MYCEPA's "Grand Opening"

Yesterday we split into three groups. The four of us, myself, Dad, Hilary and David S, went to Lusaka as you heard. David F, Myra, Catherine, Rita and Joan went to the girls' school at Chipembe that David and Myra's church supports. They had a lovely day and came back bearing gifts and joy from a school which has been educating young women for 100 years. Carolyn, Marion and Jan went to MYCEPA to help set up for today's grand opening. They definitely drew the short straw. 

We returned last night to find them anxious that not only was the opening not ready, but the clinic was not finished! Work had been delayed so much that there was just a framework where there should have been a fully equipped CP clinic. The decision was made that the ceremony today should just be an awareness and progress event, so with willing hands we all set to work. Except for Dad, who is still in Lusaka pulling teeth. He probably had an easier time of it than us! We arrived to find a red tarpaulin in a field and not much else. 90 people were turning up in 5 1/2 hours and we had no shelter, no food, and no seating. Myra was quickly dispatched to 'find some chickens' and came back 5 hours later with all the fixings for a brilliant braai (Zambian BBQ). 

The lovely ladies of the braai.

In the interim we wrestled with a 30x40m tarpaulin covered in possibly chicken poo in high winds. Which we didn't end up using. The idea was that this would provide cover for our important guests, while the MYCEPA kids and their parents could be comfortable in a gazebo to one side. Sadly, it smelled of chicken poo and took 9 of us to unfold it, so there was no way it was going to be suitable. After we abandoned that plan and went to plan Q - possibly; we have many plans - we started putting up the tents kindly lent to us by Fringilla lodge. These large army tents were more than adequate for the assorted dignitaries who started trickling in around half an hour after kick-off.

Setting up the army tents. Why do balloons always make things festive? These were ones we found in a container. Joan thought they were ones sent over two years before, so we had balloon roulette, taking the chance that they would blow up as we blew them up.

I learned something today. I had been told about African time keeping, but never fully appreciated it until today. Time is an illusion here, to a greater extent than Ford Prefect could ever comprehend. We gave the starting time as 14:00, but we didn't start until 15:00. The event was to be two hours of speeches, music and performances but only lasted 20 minutes. Everyone seemed to enjoy the free food though.

Ladies queueing for the braai. The lady in blue was very enthusiastic!

We left the clean up for Esther and her workers, I'm afraid, but we were exhausted from setting up and wrestling tarpaulin. You know those parachute games you used to play at preschool? This was nothing like that.

When we got back to Fringilla we all had a grateful beer and tiny bananas which you can buy at the side of the road, before having a wee tour of the farm here. All the food they serve in the dining room is grown and slaughtered on site so it is super fresh and delicious, and we had a look around before dinner. This country is really beautiful.

Also pigs.

P.S. We're heading out into the wilderness tomorrow, so there will probably be some radio silence until we come back into the world. The NPAC twitter feed might still be functional occasionally, so check @PoliceAidConvoys (Mum, get Bethany to show you).

Clinics, cases and KK

The main function of today was to start setting up the dental clinic at Makeni, but we had to pause for lunch with a very important man. Kenneth Kaunda was the first president of the newly formed Zambia 50 years ago, and as the country developed and the people called for democracy he changed the law which caused his own election so that a truly democratic election could take place. His party was defeated and a new party came into power. Thus was democracy brought into Zambia in a creditably sensible way. Now KK is 90, and he still attends democratic functions, although usually these days he is being honoured rather than honouring. Today he honoured us with an invitation to lunch with him. There are people we meet through our lives who will stay with us, and Dr Kaunda is just such a person. We arrived to find a jam session in progress with KK singing what was something of a campaign song for his term in office.

 

The lyrics roughly translate to "let us walk together, let us strive towards freedom, let us bring freedom to our land" and that is exactly what he did. KK is still a strong man, commanding the attention of a room when he speaks, and is still so full of life and joy that his gleeful laugh is quite infectious. My father was delighted to finally meet a man he has memory of from when he was a young boy. He was just four years old when KK came to stay with his parents, my grandparents. At that time KK was building power and momentum and surely doesn't remember a small boy hiding in the skirts of his nanny, but my father remembered him, and today they finally met over 50 years later. Both KK and my father have strong connections to Scotland, KK's father having been a missionary for the Church of Scotland, so Dad presented KK with a vase he had made in the colours of the saltire.

