Elephant Day... PART 1...

Sunrise on the Serengeti

 

The Rising Serengeti Sunshine

Tembo

The early morning rise in the dark was warmed with a hot sweet coffee, but the sight of the rising sun on the Serengeti made it more than worthwhile. The first animals appeared quickly this morning – a gracious elephant herd grazing, on a day which will forever be known as elephant day. 

Again, the plethora of animals was spectacular, as they all appeared keen to avoid the heat of the midday sun, by making an early appearance, much to our delight.

PHOTOS

Rod Stewart on Safari...

Pool Commentator - Two Hits To Who??

 

The first proper sighting!

Excitement rose as Simba’s had been spotted across the plains making an early morning kill. With great excitement we approached the scene, but the long Serengeti grass obscured the full picture, but we could see Simba’s mane shining brightly in the early morning sun.

Simba after breakfast

A Jackal keen to get in on the breakfast

 

With a little movement, the true tally of the pride was seen, 5 females, 2 cubs and 2 males. The lions were so close to our jeep that I was terrified my beating heart would betray my excitement: I realised I was holding my breath!

 

Here Kitty Kitty...

A hairdo Derek the cat would be jealous of...

Smiler

 

Machars Lion??

As Simba walked away we truly couldn’t believe the day could get any better...

 TO BE CONTINUED.....

Happy Birth Day...

It started like any other as we plodded up to Mount Meru hospital, but today I was going to the Obstetrics  and gynaecology department and my first day on the labour ward. As Lizzie and I arrived we were made blatantly aware that the cleaners were on the ward – and they were a whole lot tougher than the ones in surgical, as we were met by a glare and a threatening shove of their mops as we attempted to step onto the ward. So instead we turned on our heals and headed for the western toilets to get changed down at the admin block.

Returning in our fresh clean scrubs, some of the fear-faced doctors were braving the ward, so we took this as our invitation and plonked our bags in the cupboard. Venturing onto the labour ward, we were met by a very curtain-less, sheet-less, generally dignity-less sight.  Apparently we were just in time for two births happening side by side. Literally. There is no curtain between the mothers, but their modesty was nearly spared by a curtain at the foot of each bed which could also double as a baby catching device. (NB. I discovered today (tues 21^st) that these are in fact shower curtains and are indeed for protecting against the impromptu splashes, not sure how often they get cleaned yet...)

Within 7 minutes of our shift beginning, two little heads were crowning. Choosing to focus on just one, the young girl in front of me, who was putting in a brave and solo effort. It is pretty apparent here that no dads-to-be present are present at the births, in fact there are no males here at all, and with only the female nurses offering assistance, the song # sisters are doing it for themselves # inappropriately cropped into my head. Aaargh!

I was beginning to question how on earth a small anything was going to pop out when my thoughts turned to the many happy times spent down in the lambing tunnels at Culbae and suddenly it was all so natural. I must admit however, I don’t quite have the same vivid recollection of the episiotomy, which is carried out here without local anaesthetic. To be honest, the whole birthing process so far had progressed on sheer determination, without so much as a glance from simple analgesia. A few modest wimpers and a look of sheer exhaustion and the final push was really rather magical. A beautiful baby boy, who took one look at the world and exclaimed with all his might that he had arrived. As mother and baby met in person for the first time and the final stage of labour passed, my attention spun to the lady beside, as I realised that another wee fellow was about to make his entrance.

