepting anything. These kids have had a hard life and they still have such amazing manners and with such big hearts. On day 13 I was chatting to girl who was just visiting the house to see her friends. She’s 14 years old and she was asking me tons of questions; like where am I from, what food I liked, what do I normally eat. She also asked if I had ever eaten Sadza (a ground starchy maize substance that they eat over here every day). I replied ‘yes’ to her amazement. I explained to her what we’re doing here and her response was that she’d never seen any women painting before and that I’m very different to any girl she had met in her life. She just seemed so curious about everything I had to say. I’m not sure she’d ever really met a white European before and thought that eating pasta was extravagant! We’ll be cooking them pasta tomorrow on the gas stove as a birthday meal for Hilda, the house mother, and they can then all see that pasta is as common to us as Sadza is to them!”
And so ends today, and for that matter yesterdays, blog. Its been a hectic few days and there has been more paint splashed on the floors that I’d have liked, but its been great fun. We’ve really been accepted as one of their own now, and have been invited to eat with them too. Its a honour to be there with them each day and its an honour that, even if its once in my life, I’ve had the opportunity to do something like this in the first place. Zimbabwe is changing me, just as its changing Nicole and we’ll never be able to see the world through the same eyes ever again, and for us thats a great thing.
If you want to help us to build a better life for these children, there is still time to get involved. Donate now by clicking here. ALL money goes directly to helping these kids and we are here doing the work ourselves freely and willingly. Your donations can, and will, change these kids lives forever. Thank you everyone!
This was the moment of truth. Had we just wasted $200 of hard earned (and then donated) funds on a piece of scrap metal that wouldn’t look out of place in a modern art exhibition or had we just spent wisely in getting the first of many beds for a group of deserving orphaned children?
This is what a prototype steel framed triple bunkbed looks like. All from a design I made on a scrap of paper with a dodgy pencil.I’m glad to say it was the latter. Still at the prototype stage, we are really happy with how they look so far. A few tweaks here and there and an extra rod of steel that we’d not supplied yesterday, and we’ll be away. This is the first of a batch of 6 (to sleep 18 in total) but the children still have no idea about them at all! We can’t wait to see their faces when they are able to get into their own bed for the first, and up until now the only, time. We’ll try to get a video of that moment so that you can all share in it.
I inspect their handy work.Today we also met with all the trustee’s of Tariro and we went through our huge list that I wrote about in day 7. All were warmly welcomed and it was nice to see that many of our ideas were very different to their own as we’d looked at the building with fresh eyes and a fresh approach. We all agreed that the day out that we have planned for the children (on Saturday) was a great idea. Giving them, for the first time ever, a choice in what they can wear, what they can eat and even buying them for themselves for the first ever time seemed like such an obvious thing to do to us, but fully understand that the volunteer team at the orphanage have been concerned more in where the next meal is coming from. We also agreed to fund training for the house mother. A matron will come in for one week and work with her, taking care of the children, teaching her how to do it properly, get the children to make their beds (when they finally have one), tidy up, help with the washing. You know, usual stuff that parents make their kids do to make sure they understand how to take care of themselves as much as she will learn how to take care of them too.
The kids love selfie time. They love to see their faces on the screen!We paid a visit to see the kids again today and its like every day they are getting brighter and happier to see us, running to the gates to meet us. We’d not been able to get the sweets that we’d promised yesterday, but they didn’t care, they were just happy to see us. We are gradually building more and more of a rapport with the older children too, as they come to realise that we are here for while and we are going to help. I’m sure after they see their new beds and wear their new clothes and eat whatever food they like and know its down to all of our donors out there, then we will be like one of the family.
