Week 10 Blog: Was it all Worthwhile? (3/4/16)

Had a great chill with another ILO volunteer, Marion, over the Easter weekend. Bumped into a couple of guys from Johannesburg who invited me to play with them at the Maseru club. With Marion as my newly appointed camera crew and manager, a groovy evening was had by all, fulfilling my ambition to play some African music with some African musicians. See the results on You Tube by searching under African Vibes Jan Jeffrey

After that it was back to Morapeli to finish my assessments and a brief visit to Saint Angela's to catch up with proceedings there. It's great to see the kids again but things don't seem to have changed. Sister has had to go to town, but hopefully will be back by lunchtime to see me. By the end of the day I am still waiting to see her and also Lerato, who I recommended to have an x-ray back in February.

Sister doesn't return but at last Lerato is wheeled in by her mother. They both look drained and Lerato is obviously in a lot of pain. She still hasn't had her x-ray, despite Bob leaving the money to speed up the process. The social worker says she has had a problem finding a hospital with an x-ray machine that works. The mother says Lerato has deteriorated since I last saw her. Now both hips are painful and contracted and she has an abscess on her buttock and ankle.

I look at the abscess on her buttock which is the size of Lerato’s fist. Even the social worker looks shocked. I tell the mother she must take Loretta to hospital tomorrow. It will cost 15 Maluti (about 60 pence). I can't be bothered of going through the tedium of where the money will come from and give her 100 Maluti to cover all contingencies. It probably represents a small fortune to her, but it is only four pounds and nothing to me.

Sometimes I think I would like to stay in Lesotho. Other times I don't think I could cope with the guilt of living in a country where the cost of a cup of coffee in a cafe could be spent sending someone like Lerato to hospital. Anyway, my time is nearly up here, so was it all worthwhile?

To paraphrase Sir John Hunt from the successful first ascent of Everest "For those of us who took part in the venture the answer must surely be yes. We have shared moments of great living upon that mountain. ‘That mountain’, in my case being the Mountain Kingdom of Lesotho. I have had amazing experiences here, even if some of them have been horrific. I have met inspiring children, ventured into areas of physiotherapy I have never been to before and seen incredible scenery. I have coped with things I wasn't sure I could and achieved more than I thought I would.

In the short term, I did make a difference. How long those changes will last, I don't know. Encouragingly Sentebale is investing more into Phelisanong which will help sustain the physiotherapy and changes in the ways the children are fed. I feel less positive about Saint Angela's, but I have set up a physiotherapy room there, planted some seeds and brought to light some deficiencies. I have also made a plan to link together the physiotherapy for the four main care partners dealing with disabled children, which hopefully can be used to support and encourage developments in the future.

IIt’s hard to imagine life back in the NHS in Wales, where I don't have to think about a sink with running water and soap to wash my hands, or where a parent will find 65 pence to send their child to hospital. There have been moments of great frustration and despair, but also I have been uplifted by moments of "great living" in the Mountain Kingdom of Lesotho.

I will never forget my time here and have made a short movie to try and capture how I felt about it all. Please search on You Tube under Wales for Africa. Lesotho 2016 Jan, to view. For myself, personally, it certainly has been worthwhile, and hopefully I can come back soon. It has been the most rewarding and brilliant of times.

Reflections

I was dangling on a rope in space, over 600 feet above the ground, next to one of the highest waterfalls in Africa, Maletsunyane falls. The mist from the falls drifted across, soaking me. I was nearing the end of my time in Lesotho and had come to Semonkong lodge for my last few days. Semonkong translates as place of smoke. The town is famous for the falls and gorge and the outdoor activities that take advantage of the natural beauty here. Pony trekking, hiking and fishing are available, but I’d only come for the abseil, the highest commercial abseil in the world.

As I slowly made my way down the cliff, I could see the faces of all the children I had worked with. Alex showing me how his thin deformed arms could do Taekwondo, Thaby doggedly doing his exercises, Wagi standing on her head, Lineo putting toys in a bucket, Malafane, dribbling in fierce concentration while he played with a fire engine, Kolosoa and Tokiso proudly walking in the sunshine with their frames. 

My eight weeks, plus an additional two that the ILO had given me, were over, and at last I had time to reflect. The ten weeks had passed by in a blur of bright light, heat, smells (some of them not very pleasant), spectacular scenery and intense emotions. There had been no chance to pause as I dealt with the day to day crisis’s of the children’s health care, chaotic infrastructure and lack of resources. There had been no health expertise to draw on and little guidance for my assignment.

The only health professional I had met during my venture, had been Dr John, when he came to assess the children one day at Saint Angela’s. I had to become an expert on all manner of health issues during my time here, there was nobody else. Back in the UK I am only responsible for my one small area of physiotherapy. In Lesotho I had ventured into areas where I had previously not dared to tread and found depths to my skills and health knowledge that I didn’t know I had.

I had made mistakes in my enthusiasm to help, and my assumptions were sometimes wrong. At Saint Angela’s there was the episode of the wheelchair cushions. At Phelisanong I thought that some of the children, who were walking on bent and twisted limbs, might benefit from extra support. I found the usual response, when I offered them crutches, was a look of confusion. Why would they want walking aids when they were already walking? They would politely accept them and when I next saw them passing by they would be carrying on as usual, having left their crutches behind in a dusty corner somewhere.

My greatest sense of achievement in Lesotho was getting the children with swallowing difficulties fed upright and Sentebale agreeing to fund extra care workers to sustain this. The most profound thing that happened to me was the experience of working with the children with learning disabilities at Phelisanong. As I started to solve some of the practicalities of how to feed them, I began to see their personalities emerge and see beyond their titanic struggles to swallow. I soon realised that these children had beautiful souls, you could look into their eyes and see straight to their heart. They were pure and untainted. These children were a delight to engage with and my ability to work with them was a total revelation to me.

My biggest pleasure during my time in Lesotho was sharing Tokiso’s utter joy when he got a walking frame to use. His determination to get fitter, more independent and realise his dream of walking to school was truly inspirational. I will never forget his face as he walked out of the door on his frame for the first time. Fortunately, I captured it on film to replay and relive in darker times ahead. He also provided my most heart breaking experience when I had to leave Phelisanong and he broke down in tears. His devastation encapsulated my own fears of what would happen to the children, and the changes I had made, when I left.

Seeing the children and staff in the play room on my final morning at Phelisanong gave me hope that the staff would continue to play and work with the children after I was gone. Hope, that the children might have more to look forward to than endless hours of looking at the ceiling and floor, and that with some stimulation, they might gradually gain a little more independence and control over their lives. That some of them might sit up. That some of them might walk. I wanted to help them build on the small successes they had already achieved. It was a compelling force that made me want to return to Lesotho. For now, though, it was time to go home.