 I never thought silence could be a more terrifying sound. There was just no sound at all. The little bundle was scooped up in a Kanga and rushed to the little table outside the ward labelled “resuscitation table” where a small plastic tube carrying low flow oxygen was poked up his tiny perfect nostril and there he was left, dazed and confused as the nurse returned to see to mummy. It was all instinct as we approached the table to the lifeless bundle and gently shook the tiny shoulders. A junior medic stepped in then and rubbed the tiny sternum and two blue eyes appeared. Still no audible breath. A heartbeat was pronounced, and the willing rub continued, urging the baby to take a breath. Taking a step back, I realised there is no urgency in further intervention from the staff here. No one appeared alarmed, or perturbed, and deep down I began to wonder if this was survival of the fittest – something which I have seen so many times here. If he was supposed to make it, he would? A wee wimper signalled that we shouldn’t wait any longer, so we suggested that we could take the baby to the neo natal unit, for fear of hypothermia and the nurses agreed, pleased to have a task off their hands. We rushed him over the court yard and into the building which serves as neo natal care, where simple wall heaters ensure temperatures sore to over 30 degrees and tiny babies fight for their lives every day. Our wee friend was received by a young, unassuming nurse and she gave him a swing by his bag legs and plopped him onto a cot under a hot lamp, the similarities to the lambing were almost amusing. With that, his eyes were wide open and an almighty wail came out of his toes, as he realised his trance had been broken. Back on the ward we were able to tell mummy that baby had taken a great cry and the relief in her eyes said it all.

Often here we have been writing the names of patients in notes and wondered how anyone could come to be called such things, but today made me realise, that sometimes there is nothing more apt than calling your baby Lucky.

Zebra Crossing...

The Safari Posse (Georgio Armani on the roof and Davies in Mustard Shirt at  the back)

First spotting on Safari - just before we reached the Ngorongoro conservation area

A Baboon Proon...

One of the Masaai camps in the Ngorongoro conservation area

PHOTO OF ZEBRA’s CROSSING

The eagerly awaited second weekend finally arrived and was set to be a corker – we were going on Safari! The usual Thursday night BBQ was tremendous but our  6.30 collection from the house was the real topic of conversation, and not much sleep was had that night.

PHOTO OF DAVIES COLLECTION

Davies rocked up in the Safari jeep the next morning and the adventure began. The drive out to the Serengeti took us through the Ngorongoro conservation area, which is peppered with masai tribal villages throughout.

PHOTO of MASAI VILLAGE

The anticipation of spotting the first animals almost pipped the excitement of the real sighting. With donkeys leading the way, and the cheeky baboons at the gate to the Ngorongoro conservation area, the animal count soon began to count up.

I feel  that the pictures from safari  tell a thousands stories that my words just can’t do justice, so here’s a few sights form the first day...

PICTURES

If you look carefully you will see the lion resting on this rock.

The vultures resting in the nearby tree gave these lions away, resting after a recent kill.

The most amazing sight on this first day, was the zebra crossing.  A wee bit different to the one in Newton Stewart, this sight was amazing, we timed it beautifully for the beginning of the mass migration, the zebra and wildebeest in their thousands crossing the Serengeti plains. It was truly awesome, and I don’t feel that these photographs truly do justice for the sheer volume of animals which stretched as far as the horizon.

This first day was wrapped up with a sighting of a sleeping leopard, lazing in a sausage tree. He was a little further away than we would have wished, but no less awesome. Apparently aware of his audience, he struck a pose which delighted everyone.

On the way to the campsite, we crossed a swamp and right in the middle was a bathing hippo. It was a great sight, but trumped only by her friend who appeared from behind a tree in the distance. The approaching hippo caused great hilarity with her apparent embarrassment as she skipped from the cover of one bush to the next until she finally belly flopped into the swamp with her friends!

Our Serengeti Campsite

The race was then on to reach the campsite and pitch the tents before the sun dipped too low in the sky. I was genuinely a little alarmed to see there was no fence, or wall or anything really between the pitched tents and the wild plains of the Serengeti.

Sunset on the Serengeti

The lesson in tent pitching was quick and adequate, and the tents were up and bedding rolls laid in time to watch the sun go down on a fantastic day. That night a delicious meal was served by Georgio Armani, our personal chef, and our dreams were full of the adventures we hoped to have the next day.

Fighting Poverty Through Education...