Today the little boy who offered me his toy car on the first day, Ngonidzashe, followed me around the house for the entire time that we were there. He asked to be picked up half a dozen times and loved to be tickled. When I say loved it, I cannot imagine anything else that he could possibly like more! Normally when I have a young child in my arms and I’m trying to make them laugh, I pretend, for a tiny split second, to drop them and then stop them from falling instantly. Or I hold onto their waist and bend them back so they are almost touching the floor with their hands whilst still having their legs round my stomach. This always gets a great reaction. Until today that is. I’m not sure what has gone on in Ngonidzashe’s life before today, but the slightest move to put him down, or do any of my normally amazingly funny (to a 2 year old) move’s only resulted in him moaning for me to stop. It’s a deep moan that is instantly recognisable and I can only imagine that he hasn’t had the best of lives before coming to the orphanage.
I don’t want to imagine it, but unfortunately I can.
When he finally allowed me to put him down, we all played chase and they took turns to be tickled by me. Normally its Nicole doing the playing as I talk to someone or other about the children’s needs, or do measurements, or look at the facilities and take notes, but today they seemed to really get me involved too. I’d been welcomed into the close nit family that had already included Nicole since the day we arrived. That was a great feeling, even if it did mean that I was covered in snot for a while. 🙂
We did have a ton of photos from today, but for whatever reason some of them went missing when we went to look for them on Nicole’s phone, so the ones included are the only surviving ones…
Waving us good bye. We’ll be back tomorrow!And with that, we were on our way with a promise to return tomorrow with paint to give their living room some life for the first time ever. We’ll try to see if we can be done in one day, and we’ll be up at 6am to try and put that into practice. We’ll be sure to take tons of photos of the before and after so that you can see for yourselves too. If you want to help, please donate here.
We are still feeling a little overwhelmed by the incredible responses that we’ve had to our work over here, but today is the day that we are starting in earnest to make all our plans come together. We have been able to do all of this because of around 150 donors. Some could only afford €5, and the largest donation was €700, with a ton of different amounts in between. Fundraising has taken over mine and Nicole’s Facebook pages and I’ve almost forgotten what it feels like to hassle people to come to a nightclub or a bar or boat party. I’m sure when March comes around, and we get back to Ibiza, I’ll have to put my work head back on and get back to it, until then this is work, this is our focus.
So, today we were up bright and early to be picked up my our new best friend/driver Laury. He has an amazing infectious laugh, 3 kids he doesn’t know the ages of (that’s their mothers “thing” apparently), but is proud to say they are called “Godknows” “Prince” and “Richmond”. We particularly liked Godknows as that would be hours of fun after a few beers or the local drink of choice, Super Chibuku. With roads being as they are, and old cars being as they are over here, we were delayed somewhat by a breakdown. Our 2nd since the weekend after a blowout on the main road to Harare on Saturday. We finally got on our way around 1pm and headed straight for the Orphanage. This would be our first visit since that grim day described in Day 6.
Today, however, everything felt a little different. Everything has started to progress a little. The sun was out, and the streets were dry for a change. It was as if today was destined to be a positive one and we’d try our best to make sure that it was.
As soon as we pulled up to the house, some of the smaller children ran out to meet us. Including, yes, you guessed it, Macdaniel. I think they all just like to see what the noises are outside the house and come running, but as soon as he recognised Nicole his smile beamed from ear to ear and he gave her a massive hug. I think he’s found a new best friend.
Reunited with MacdanielUpon entering the house the throat choking, lung filling, open fire in the kitchen was no more and replaced by a gas stove. Far from ideal and still on the floor, but its a step up from cooking with damp wood in the corner. We’ll look to see if we can make this a little better by actually having a real gas stove rather than what looks like a travel, table top one.
