I wrote a new blog post just below this about 5 hours ago giving an update on Peter. Since then I returned to the Hospice with James and also Peters guardian. We sat with Peter for a couple of hours... his breathing was getting worse and more laboured. I was meant to return to the city to pick up visitors, but I sensed that he was rapidly getting worse. He was not in pain but struggling to breathe, We decided to stay and see how he got on, and at 5:05pm he gave his last breathe. Thankfully he was in the company of the 3 of us who really cared for him, who have been his family for so long. We were glad he wasn't in pain, and it is good that it all happened so quickly and he didnt suffer for too long. We are very sad to lose him though and in shock that it did happen so fast. We will miss him so much. Right now there is not much more I can say.
Thank you to all those who have prayed and sacrificed financially for him.
Tuesday, 19 July 2011
LAST STOP BEFORE HOME
Hi to everyone, its been long since my last blog, with a lot going on and too much to say just now, but i hope to do a new update in the next week or so which will tell you all about the adventures of the Rhino charge... The fate of Shaun the Sheep... and updates on work life here in Kenya. But for now I wanted to tell you about how Peter is getting on. The 13 year old boy I look after who has terminal cancer.
Peter has slowly been detriorating over the last few months and before I left for quick trip back to the Uk in the middle of June I had been in discussions with the Nairobi Hospice about the need for eventually moving Peter into a Resdidential Nursing Home/Hospice. We had one lined up that looked good, was great value and run by the catholic church. I headed back to UK for some meetings, and made sure that Peter had all his medication and was looked after while I was away. Peter's condition had been getting worse recently to the point where he didnt leave the house much, his lost sight in his right eye, as the tumour is pushing on the eye and almost forcing it out the socket. He has also got multiple tumours on his head, another pushing on the other eye etc.
When I returned from the UK the following day I was called to the house, Peter was having chest pains and wasn't well. We got the doctor out and changed some medications etc, and thankfully he improved. However it was a sign of what was to come and we had a discussion with his guardian and agreed to move him the to residential hospice sooner rather than later. The guardian and I did a trip up the road during the week to check out the place. There is a lovely irish nun called Sister Eileen who runs it, it has 9 beds, is only a year old and is a fantastic facility. Its quiet which is good in some ways, but I was worried Peter would bee lonely.
Anyways we got it organised and last Tuesday I moved him up there. OI was worried he might feel we were abandoning him, but actually he was quite keen to go, he was experiencing pain all the time and I knew he just wanted to be comfortable. We settled him in, but it was hard leaving him... i was close to tears, it was very tough, especially as I knew this would be the last place he stays before he finally passes away. This poor kid has spent his whole life being moved from one place to another, with no parents, and being looked after by so many different adults. This would be his last home, his last bed...
I came back a couple of days later to pick him up and bring him to the doctor in the city and just to take him out for the day. I looked in his wardrobe and his clothes and everything were still in the suitcase... this i how he has come to learn to live... everytthing he has ever known has been in a box or suitcase, he lives out of that... and he would not think to put things on his shelf... everything is neatly packed and kept in the suitcase... it says a lot.
He seemd to be ok in the hospice even though he was a little bored but his bed in comfortable and he has made friends with another patient. Yesterday I planned to come up and visit... and the sister phoned me before hand to say he was very weak that day, not so strong and weas very tired. I arrived to see him asleep in bed... but he sat up when we came, was talking a bit and ate some food... but he seemed to have changed quite a bit... the sister says almost over night there has been a change. We stayed for a short time, I had to get back to the city, but he was so pleased to see us. The sister kept calling me the rest o fthe day giving me updates and this hinted to me that perhaps his detrioration is serious. He got worse again in the evveing, but was at least eating.
This morning I drove up with the doctor from the city, and I found him propped up in his bed, really struggling to breath, barely able to move, his chest going up and down so fast. He looked so weak and it was shocking to see him in this state, he barely had enough energy to keep is one reasonable eye open and to say more than one word at a time. He has so much pain all over. His stomach is huge, the liver is bigger, his whole body is getting distorted. His head is huge and I will include a picture below taken a few weeks ago... imagine its all a lot bigger than that now. This poor kid is going through hell right now. Even the hospice staff are struggling emotionally with all this, its such a brutal way to go, and if hospice staff are sgtruggling, people who deal with canacer patients all the time it shows how tough this is all for peter.
