Lessons...

Oh boy, oh boy. If my final few weeks In Tanzania has taught me anything, it’s how vulnerable children are in a world ruled by adults; often unwitting pawns in battles they don’t even understand. Like a bitter divorce, where the parents play their children off against each other – a most despicable action – children mimic, eagerly swallowing and regurgitating whatever their parents feed them, because when you’re a child your parents are all-knowing, omnipotent beings, God-like.

It is part of the process of growing up to realise that parents, indeed all adults, are not perfect & don’t know everything. In fact, they may even sometimes be downright wrong. And that the world is, in fact, not black and white, but innumerable shades of grey. In ideal circumstances, these realisations are acquired without too much pain, but sometimes the road is unbelievably rocky, and incalculable damage may be caused to young hearts and psyches along the way.

The greatest sadness is that adults are often so caught up in their own world of pain, or fear, or desperation, perhaps all three together, that they don’t even realise the damage they are causing children. It seems a greater tragedy, somehow, even than adults who intentionally cause children pain, because the adults involved don’t actually intend to hurt the children. Like the buffalo I saw on safari last week: on his last legs with hounding hyenas commencing to eat him alive, having starting with his soft scrotum first. He reacted from a world of pain, striking out; charging the safari vehicle in front of him. There was no logic to that action – it served no purpose, and it caused damage no doubt to himself as well as the object of his attack. Objectivity is lost and reactions become emotionally driven, illogical.

To maintain an absolute focus on children’s welfare above and beyond the devastation of whatever disaster is unfolding in adults’ lives may seem at times impossible, given our own human failings, but is absolutely crucial, at least to the furthest extent possible. That is not to say it is possible to shield children from all pain, for it is not, and children need to learn resilience to make their own way in the world. As adults we need to be self-aware and self-critical though, assessing our own motivations and actions scrupulously, and being receptive to perhaps others bringing our failings, ill-considered actions or delusions to our attention (ouch!).

I am heading home to marry and, God-willing, have children of my own. The thought of the power and responsibility of parenthood, of the potential I will have as a parent to cause incalculable damage to another human being – is terrifying.

I consider myself a Christian, but I have learnt of the dangers of extreme religion; of cult-like organisations; of the inflexibility of absolute conviction. My belief is that faith is a process, not an absolute; it is a process of questioning & openness. I believe that God works through humans, through relationship, through love, and the imperfect human element in all of that should be acknowledged. Not even just acknowledged, but celebrated. Honestly, given our flawed characters, it’s a wonder anything miraculous is achieved through humans at all. And whilst I have my beliefs, I am not prepared to claim I’ve got it 100% right and every other person on this planet who believes something one iota different (although often fundamentally similar) to me is categorically wrong and is condemned. Surely knowing ALL would make ME God???

I have learnt how desperate people are to eke out a living in a country with a 40% (so I read somewhere) unemployment rate, and to maintain that employment once they’ve obtained it, and how vulnerable this can make them. Of the pain and cost of this vulnerability, but also of the character and strength of humans to endure.

I am sitting in Bangkok Airport on a five-hour layover, contemplating the closing of a significant chapter in my life, and the beginning of a new one.
Transitions...
Change...
Exciting, unsettling, challenging.
I think I’ll be on an emotional roller-coaster for some time to come.

I have learnt the throat-catching jolt of simultaneous joy and pain caused the simple words of a cheeky-grinned six year-old boy...
“I will miss you.”

I have learnt the size of the hole in my heart, which despite my best efforts to maintain a professional attitude to my volunteering work, has been torn simply by saying goodbye to twenty-four beautiful children.

I hope and plan to see them again one day, although I refused to promise them when. Life is uncertain, but hope and love spring eternal.

These children will always hold a special place in my heart. I wish them the world. To borrow (and slightly modify) the words and sentiments of John Schumann:

FOR THE CHILDREN

Committee Assist asked me would I write a song for you.
Didn’t know you then but now I do.
And I’m stuck in this airport, with an empty, aching heart.
And the miles roll out between us, and they’re tearing me apart.
All I’ve got is tunes and rhymes – this one’s for you.

May you always feel the sunshine; take time to taste the rain.
May your friends be true and caring and I hope you are the same.
And in your fleeting passage, leave a little bit behind
for the children who will follow in your footsteps, along the sands of time.

May the wind blow gently through your life, may your principles be strong.
May you stand up and be counted when they work out right from wrong.
May your nights be short and peaceful, may your days be warm and long.
May your music be a service... may they pause sometime and listen to your song.

May your eyes be filled with kindness, may the seeds of wisdom grow.
May you seek for truth and beauty, and when you find it may you know.
May you help feed those who’re hungry, comfort those who hurt.
May you always fight for justice, for all of us who walk upon the earth.