A gas cooker replaces the open fire we saw last time.One thing became even more noticeable to me this time around though. The flies. I saw them on my last visit, but perhaps I was so blinded by the plight of the children that I didn’t really understand the sheer quantity of them that seemed to cover everything. The kitchen, in particular, was a hot spot for them. As I took some measurements of each room so that I could paint later in the week, I needed to use the table that is used to prepare all their food and knocked some pans as I did it. All of a sudden, the room was filled with a swarm of flies coming out of every imaginable container, behind the table and from around the food. Anyone who knows me, knows I love a good swat of a fly, but this was ridiculous… It’d be impossible to make a dent! I know that the internet is awash with images of helpless African children with flies crawling everywhere, but I’d never really seen that many in one place before today and it totally shocked me. I think what is needed is proper kitchen storage, proper understanding of food preparation and proper cleaning is essential to stop food contamination and to curb the fly infestation. I sense a job for our very own clean freak Nicole!
Play time with Nicole!
Who’s tongue is longer competition…
Today we learned that some of the boys were still off from school because they owed another $10 each to the school to cover some fee or another. This meant that they were away from all forms of education as they simply cannot afford it and getting any meal at all is more of a priority to these kids than school is at the moment. We’ll look to speak with the schools of each child and really see if we can make sure that none ever have to stay home simply because they can’t afford the fee’s to go. Those reading this of school age might think its amazing that they get to stay home, but everyone else will understand that there is only one chance for these kids to get an education to encourage their ever expanding minds and give them something to build a life for their own on. Imagine $10 being the difference between getting an education that will last a lifetime, or not. Its crazy to think thats how it is over here, but it is. If you’d like to donate and help, click here.
All smiles posing for selfies and seeing his face in the screen.The older boys, those that were not at school anyway, took far more of an interest in us this time around. I wouldn’t say that it was the warmest of welcomes, but one in particular was very happy to help me measure each room and each window so that we could paint and put up curtains. He told me that he liked football and would love a Barcelona F.C. poster for his bedroom. Currently its untreated concrete.
The others looked on inquisitively as we measured the height of the ceiling too (well, I say ceiling, its all open beams with glimpses of daylight coming in too as this house is more of a squat than a home). Little do they know that the reason for this was that we’d spent the day sourcing materials so that we can get bunk beds made for them. We want it to be a surprise for them and one that will hopefully blow their minds! They’ve never had a bed to call their own since before their parents died, or were abandoned, and even then maybe they never felt the comfort of their OWN bed. Today we took the first steps to giving them that. Materials and labour will total to around $200 per triple bunk bed, or $66 per child. We think thats a small amount to give them something they have never had before. If you want to help by donating towards these beds, click here. We’ve started with one, and they reckon that we’ll have it ready within days! I will post pictures of their handy work then, but I’ll be proper gutted if its absolute shite as every penny is precious and I hope not to have wasted any on these beds.
Cutting the steel to the correct size to make bunkbeds with.
Nicole looking on and ‘project managing’ everyone else. 😉
Steel arrives at the local welders to make a go of the bunk beds. We’ll see tomorrow how they have gotten on.
Whilst taking measurements today, I went to every room and saw everything with new eyes. The walls with cracks in as big as your hand, bare concrete, no ceiling, dirty bedding and dust and dirt everywhere. In one bedroom I saw a baby with a towel in place of a nappy, left alone crying on a double bed as the “house mother” tried to cook food for the other 10 children. Her cries stopped as I walked through the door and she looked at me curiously, and carried on wailing the moment I left. What these children need more than anything is love and attention. If only someone could take these children into their homes and call them their own. Its desperately sad to think that this may never happen.
Tears stopped momentarily as she contemplates who on earth we are and what are doing there!With measurements written down ready to by paint tomorrow, steel bought, welder in action as we speak and a meeting set up with the trustees for tomorrow we’ve had a productive day today. We also found time to message each and every donor to thank them for their efforts and to promise them that we’ll not let them down.We’ll do all we can in our power to not let down these kids, not let you guys reading this down, not let down our friends and family and not let ourselves down either. We’ve come to make a difference though, and feel like that has begun today.