KK laughs at something David S has said, and between them is Dad's saltire vase and a stack of KK's books which are no longer in print, but David managed to search them out for him.

Here we are with KK. Dad may have left his anti-malarial pills in the luggage which went missing, but at least he had a tartan tie to wear. Phew.

I was told before we left that if I brought Dad back with malaria my grandmother would haunt me all my days. I'm pretty sure she'd understand that packing his malerone in the wrong place is all his fault! Fortunately all the missing cases were returned today, to much rejoicing.

Makeni

Today we're heading out to the Makeni Islamic Centre to set up the dental clinic. Our suitcases arrived at the airport so we're able to do some preparation today. We'll stay in Lusaka tonight and carry on with some treatments tomorrow morning before coming back to Fringilla Lodge in Chisamba for the opening of Esther's MYCEPA clinic which helps children with cerebral palsy. CP is a big problem here, since a lot of the mothers have cerebral malaria during pregnancy. If a child is born with CP they cannot feed or move without help, because the connection between brain and muscles is compromised. Esther's fifth child was born with CP, and luckily enough there was a local nurse trained in physiotherapy, which allowed her to teach Esther how to deal with her son's CP. This young man is now almost 30 years old and a champion for equal opportunities for disabled workers.

You can see more about Esther's story here: http://youtu.be/X5ljpQrMOPE

Chisamba

We made it! And only four hours late. The flight from Heathrow was delayed so we missed our connecting flight. This also means that we've lost all our luggage, but hey, we made it!

Zambia is a lot more colourful than I thought it would be. From the plane it looked mostly yellow with a few muddy bits, but down on the ground it's full of reds, yellows, browns, greens and purples. The shadows from the setting sun colour the grass and earth with dusty blues, and bright orange and pink flowers sprout from seemingly every shrub. As we were driven away from the airport I spotted a fallen tree which had been overgrown with beautiful lilac flowers. I would have got a photo, but we drove past too quickly. We were being driven by Little Isaac, as he introduced himself, possibly to differentiate himself from Isaac, who has guided NPAC on previous visits. 

We got to our accommodation for the night in Chisamba, and it is beautiful. A 36 hour day will do wonders for your appreciation of a shower! Tomorrow we are going to the clinic at Makeni with David S and Hilary. The rest of the group are splitting up to visit other projects, like the school that David F and Myra's church support, and the childrens' clinic that Esther has laboured on for many years. I'll be sure to give you all an update on NPAC's valuable work, but that's all from me for now folks, I'll look in again as soon as I can.

Here's the lovely group we're with. David F and Myra met us at Chisamba, but they are also lovely, so that's alright.

Heathrow

We're in a restaurant at Heathrow waiting for our gate to be called. I tried taking a photo of the whole group but the camera I borrowed from Bethany to replace my camera which was on the fritz, has gone on the fritz. Have some photos of our luggage instead.

We'll let you know how it all goes when we next find wi-fi!

Dad's hand luggage and one hold bag, complete with curious puppy.

The three other hold bags we have booked in. Fortunately most of this is staying out there!

Posts from John: Colonial boy

I was born in Broken Hill General Hospital during the rainy season. My Father was at work in Mumbwa when he was contacted and set off to collect his wife and first son. The land rover carrying my Mother and me could not cross the floods and had to turn back. They tried again when the water was lower but my Mother still had to wade across the floods which were up to her waist. She wrapped me in a muslin cloth which saved me from malaria but she became ill and this affected her for years afterwards.

 My Dad with me (right) and my brother David (left).

 David and I on the vegetable plot our mother set up to educate and feed the local workers. One man chose to fertilise his tomatoes... personally. They were always the biggest and tastiest!

This was the house we lived in at Gwembe. It was fairly typical for colonial administrators.

Life was tough for a colonial wife but much easier for the men. I remember an idyllic childhood with great adventures and freedom. I did go to school for a short time but most of my early education was by correspondence course. 

Post Party Preparations

The party on Saturday was a roaring success. At one point there was an estimated 150 people in our garden, and everyone seemed to have a good time, raising over £500. I say over £500 because we don't have a final figure yet. People keep donating more and more, so we're delighted with everyone's generosity, thank you all!

T-minus 90 minutes until party: I know my last post was calm before the storm, but please stop raining.