It incredible how he has changed so much in a few days. I tried to get the docs to predict what woudl happen, but I knew I was asking unreasonable questions because no on really knows. But eventually I got it out of them... once there are respiritory problems thats how it starts for a lot of cancer patients to go. It was finally said, that pretty much now he could go at any time.
I can;t believe it, I came back from the Uk expecting it would be a couple of months before dealin with residential care and even longer before the end would come, and now this might all end in a matter of days, or even hours. Hard to know what to do now in the next few days, but I am organising people to visit him and spend as much time there as possible. That last thing I want is for him to pass away and for one of us that are close to him not be around.
Peter has incredible faith in God. While he was still at his guardians house, he barely left the house, but each evening he walked through the streets, stiumbling along, while people would stare at his disfigurement, he would go to an evening prayer service everyday at 5pm. he trusts in God, and I wouldn;t say I know many certainties in life, but for sure I know God has a place marked out for him in heaven... where there will be no more disfigurement, or pain, where he will be whole again.
There are many more things I could write, but thats all I got for now.... I have to rush back to see him this afternoon, before it gets dark later. I would ask you to pray for Peter.... pray that he won;t be afraid in the coming days, pray that he won't be in pain, pray for the nurses and carers around him.... pray that he will have peace in the remaining days. Its not long now before he will be truely home with his Father in heaven.
Peter has slowly been detriorating over the last few months and before I left for quick trip back to the Uk in the middle of June I had been in discussions with the Nairobi Hospice about the need for eventually moving Peter into a Resdidential Nursing Home/Hospice. We had one lined up that looked good, was great value and run by the catholic church. I headed back to UK for some meetings, and made sure that Peter had all his medication and was looked after while I was away. Peter's condition had been getting worse recently to the point where he didnt leave the house much, his lost sight in his right eye, as the tumour is pushing on the eye and almost forcing it out the socket. He has also got multiple tumours on his head, another pushing on the other eye etc.
When I returned from the UK the following day I was called to the house, Peter was having chest pains and wasn't well. We got the doctor out and changed some medications etc, and thankfully he improved. However it was a sign of what was to come and we had a discussion with his guardian and agreed to move him the to residential hospice sooner rather than later. The guardian and I did a trip up the road during the week to check out the place. There is a lovely irish nun called Sister Eileen who runs it, it has 9 beds, is only a year old and is a fantastic facility. Its quiet which is good in some ways, but I was worried Peter would bee lonely.
Anyways we got it organised and last Tuesday I moved him up there. OI was worried he might feel we were abandoning him, but actually he was quite keen to go, he was experiencing pain all the time and I knew he just wanted to be comfortable. We settled him in, but it was hard leaving him... i was close to tears, it was very tough, especially as I knew this would be the last place he stays before he finally passes away. This poor kid has spent his whole life being moved from one place to another, with no parents, and being looked after by so many different adults. This would be his last home, his last bed...
I came back a couple of days later to pick him up and bring him to the doctor in the city and just to take him out for the day. I looked in his wardrobe and his clothes and everything were still in the suitcase... this i how he has come to learn to live... everytthing he has ever known has been in a box or suitcase, he lives out of that... and he would not think to put things on his shelf... everything is neatly packed and kept in the suitcase... it says a lot.
He seemd to be ok in the hospice even though he was a little bored but his bed in comfortable and he has made friends with another patient. Yesterday I planned to come up and visit... and the sister phoned me before hand to say he was very weak that day, not so strong and weas very tired. I arrived to see him asleep in bed... but he sat up when we came, was talking a bit and ate some food... but he seemed to have changed quite a bit... the sister says almost over night there has been a change. We stayed for a short time, I had to get back to the city, but he was so pleased to see us. The sister kept calling me the rest o fthe day giving me updates and this hinted to me that perhaps his detrioration is serious. He got worse again in the evveing, but was at least eating.