Nicole: “Getting out the car today I had mixed emotions. I was wondering if Macdaniel would remember us or react completely different to our arrival this time around. As soon as he came outside he came straight over to me arms out with a big smile on his face and my heart just melted just as before . We went inside and the other children were excited to see us. They all had smiles on their faces and it was more like they realised we wern’t just one time visitors. I was playing chase with the two smallest boys and the little giggles from them was just so overwhelming. As Nathan was measuring up the rooms for the painting, I went outside and spoke to one of the younger girls. This is when I noticed how they were using the concrete wall to dry their clothes. I asked if putting a washing line up would make the washing alot easier and she replied it would be amazing and thanked me. What may seem like a simple and small change to their day to day lives will result in big changes long term. All too quickly our time had came to an end and it was time to say goodbye yet again and my heart sunk. Little Macdaniel waved and said goodbye whilst looking down at the floor. We said we’d bring sweets next time we come and he sat on the step watching us as we drove away ”
Would he remember us? Of course he did!
A washing line or clothes dryer would make all the difference.
Well, its one way to dry your clothes…
Its going to be a long journey, and it will never truly be finished, but with your help, we’ll leave these children in a much better situation than when we arrived.
What we witnessed today has simply been heartbreaking. Its not too often that I’ve been rendered speechless but here I was. I’ll do my best to put that speechlessness all into words here I’m sure, but at the time I’m feeling a mixture of shock and sorrow that has left me tearful, I’m not afraid to admit.
Today we visited a Zimbabwe orphanage.
Forget what you know. Forget what even you think you know about orphanages. There are no nuns ruling the roost with a firm but caring hand. There are no precocious ginger haired girls breaking into song every 5mins. There are certainly no adoptive parents queuing up to take a child home, let alone foster parents. This felt more like a dumping ground for those who had no one left to care for them. They are a combination of HIV/AIDS orphans, abandoned street children and those who’s mothers died before they had even left hospital after giving birth.
What does all of that actually mean though? What exactly is a HIV/AIDS orphan? Well, its not pretty, let me tell you. AIDS was all over the news in the 80’s, everyone was talking about it, you couldn’t turn on the TV without hearing about it, but since then its that thing that those with a crude sense of humour, myself included, have used as some sort of joke.
“I’ve had a sore throat for a few days, what do you reckon it is?”
“It’s probably AIDS mate.”
Writing that now, though, doesn’t make me smile, let alone laugh. This isn’t a joke anymore, if it ever should have been.
So imagine you and/or your wife/husband have somehow contracted HIV/AIDS… I know you’ll have to really use your imagination as its not something we in the western world think about, but here it is a reality. Its at epidemic levels and a good reason why the life expectancy is so low (58 years). So imagine you are married, and now imagine that society states that you are not a real woman until you have given birth, you are not complete unless you are a mother. What do you do about that? Your natural urges and social norms force you to have a child. In doing so you both contract HIV/AIDS and you can’t afford treatment. That child somehow makes it through to full term and is born disease free, but you, as parents, are not long for this world. You both die within days, weeks, months or even years of each other, but you die nonetheless. Your child is now alone, and again society states that they cannot be adopted either. Local superstitions preach that you can’t take someone else’s child as their parents spirits will follow you. So, that child that was likely with their parent as they drew their final breath in hospital, is then left there, with no one to take care of them. No aunt or uncle, no friendly strangers, no rich couple to come and make you a princess like in the movies.
What does it mean to be an abandoned child then? Well, you know you see the adverts in the months leading up to holidays that says “A Dog Is For Life Not Just For Christmas”? We all know and understand that, right? Yet every year the papers report kittens in rivers, dogs tied to lampposts and left, pets of all manners left here there and everywhere as their owners didn’t want them anymore. Here in Zimbabwe, this happens to children too. The reasons are obviously far more complex than simply not being wanted anymore, but for whatever reason a number of these children were taken somewhere, far from their homes and left to fend for themselves. Some so young that they couldn’t, even with all the luck in the world on their sides, have hoped to last a night, let alone live a life worth living.
