The Children of Africa

Lake Bunyoni

Mauled by the Tigers -Wainwright makes new friends

Some of the 67 children of the orphanage

Our 10 hour trek south finally brought us to our final destination in Uganda at Lake Bunyoni. The camp site was set on the edge of the lake and surrounded by a verdant landscape of trees and fields. It was a blessed relief after our stay on the outskirts of Kampala where the campsite had been in an urban area, had basic amenities and was guarded by government troops due to the unrest in the city.

The 2 nights at Lake Bunyoni were very relaxing as it was an excellent campsite with a bar and dining area. My tent opened out onto the Lake itself. A great way to start any day.

On the morning after our arrival the group was given the opportunity to visit the nearby orphanage. This involved an arduous trek up the steep slopes of the hillside to the nearest village. Our local guide introduced us to some of the villagers, including a very frail old lady who claimed to be 110 years old. She lived in one room in the care of her family.

Many of the homes had one or two cattle corralled in their yard. There was no electricity but there was some water thanks to a project by a foreign aid worker, supported by our tour company, Exodus Travel. Large storage tanks gathered rain water for local use.

The orphanage provided for 67 children, who were all cared for by the villagers in return for a subsidy.

The health of the children varied. Some appeared well nourished and strong, whilst others were sickly and had the swollen stomachs indicative of worm infestation. All of them were of pre-school age.

We spent at least 45 minutes in the company of these brilliant kids - playing in the open with them, dancing with them and joining them in the basic classrooms where they went about their lessons.

Wainwright was a huge hit with the children and nearly earned me a detention for disrupting the lesson.

Many of the group, including me, were emotionally affected by what we saw. I don't know why these children were orphaned or how they came to be at the orphanage. I'm not sure I wanted to know.

One boy in particular broke my heart. He was clearly older than the rest. He was poorly dressed and appeared to have learning difficulties. He went barefoot, a sign that, unlike many of the other children, he has no sponsor.

Many of the children were clearly thriving and I could sense some sort of future for them. But for this boy I could not see a future. Big and clumsy at times, he clearly craved attention. I do not think that in all my life I have seen a child so much in need of love and yet so deprived of it. Not for the first time in Africa I felt so helpless and desperate to do something that will make a difference.

I had bought packs of colouring pencils in the supermarket at home and handed them to the head teacher. Others had brought gifts too. As always with children it was he simplest of toys that made them happy as they chased around after some balloons that Jess and Josh had brought.

We all made a donation towards the running of this excellent orphanage. I hope our group made a small difference to the lives of these children.

This feeling of helplessness was clearly still troubling me when we left Lake Bunyoni and continued south into Rwanda.

We stopped for lunch at a viewpoint and as Leo prepared another great meal of meats, salad, breads, guacamole, fruit and cheese a small group of urchins gathered nearby and watched in silence.

There must have been about 8 children, and although they would be lucky to get one decent meal that day none of them asked for food. They just watched as we feasted.

When the meal was over Leo scraped the left-overs into the big yellow bin we always carried. The children said nothing.

Deeply troubled by this I took a short walk away from the truck and came across two young girls.

Being a former Belgian colony, French is the dominant language in Rwanda. Through my school boy grasp of the language I established that the girls were sisters named Marie and Desiree.

I told the girls to wait away from the truck and I strode back purposefully to Isobel and recovered the last remaining gift I had to give - a cheap 'magic' colouring book and 2 pens. Kneeling beside the sisters I divided the book between them and gave them a pen each, showing the girls how it worked.

I had deliberately done this away from the group as I knew the 'rules' by now - don't give money to children as it only encourages them to beg and to stay out of school. But the same rule being applied to wasted food was wrong to me and I was pleased to do something to right this wrong, albeit in a small way.

Was I being genuinely altruistic or did I act merely to assuage my own guilt? I can't honestly say. But I do know that as we drove away from the viewpoint we passed the sisters on the road and they waved at me enthusiastically still clutching the small gifts I had given them.


Footnote: The orphanage at Lake Bunyoni has its own blog that can be followed at http://mindfulmarket.blogspot.com/