This morning I drove up with the doctor from the city, and I found him propped up in his bed, really struggling to breath, barely able to move, his chest going up and down so fast. He looked so weak and it was shocking to see him in this state, he barely had enough energy to keep is one reasonable eye open and to say more than one word at a time. He has so much pain all over. His stomach is huge, the liver is bigger, his whole body is getting distorted. His head is huge and I will include a picture below taken a few weeks ago... imagine its all a lot bigger than that now. This poor kid is going through hell right now. Even the hospice staff are struggling emotionally with all this, its such a brutal way to go, and if hospice staff are sgtruggling, people who deal with canacer patients all the time it shows how tough this is all for peter.
It incredible how he has changed so much in a few days. I tried to get the docs to predict what woudl happen, but I knew I was asking unreasonable questions because no on really knows. But eventually I got it out of them... once there are respiritory problems thats how it starts for a lot of cancer patients to go. It was finally said, that pretty much now he could go at any time.
I can;t believe it, I came back from the Uk expecting it would be a couple of months before dealin with residential care and even longer before the end would come, and now this might all end in a matter of days, or even hours. Hard to know what to do now in the next few days, but I am organising people to visit him and spend as much time there as possible. That last thing I want is for him to pass away and for one of us that are close to him not be around.
Peter has incredible faith in God. While he was still at his guardians house, he barely left the house, but each evening he walked through the streets, stiumbling along, while people would stare at his disfigurement, he would go to an evening prayer service everyday at 5pm. he trusts in God, and I wouldn;t say I know many certainties in life, but for sure I know God has a place marked out for him in heaven... where there will be no more disfigurement, or pain, where he will be whole again.
There are many more things I could write, but thats all I got for now.... I have to rush back to see him this afternoon, before it gets dark later. I would ask you to pray for Peter.... pray that he won;t be afraid in the coming days, pray that he won't be in pain, pray for the nurses and carers around him.... pray that he will have peace in the remaining days. Its not long now before he will be truely home with his Father in heaven.
Wednesday, 18 May 2011
BAAAAAAAAAAAAAA
WHEN IT RAINS.... IT DOESN’T POUR – For a while, all of us in Nairobi were wondering if the rains were not going to come this season, the whole of April passed with hardly a drop, the grass was turning a slightly beige colour and dust was swirling in the air in the form of dust devils. Finally though as May came, so did the rains. Last week it was pretty strong, almost every day. Thankfully the roof of the house is still holding on, but only just. The verendah still seems to leak water in the rain and is generally out of use at the moment and each day its a challenge to keep as much mud off your feet as possible and not drag it into every building and room. When you think about it, in the UK when it rains, the worst you have for walking is on wet pavements and passed puddles, hardly ever is the challenge presented for walking through muddy streets, paths, walk ways etc. On my way to work in the morning the streets are not only busy with cars, but pedestrians walking on the road, the hard tarmac, rather than the swampy mud fields that line the hard surfaced roads. It can be a bit of a game of chicken, or bowling, as you swerve the car passed people, huge puddles which might be secretly hiding a 2 foot pothole which would love to do damage to your car and your spine, and avoiding hitting on coming vehicles. Its not the most fun driving and its hard also to avoid splashing people with dirty brown muddy water. The weird thing last week was that when I got up in the morning it seemed there was not water in the taps, the toilet or the shower. Eventually there would be a trickle out the tap but at this point it was dirty muddy water pouring into the sink. I turned on the water pump for the backup tank and eventually some water would come through the shower, just at the point I had finished bathing in some cold tap water stored in some plastic bottles, at least then I could have a shower to warm up again! This happened over a few days, and I wondered how it could be pouring with rain outside, but not pouring through my water taps, toilet or shower. This is typical Nairobi, we rely on water for electricity, it turns the turbines, we rely on water for the taps etc yet during the rainy season we can get really bad power cuts and shortages of water in the pipes. So sometimes when it rains, it really doesn’t pour.