You are alone in the world and then you are sent here:
Poverty is an obvious likely culprit, but one child we met today was living happily with his father and his new wife. His father sadly died, as do so many when they have so little, and within days his stepmother moved home without telling him where they were going. He was left to fend for himself and ended up one of 16 such children in this 3 bedroom house acting as the only orphanage in the area for miles around.
Children’s shoes left out in the rain and now no longer fit for use.
Far from being in an orphanage like in the movies, though, this felt like a house of horror.
We had arranged to meet Mrs Magama at 8.30am through a connection who’d also put us in touch with the 3 school’s we’ve already visited. She’s been looking after these children since 2008 almost single handedly and seemed an incredibly compassionate and kind woman. She is clearly overwhelmed by the enormity of her task as a VOLUNTEER, but trying her best all the same. She gets nothing from the state, no earnings from the children and yet has a full time job and an orphanage to run too. She’s as close to a saint as you can find in these parts.
Taking a taxi through the township to meet her we stuck out as the the only white people for miles around but the pouring rain was enough to take much of the attention away from us, and on to trying to stay dry and avoiding puddles the size of small ponds. Upon arrival we were warmly welcomed and brought into the house and thats when the understanding of the sheer poverty hit us. There was an open fire in the corner of the kitchen where one of the orphaned girls was warming up porridge for the rest of the children. The battered pots rested on a piece of cast iron over the smouldering ends of three tree branches that were being used to fuel the only cooking facilities in the house. In turn, this was also the only heating they had. The smoke and fumes filled our lungs and we were informed that although they had an electric oven, the fuses couldn’t cope with it and even if it did, they couldn’t afford the bills anyway, so this was how they cooked each and every day.
The electric oven stood useless as porridge was made over an open fire. They can’t afford the bills anyway, so the old donated oven currently serves no purpose.
We knew that today might be a tough one, but when we turned the corner into the living room, it got a million times tougher. The youngest children ran straight for us desperate for some attention. The older children understandably were more standoffish. They had clearly been trained to come and say hello and shake our hands but they seemed to have that “million mile stare” that you hear about with war veterans. They’d seen too much, seen too many people stood exactly where we were, saying the same things as we were saying. People would always come and go and their lives never changed too much. If I were in their position I’d probably be the same, but despite having an active imagination I simply can’t get my head around being there in their place, stood their bare footed, wearing 3rd hand clothes and never knowing what love felt like.
Many of the children had no shoes, all wore dirty clothes that must have been donated from someone, at sometime in the distant past. The furniture they sat on was all donated and aside from already being ready for the tip, all seemed to have an unhealthy number of flies overing around them. Their library was an unruly pile of donated books in a corner, their only other entertainment was an old 14″ tv playing the only channel they had. A filthy rug in the middle of the room acted as further seating for when all the other chairs were taken.
With no storage, this is how a “library” looks after 16 children have been at it.
Whilst talking to their main benefactor, and the only reason these children are not dead or at best living on the streets, one of the smallest children, Ngonidzashe, handed me a single wooden “car” that he wanted me to play with him. A curious 4 year old, he must have thought I was the most interesting thing to happen to him that week, but the look in his face as he smiled at me and offered me his favourite toy broke my heart.
Ngonidzashe, Macdaniel & Hamilton. The wooden car offered to me earlier can be seen in next to Macdaniel’s foot.
We looked around the rooms and found that although there were 3 bedrooms, there was only 1 actual bed. The “house mother” slept there with the youngest babies (9months, 1 & 2), the other 13 children shared the remaining 6 blankets on the floor. Mattresses are too often soiled and don’t last longer than a few months. Many children suffer from nightmares in the night and soil themselves, others have never properly learned how to control their bladders in the first place, the rest are just babies who should still be living in nappies but have none.
This is the room that the older boys shared all together. All 9 of them somehow fit into these 4 beds.