 Today (written on 1st Feb) we went to St Jude’s school- Africa’s largest charity funded school providing education to over 1500 students for free. The young founder and director Gemma Rice (now Gemma Sisia) is a sheep farmer’s daughter, from Australia who believes in “Fighting Poverty Through Education” and is the brains and determination behind this great achievement.

Yesterday, 31^st January 2012, the School celebrated 10 years since opening its first classroom in 2002, when there was one teacher and 3 students. They now employ over 150 Tanzanian teachers and 250 support roles across 3 campuses. With a 40km radius of catchment area to each school, there are also boarding facilities for 1000 students

The students qualify for entry to St Jude’s by possessing strong academic potential, whilst coming from impoverished backgrounds. Only one child per family is permitted in order to ensure fairness and to perpetuate the opportunities far into each community.

 When we arrived we were greeted by Helen, an Aberdonian who had taken an 18 month voluntary administration post, and was clearly moved by the great opportunity she had been given. After a brief introduction to St Jude’s we were taken up to the upper school’s dining hall and invited to join everyone for lunch. Just as we arrived the bell sounded and the young students poured out of every visible door, and filed across the grass and to the long lines of tables where they took their place for grace. St Jude’s places great importance on meal times, as they are acutely aware that it may be the only nourishment the children receive that day.

We joined on the end of the table, where the children welcomed the visitors, in English. One rule for visitors to St Jude’s – you must speak in English to the children!  This is a lot easier said than done, when all we had been doing for the past 2 weeks was mastering Kswahili! But the children soon corrected us, and they were far more fluent in their English than me in Kswahili, and keen to converse with the visitors.

 After lunch was play time, but our new friends were keen to show us around and ask lots of questions about who these visitor were and where they came from. My new friend Nickson was keen to show me the art room and his replica multicoloured St Jude’s school bus. Afterwards, the conversation turned to reading, and Nickson thought Roald Dahl was simply brilliant! When the school bell sounded again, the children dutifully dispersed back to the classrooms for afternoon session, without too much complaint.

RAFIKI NICKSON

 Adela then joined us to complete our tour, which took us via a well stocked library in the upper school and two modern PC rooms, and numerous classrooms where only a handful of students were distracted enough to wave, most continued studiously. On the front a PE lesson was taking place with a volunteer from the USA leading class. Jo and I were keen to join in, and thought we were doing pretty well until the children gingerly pointed out that our throwing technique was entirely wrong, and made us start again!

MISS GUILFOYLE LOOKING VERY ATTENTIVE IN CLASS

A TYPICAL CLASSROOM IN JUNIOR SCHOOL

PE CLASS

THE COLOURFUL ST JUDE'S SCHOOL BUSES

 Soon the school bell signalled the end of another day. Helen sought us out and offered us a lift home on the school bus going close to the Work the World house. As we boarded the slightly over crowded bus, the children were all too pleased to scrunch up or sit on our knees to make room. Their excited chatter lasted the whole journey. When the bus first stopped we had arrived in the small impoverished villages which perhaps could be called slums. There was order in the villages which had small houses with winding pathways between each row, but the conditions were far from ideal, and there was no electricity here. It wasn’t entirely removed of beauty as I pointed out the pretty lake surrounded by flowers and asked the children if they ever swam there. They burst into hysterics and replied that this was “a pool for poopies”!

ON THE SCHOOL BUS HOME

In all seriousness though, it was this part of the day more than any other that struck me just how special St Jude’s school is. There was a stark contrast from the handsome school, its new books, the PC suites and the smartly dressed children, to this home life. St Jude’s relies entirely on donations, which were buying not just the tools to educate and empower these young people but to give each and every child back the chance to dream.

Every child I spoke to at St Jude’s had a dream. These were dreams of future careers, or further education, or of foreign travel, and all these dreams are made entirely possible, by the hard work and dedication of all the staff and volunteers who continue to make St Jude’s a success for generations to come.

Thank you so much for this amazing insight.