BAAAAAAAAA – At homegroup on Thursday night the subject came up about Mark’s birthday dinner on Sunday. What present should be bought???? Now Mark is a Welshman and of course the obligatory joke about the perfect present being a sheep for a Welshman would be very funny came up. Questions arose about where could you buy a toy sheep as a joke, or a stuffed teddy like sheep. Eventually as we were getting nowhere Ben piped up half joking, half serious, ‘what if we bought him a real sheep?’. Some in the group couldn’t believe he was serious... I loved the idea, how funny would that be, it would be the most legendary present ever, it would go down in history, and here in Kenya going out to buy a sheep would actually be possible. We discussed it some more and the ideas kept growing. Where could we get it? What would we call it? How could we transport it? Could he keep it at his house? What would his wife think? A plan started to come together. Friday a few of us set to the task of finding a sheep. I spoke to people at work and our accountant told me he had a friend from his church who could help, so Friday morning we set off to Kiserian, into the sheep market and began the process of selecting a sheep. There wasn’t much choice but in the end I picked up a black headed sheep. They tied him up and placed him in the back of my car. James sat in the back keeping an eye on him and we headed back to my house. Now the tricky thing at my house was the dogs... not sure if they would be friends with the sheep or not. We unloaded him, the dogs went beserk and so we had to keep them away. We tied him to a post in the garden, on a very long piece of rope and he set about at mowing my lawn. It was probably the nicest, greenest grass he ever tasted. The staff at the house were initially thinking I had brought a sheep home to be slaughtered and shared around, but I had to disappoint them and said it was for a friend’s birthday. The funny thing is that here buying someone a live sheep is not that strange, certainly in Kenyan culture, so although the expats would think we were crazy, the Kenyans thought it made sense! He munched on the grass Friday and Saturday and slept in the store room over night to avoid being attacked by the dogs. Charles washed him and made him really clean and ready to be presented at lunch on Sunday. Now in the initial discussions we decided we would call the sheep ‘Dolly’ after the infamous cloned sheep from Edinburgh. However there was a slight snag... i forgot to check the sex before we bought it and of course I ended up buying a male sheep. Never mind we stuck with Dolly and my friend Anke spent 5 hours on the Saturday embroidering a name badge for the sheep. Sunday came, and Ben picked up Dolly from my house in his Landrover, as I was at church early to lead worship. We had arranged with the security guard at the church which is held at a private school, to tie the sheep up and look after it during church. So we did church and then a group of us waited for Mark and Sue to head to the restaurant for lunch so we would arrive after them. We loaded Dolly up again in the car and headed to the restaurant which was out of town and near the safari park. As we arrived, we realised to get into the restaurant we would have to cross a rope bridge, just like the one from Indiana Jones, and they would see us crossing the bridge and also perhaps Dolly might not want to cross the bridge in the first place. So as Ben went to bring Mark to the car park with all the other birthday lunch guests, the girls tied ribbons and bows onto Dolly, as I kept him calm. It seemed I was dubbed the Sheep Whisperer as I seemed to have the gift of keeping him calm. I stood behind the Landrover with Dolly and everyone came round. Mark’s face was priceless! Utter shock! Not in a million years did he ever expect such a present. The joke went down very well and everyone saw how funny it was. Both Mark and Su loved it. We tied him to the Landrover to munch on the grass in the car park and the Masaai security guard promised to keep an eye on Dolly. During lunch we discussed what they might do with Dolly, mark was thinking BBQ, but Su was desperate to keep Dolly in the garden. The nicest thing was that Mark said it was a great present and said he would never forget it, he commented that he knows when he is an old man, he will be walking down the street one day and have a little chuckle to himself that one day for his birthday in Africa, a bunch of crazy guys bought him a sheep! Currently Dolly.. whose name is slowly changing to Shaun, is residing in mark’s garden, enjoying the grass and the flowers! We will wait to see if Shaun is kept, sold or eaten... watch this space!