This is the 2 girls room that they share with the 2 smallest boys.
The rest of the tour of the house brought us to the bathroom and toilet facilities and we discovered that although they had a toilet, they couldn’t use it as the septic tank hadn’t been emptied by the council and was weeks overdue, and now they simply had to use the garden bushes for 1’s and 2’s. Despite all my travels, all my expeditions, all my dehli-belly from eating spicy food and all the times I’ve almost been caught short, I’ve always made it to a toilet. I’ve never had to shit in a bush and I’d hope to think that not many of you have either. To think that its a way of life though, that was horrible.
We are going to do all that we can to help make their lives a little brighter, a little better. They survive entirely on donations and this is exactly the kind of thing that we came to try and help with. If you want to help us to help them, you can donate here.
These are the residents of Tariro Orphanage long with Mrs Magama and her driver, and of course Nicole at the back with Macdaniel in her arms.
I’d also like to plea to anyone who knows anything about international adoption agencies to get in touch as I’d love to see if we could help some of these children even if Zimbabwean’s cannot. I have no idea about anything of this nature but figure that there might be someone out there reading this that help with a bit of advice at least.
Nicole also had a life changing experience with one of the little boys today:
“As soon as we pulled up to the orphanage my heart sank. As soon as we entered the living room this little boy by the name of Macdaniel, barely one year old, came running over to me with arms wide open with a big smile on his face to say hello. So, I picked him up and instantly he wrapped his legs around me and cuddled me. I was so overcome with emotion that I wanted to cry. To think that this little boy that had been abandoned by his mother still had so much love to give, broke my heart. He almost fell asleep on me so I was about to put him down and look at the rest of house, but he gripped me even harder. In the end we sat and held each other a little longer. He was so content and so calm.
Nicole and Macdaniel moments after arriving. He just wouldn’t let go.
Macdaniel loved the attention he was getting. The most love he’d probably had in a while.
It was heart breaking to look around at the other older children and you could see in there eyes that they are so used to people coming and going so they just said hello and continued to sit and interact with each other. I must of sat and held Macdaneil for at least an hour and he didn’t seem to want to move.
Playtime with the kids.
Trying to taste the food in the pictures.
I went over with Macdaniel to where the other younger kids were playing with some torn up books. They were licking the pictures of all the exotic food in the books that they had in front of them that they had seen, but never tasted. Their daily meals were rice, porridge and ground up maize. We sat and started looking at the books together and I asked them what the picture was (it was a frog) and they seemed a little unsure, so I made the sound of a frog and they laughed. I then began tickling and playing chase with them and any interaction with them seemed to light them up as they must have so little love and attention in their lives. Macdaneil then wanted another hug and as we did I found it so hard to imagine giving birth and leaving your child at the side of the road to be found. As our visit came to an end we said thank you to all the children and Macdaneil came outside with us. He had no shoes on and his little face was so sad at the thought that we were leaving. Nathan went to shake his little hand to say goodbye and he put his other hand in his as if to hold hands to walk out of gate and to a new life. With that we were almost in tears.
It was the hardest thing to have to leave this child behind and we can’t wait to go back and see them again.”
As Macdaniel put his hand in mine I must admit I started to fill up. I had received handshakes from everyone of the children on the way in, so assumed that it would only be polite to shake his hand again. I didn’t expect for a moment that he’d think to put his hand in mine thinking that he was leaving with us. I didn’t expect that he’d affect me so much. Just like Zimbabwe as a whole, Macdaniel and the feelings he gave me were surprising and saddening in equal measure. We’ll be returning to Tariro Orphanage sometime next week and starting to help out wherever we can and it’ll feature on another blog then too. Until then, I do hope that you made it through to the end of this blog and I am sorry that its been a long one, but I couldn’t begin to describe today in fewer words than I have. Please share if you feel this story has touched you as it touched us.
OurManInZimbabwe 