Signing off from Africa

The story below was written by Chris Ashworth from England, at the end of a period of volunteering in South Africa. He writes about what he saw in South Africa and how it changed his life.

The Blog and the website isn't just here to keep everyone updated on our travels, it's a journal to store our thoughts and feelings on, a place to record things for our own purposes as much as anybody else's. So it's only right that I type down as we leave the continent what this place has done for me, but as importantly what it's done to me.

This country and particularly the Zulu region has had a more profound effect on me than any I've known. And to all those of you who said this would be a life-changing experience - it was.

Up to this point my 'wonderful life' has had two important goals that come before anything else, particularly since 1999. Those were to learn and to enjoy. Simple enough really, not always practiced, but a nice rule of thumb when you had those moments to reflect and re-evaluate. The road to the two objectives was not always that clear, but contentment and satisfaction along the way meant I didn't have to always struggle for nothing but the ideal.

South Africa screwed it all up.

Learning and enjoying are easy, especially if like me you have the fortunate predisposition to enjoy learning. The problem is that both concern the self, they are things I want for me and disregard anybody else.

So what did I enjoy?

Firstly the freedom. To be able to turn up in another country, another continent and spend two months of my life seeing something so close to my normal life, but so far removed. Appreciating the freedom to choose that I could come here, priviledged to have a little plastic credit card there to sort anything out at the end. It's that freedom we've got in the UK that even most 'rich' white South Africans don't have. You've got a fortunate window of opportunity with the pound as it is, so if you're thinking of it, don't take too long.

Secondly I enjoyed the culture. I loved the culture. The Zulu way of life is rich, colorful and beautiful. The singing most of all gets inside you like nothing else, whether it was the Agape kids performing together or Jibulani roping his friend to sing for us while we fitted kitchens in Lower Molweni. But the Zulu culture is an open culture; it allows for change and accommodates and encompasses real life - such a shame as that's what's killing it. As far as survival of the fittest goes, it's far too polite. Two generations time, we'll be talking about them in the past tense.

I enjoyed the children. We're well into the age where the thoughts of wanting a family are upon us, so I suspected I would anyway. But the kids were amazing. They had a resilience and survival instinct stronger than you'd normally get back home, but besides that they were the same. Strange, but the ones who differed mostly we're the children at the Tree Clinic. They had parents, if only just, and only one they knew about. But those children displayed a trait that none of the other children had or needed - fear. Something not a single child in the world should ever truly feel.

Seeing it, and we were only witnesses here - a months voluntary work is a flea on a dogs back, but seeing it - abject fear - was when the learning began.

So here's what I learned.

I learned that the word 'Trust' can be ironic. But that's a story for another day when we've decided what to do.

I learned that you must assume nothing.

I learned that whoever said, "charity begins at home" was an idiot. It begins wherever there's a need and should disregard barriers propped up by our ancestors. Need is need.

I've learned that you've all got many many more skills than you assumed you had because you're all well educated.

I learned that common sense has it's limits and in many ways there's no such thing. It's a generalisation of sorts because common sense differs depending on whether someone been educated or not. The consequences are different as is the reasoning and justification for it. The differences get amplified depending on whether or not your belly is full. For the vast majority of Africa it's the latter.

I learned that really being here and seeing the problems is categorically different to hearing Bob Geldoff making a passionate plea or a BBC reporter talking tolls and big numbers. I don't know why it's different, but it just is. Even then, I didn't see a lot. I saw the results of it. But you can't see an empty belly, you can't see depression, anxiety or fear. I saw some of the bruises and sores and heard some of the stories, smelt the odour of apathy and neglect. But that was more than enough to change everything.

I learned the scale of the problems is beyond my comprehension. Snook is only one little girl, a gorgeous little thing who broke my heart. So if I met the hundreds of millions of others, would they all do the same? I came into contact with less than 100 orphans, lucky ones relatively speaking to be institutionalised. There are well over 100,000 in Kwa-Zulu-Natal, 2 million in South Africa! Growing at an exponential rate without any resources or support. Denials from the Health Minister that there is any link between the HIV virus and AIDS. Not being able to stack those figures up in my head, visualising it on a graph rather than in the eyes of Snook makes it easier to throw a tenner at it and get on with something else, something for myself.

I learned the complexity of the issue. I like to boil things down in my head, keep things simple so that the objectives stay pure and don't get muddied and so you don't get sidetracked. Here, although everything is 'black and white' literally, the complexity of the HIV problem is as checkered as a chess-board. If you move to find a solution in one direction, you are faced with three new ones you didn't know existed before. Find a child has HIV? Simple, sponsor them and buy them ARV's so that they live into their twenties. Except now the child has to take them in secret in case the community finds out and stones them to death for being possessed by an evil ancestor. Except that if the child misses two pills in any month in any year then by proxy, you could be responsible for creating the dreaded third strain of HIV more potent and immune to drugs than the second.

Except ARV's aren't a cure, they prolong the virus and when you have HIV, you're still a person, you'll still reach puberty. And because you've had no sex education, you'll act on your feelings, or have them acted upon you. So what do you do now - which 'move' is best? Whichever you choose, the ending is always deadly. Checkmate.

So I learned that my ideology on life - to learn and to enjoy, was a bit lame. A bit weak and a bit selfish. So I've added a third, more important than the others but dependant upon them nonetheless... to help. And not just help from a distance, to let someone else worry about making sure my cash gets turned into the correct resources, to make sure that the staff it employs have enough motivation and energy to perform. I'm talking about determined, driven, idealistic, uncompromising help. I'm not adding this third thing by choice. That option finished weeks ago. If I chose to do nothing from this point, I'll die of guilt with blood on my hands. But I'm glad I've learnt this, because now finally I've got a purpose.

I've learned that child abuse and rape have a scale, complexity and fearfulness to more than rival the HIV pandemic. I've learnt it's so big that the director of a children's charity in South Africa is petitioning the government to lower the age of consent for girls to 12 years old. Lowering it so that they can at least monitor the child prostitutes in the bars, even if they can't stop it happening. A concession that's as close to giving up as you'll ever find.

I've learned that another charity, Bobbi Bear has got more guts than that. A battle-weary front-line crisis-centre more than it is a charity. It asks for so little yet gives so much. And without our help won't exist at all. Won't give those children who stand at it's doors a chance to make it to their tenth birthday, or help them move away from what's happened to them physically and mentally. It's one place that can halt the cycle of abuse, that can remove the aggressor from the chess game and directly and immediately save a child's life, take away their fear and allow them to contemplate a healthy adulthood.

We've decided to help Bobbi Bear through the Little Box Company, and any other way we possibly can, even while we're out here. We going to raise the money to recruit and train a new officer, follow their progress and watch them help those little victims, those children, everyday into the future. But I not too proud to admit we need your help, and I know we asked before we left, and you did help. But I need it again. Really need it. This isn't a famous rock-star asking you to buy a wristband, and you're not millions of viewers watching Billy Connolly or Lenny Henry asking you to give generously. This is us, Chris and Jode, telling our families, our friends and workmates that we've found somewhere. Somewhere we know is making inroads. Somewhere that is on it's knees, that I will look you directly in the eyes in February and tell you that YOU helped save the little life of a child. You really truly helped.

"the world isn't bad because of all the evil people, but because of all the good ones doing nothing".

Wosa Moya (come change)

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