WHEN THE TANKS RAN DRY – Over the Royal wedding weekend, when I took the Friday off and the Monday here was a bank holiday I knew I should have filled up my tank with Petrol! Tuesday came, back at work again but in the evening I was invited to someones house for a good old catch up and some delicious haggis flown in from Scotland. I left the office a little early to head across town and decided to pick up some fuel on the way, as the needle was hitting the red section of the dial and the fuel warning light was flickering on. The first petrol station I stopped at... ‘no fuel’.... no problem, its a common tale here, quite often a station runs out and you just head to the next, so thats exactly what I did, reached the next one... ‘no fuel’... ‘oh ok, no problem’... moving on to the next and of course once again .... ‘ no fuel’.... ‘oooohhhhhhh’. By this point I had crossed Waiyaki Way and was getting closer to my destination but the needle was plummeting down the fuel gauge highway towards oblivion. As I approached each station I realised something was very, very wrong! Each one had cars pulling in and pulling straight out, there was no fuel. I called Juliet to say I was trying to find fuel so would be late, she then told me the attendants at a petrol station had told her there is no fuel in Nairobi!!!! WWWWHHHHAAATTTT!!! No fuel at all? That can’t be true. Thinking I was being smart I headed back to the highway and decided to head up the Naivasha Road, as I knew there would be some petrol stations there and perhaps being on the highway, slightly out of town they would have some left. I was wrong again! I was reaching the point of no return. Do I just head towards the haggis, but run the risk of not getting home later, do I just head home and abandon the haggis or do I try and find a petrol station and then do whatever I want.... I of course took the stupid option of heading further out of town in search of petrol and hoping to be the only guy left in Nairobi with a full tank and a smug grin on my face. As I got further out of town towards Kikuyu town I realised I had made a mistake and I needed to head back.. but being on the highway I couldn’t turn round, with the crash barrier dividing the dual carriageway. I was driving further and further away from home with an ever decreasing fuel tank, panic was beginning to set in. Eventually I reached the Kikuyu turn off, which would give me the option of turning round on the highway and going back the way I came, OR heading into Kikuyu town and taking the back routes home but possibly trying just 1 more petrol station that was a bit more remote. So of course I took the risky option of taking the back routes and of course the petrol station was empty too. Now I had a real dilemma, the fuel gauge was only on the last fractions of red on the dial and I was about 30 mins from home. If I took the left road it would be slightly quicker, BUT I would be going through Kawangware slum and I could hit bad traffic and if I ran out of petrol there it would be dangerous, it was getting closer to 6 o’clock and getting dark, that would be dangerous. If I took the righthand road I would be taking longer to get back but going past Karen and work, so I would know more people in the area if I got stuck. This time I took the safer option and went right. Of course I had made another huge mistake! I cruised along slowly trying to be as fuel efficient as possible and then I came closer to the main roundabout at Karen.... WWWWOOOOOOAAAAAHHHHH!! Probably the worst traffic jam I have ever seen in Kenya! The whole roundabout was blocked, no traffic moving anywhere! We were on a slight hill coming down to the roundabout and we were not really moving. I decided to switch off the engine to save fuel.... yes yes I know you use a lot of fuel to start the car etc, but I was desperate and wasn’t sure how long we would be sitting so thought it would be best. The traffic moved a little so my plan... take the hand brake off and roll down the hill slowly... another bad idea. The foot brake and steering don’t really work when the engine is not on and without wanting to break my handbrake I was in another dilemma. I sat there and watched as I got closer to the roundabout that perhaps for us coming from our direction turning back into town would not be so bad, as most people were leaving town. However there were cars, buses, lorries everywhere and what would happen if I got stuck in all that and then ran out of fuel? I had another option I could turn round and take a back road to avoid the roundabout but that would require doing about 3 miles through country roads which would be quiet. I decided to keep going, with me checking my petrol gauge now every 10 seconds (and I do not exaggerate), the needle was barely touching red and I was getting closer to the jam from hell. We got to the roundabout, I put the car in 4 wheel drive and a group of us tried to skirt round the edge to take our simple