In the background here you can see flags of all the nations NPAC visits with aid. Can you guess any of them?

T-minus 60 minutes until party: The power has gone out, the rain is still falling, but my Dad keeps smiling.

Here's the full list of NPAC aid nations, just in case you couldn't work out the flags.

T-minus 30 minutes until party: The wonderful ladies of N&DCS setting up all the delicious food they provided. Also my beautiful baby sister in her green and white dress. Also a greedy mutt.

Off we go! The sun did eventually come out, as did the band!

The brilliantly talented gentlemen of RAF Waddington and Holton provide some suitably Caledonian entertainment. World class pipes and drums folks!

We owe a huge thank you to everyone who helped make this a success; everyone who helped on the day, everyone who donated time/money/food/drinks, and everyone who came along and joined in.

Now we should probably start packing.

EDIT: The final figures are in, and we managed to raise £768! Tremendous gratitude to everyone who has been so generous, thank you all!

The calm before the storm

Today's a big day in the run-up to our trip. We're hosting a garden party for the Newark and District Caledonian Society (NDCS). Their annual summer social is usually in aid of charity, and this year they've chosen to support NPAC. This might have something to do with Dad being the president of NDCS. All week we've been working in the garden and house, planting, weeding, mowing, cleaning, gazeebing (from the verb: to gazebo) and raising flags of all nations.

There will be games including Water into Wine (a sort of wine roulette) and naming the flags of all the countries NPAC sends aid to (I will most definitely not be attempting this one). There will be drums and pipes from RAF Waddington, some facepainting and games for any little ones who show up. Expect humourous photos to follow, but in the interim please accept these photos of our preparation.

Looking from the garden towards the house. The raised bed is usually full of lavender, but we had to move a few due to overzealous puppy activity.

From the raised bed down to my sister's playhouse. You can see some lavender replanting in progress.

The corner of house and garage. This area now thoroughly gazeboed.

A pigeon. Because.

My Dad's world view.

Our utility room, which has now been converted into a haven of... well mostly alcohol. Here you can see an example of Dad's sense of humour. The board on the wall reads "Freezer Jolly Good Fellow".

My Dad's Taking Me to Zambia!

My Dad in 1964. He never wore shoes unless he had to be smart.

My father was born under southern skies during the rainy season in what was then Northern Rhodesia and is now Zambia. His father was a colonial officer and his mother took a chance on leaving England and marrying someone she hardly knew. It's lucky for me that she did.

My Gran and Grandpa on their wedding day, 12th December 1956.

My father lived in 14 different houses all over Zambia by the time he was 6 years old. My grandparents decided to return to England when independence came in 1964/5. My father arrived on January 1st 1965 into Southampton docks with his parents and younger brother to start life in an alien environment. England provided stability and opportunity for a young family and my father went on to qualify as a dentist. He has always told stories about Zambia and his affection for the country and its people underpins his life. My mother and father went to Zambia as tourists in 1992 which reaffirmed his ambition to one day give something back. Many healthcare workers, teachers, builders, and other professionals make significant contributions in the developing world, and my father was given the opportunity to make a difference 50 years after he left. The National Police Aid Convoys (NPAC) have been supporting people in war zones and underprivileged areas for 21 years and published an article in our local free paper about their work. My dad read this and went to help load a container to be sent to Zambia in 2013.

The start of it all. Dad helping to load a container from NPAC with bunk beds, books, uniforms, crutches, a fridge, incontinence pads,a papier mache relief map of the Mfuwe area, electronic organs, chairs, tables and a three piece suite.

The charity's supporters travel to the countries they support to establish what needs there are and to ensure the aid arrives and is appropriate. Their first shipment included wooden school chairs, which was a mistake because termites eat them in Zambia. Lessons are learned, communities develop, and the charity workers can't help but launch new projects where needs are identified. The next group to visit Zambia leave on the 20th June, and I am privileged to be joining my father in what will be a great adventure. My father and I will spend the first two days setting up a new dental clinic in Lusaka, then we'll spend two weeks at rural projects in the area south of Mfuwe before coming back to Victoria Falls, then home. It sounds like a short trip, but I'm sure it will change my life. This blog is our way of documenting the preparation, the trip itself and the aftermath thereof, spreading the word about NPAC and the vital work they do, and thanking people for their generosity in helping my father achieve a major ambition.