turn left. People were everywhere, mud was everywhere from the rain, cars were getting stuck, my wheels were slipping and I would have to rev hard sometimes to overcome bumps and holes, knowing that each time I was sucking the fumes out of the petrol tank. The car was surrounded by people and cars but we kept edging further. I could see part of the problem, the main road from town had cars everywhere, literally 6 cars wide, covering every part which made it almost impossible for us coming the other way, but this was happening from each side of the roundabout so thats why it blocked. I spotted on the other side of the road the Shell petrol station, it had just received a tanker full of fuel.. I couldn’t believe it.... so close yet there was a 6 car wide jam between me and the petrol station, there would be no way of getting there. I pressed onwards hoping that with some miracle I could make it home. I was perspiring, heart beating, almost shaking with the stress, I had to get through the Ngong forest without breaking down, that would be very dangerous, it was getting very dark now, as we got closer to town the traffic got worse and we hit another traffic jam. What could I do now??? I was desperate and in a very risky position. I realised I would be passing work and finally resigned that I would park the car there and get a taxi home. At least the car would be safe and I would be safe. I pulled back into work, over 2 hours later having left work, with faces full of surprise greeting me at the gate. I called a taxi and after it eventually came I set off on the journey back to my house which normally takes 15 minutes (20 max). An hour and half later I actually made it home!!! Having left work at 4pm I arrived back at my house at 7:45pm! Exhausted, stressed, relieved. We had a few days without fuel in Kenya, I used taxis for 2 days. There seemed to be some arguments between the ONLY supplier who sells to the marketers such as Shell and Total and with the government. Speculation has arisen that the government was blackmailing the petrol guys for bribes to raise money for their 2012 election campaigns... it seems a very real possibility. Now the fuel guys are taking their own back on the government by refusing to tender for the latest fuel tankers docking at Mombasa. The price of fuel has risen and is expected to run out again in a week or so. I’ve stock piled some fuel at my house this time, so I don’t hit the same problem again. It could all get resolved and we don’t run out, but if it does this time I will keep rolling and I will not miss the chance for some haggis again!
A GOOD DAY TO BE BRITISH – Although that certain Friday was no public holiday here in Kenya, I made the personal decision that being a subject of the Queen it would only be responsible and my duty to take the day off and celebrate in her grandsons wedding. It seems I was not the only person to think the same...South Africans, Germans, Kenyans, Britons, infact almost everyone! I did need to go into work in the morning to deal with a few issues, Peter had not been well overnight and so I wanted to get him checked out at the docs. As I passed the childrens home I walked into the hall and found 4 teenage boys glued to the TV screen watching the pre-match... I mean pre-wedding build up. I asked if they knew what was happening... they answered ‘yes’. I asked if they knew who was getting married...’yes of course’... oh ok, so it seemed the kids at the home wanted to watch it as well. After the visit to the docs, we passed by a supermarket and as we walked round, EVERY TV set had the wedding on, even the security camera TV’s and everyone seemed to be keeping an eye on it. Eventually I dropped the boys off back home. I passed my house to see Will’s and Harry get into their car to head to church and I figured if traffic was ok I would make it to David and Juliets in time for the actual wedding... the pressure was on, could I make it to my venue before the bride! I whizzed through town, traffic not busy and arrived just in time to see Kate jump into her car and head to the church. Feet up, lunch ready, we sat and ate a Salmon lunch whilst watching the wedding of the millennium! The chat for the next few days was wedding, wedding, wedding, even with my friends from other countries.. EVERYONE loved it, the Kenyan press was full of it, and for us Brits there was a real sense of patriotism and pride. This is what we do well... pomp and circumstance... everyone agrees, no one does it better! It was the Disney fairytale wedding, and as they talked about 2 billion viewers, being here in Kenya you could see how that was possible. If it was as big as this here then imagine all the other commonwealth countries and beyond how big it would be globally! An awesome day and a really positive vibe. Colonialism may have brought good and bad to Kenya but there is still that sense of connection with Britain that remains. A very good day to be British!
PRESSURE – So the last few weeks things have been developing with Peter, the 13 year old boy I look after who has cancer. Each week on Thursdays we go to the Nairobi Hospice. He has a neuroblastoma tumour on his forehead which is incurable. Each week his tumour grows bigger and bigger, its almost at the size that even hats are struggling to cover it. The tumour is starting to move down by the side of his right eye and causing it to close. His eyesight is now beginning to fail in that side as the tumour causes pressure. He tends to walk around with the hat covering half his face and he keeps his head bowed. I was heartbroken the other week as we sat with doctor and did some counselling. He confessed that the kids who live around his guardians place, where he stays, call him names and laugh at him, they refer to him as ‘Mango Head’, as he told this, tears rolled down his cheeks. The cruelty of children can be unbelievable sometimes, but I know that they are young and don’t understand. What was positive was that he says the kids at Cheryl’s treat him well, don’t tease him and are supportive. As the tumour grows it is increasing pressure on his brain. We went for a CT scan last week and I could finally see the extent the tumour is growing on the inside of his skull and putting huge pressure on his brain. An Oncologist saw the scan and said he was surprised Peter was still able to walk, stating that the pressure on his brain must be immense and that it could start causing paralysis and parts of his body not to function. In a way it seems to be a miracle he is still able to do so much, and for that we are grateful. The hospice was keen for Peter to come back and stay at Cheryl’s because he could get 24 hour care there, a proper bed and be with his friends. They sent a request to the children’s department and we requested permission to bring him back to cheryl’s. The sad thing is the Childrens Department considered the case and then said it was too dangerous to keep him at Cheryl’s saying if he died there we would come under big scrutiny and examination, the police would be involved etc. So they would not allow him to come back and have now said he is not even allowed to be there during the day. It is UNBELIEVABLE!!! The chances of him dying at Cheryl’s are slim, and even if he did, there is plenty of evidence from the doctors etc of why he would pass away. It seems no-one is thinking of what’s in the best interests of the child, just more about covering people’s backs. It is devastating news and I am not sure what to do now. I do know though that in time we will have to consider nursing home care for Peter, especially in his last days, or if he ends up paralysed. I have already been given information on some places and will hopefully check them out soon. We face tough times ahead, and the pressure is increasing on Peter physically and psychologically. Another tumour is now starting to grow on the other side of his head and I can see Peter starting to wonder what’s happening and losing strength and hope. I’m trying to remain strong for Peter and we continue to work hard for him and trying to provide the care he needs.
ANYONE FOR TENNIS? – In an aid to try and get fit and lose a bit of weight I have tried to do some exercise and for me the best way to exercise is to do it when you don’t really even notice you’re doing it, for example playing games. In Edinburgh for me this was always basketball, a game I love to play. The real desire for going was to have fun with some mates and play games, but the great side affect was it helped you to get fit. Unfortunately I can’t seem to find many basketball players here, although there are courts everywhere, so I began to think, hang on, we are in a hot sunny country (well sunny sometimes) and so why not take the advantage and play some tennis. I suck at tennis, those kids who I used to teach at Rydings School in Zimbabwe will testify to this, being beaten by a 12 year old does hurt your feelings a little. Anyways I suggested it to David and Juliet and they too were keen, and also confessed to sucking at tennis too. Perfect! So for the last few weeks we’ve been playing tennis on Wednesday nights at the Muthaiga Club. Its been great fun, and we all seem to be on the same level in terms of ability. We have been improving, so hopefully that will continue. We will wait to see if it is affecting my weight or fitness levels, but at least we are having fun!
BOOKS GALORE! – So I can finally announce that the library is complete. For months we have been working on this and trying to get it finished. There have been numerous problems on the way but we have overcome them. During the Easter holidays I worked with a small group of kids from the high school age down to primary and we set the whole library up. We labelled the books, put them into age groups, reference sections etc and recorded each book on to the computer. For the kids who helped they were very excited to get chance to use a computer and they did a great job of recording the books into an excel document. We worked very hard for a few days and it was finally done. There are many booked (although we can always use more) which the kids can now access for pleasure or for school work. We have a nice carpet down in the room, with a sofa and rug, its the nicest room in the whole of Cheryls and hopefully it will inspire the kids to read more!
BAAAAAAAAA – At homegroup on Thursday night the subject came up about Mark’s birthday dinner on Sunday. What present should be bought???? Now Mark is a Welshman and of course the obligatory joke about the perfect present being a sheep for a Welshman would be very funny came up. Questions arose about where could you buy a toy sheep as a joke, or a stuffed teddy like sheep. Eventually as we were getting nowhere Ben piped up half joking, half serious, ‘what if we bought him a real sheep?’. Some in the group couldn’t believe he was serious... I loved the idea, how funny would that be, it would be the most legendary present ever, it would go down in history, and here in Kenya going out to buy a sheep would actually be possible. We discussed it some more and the ideas kept growing. Where could we get it? What would we call it? How could we transport it? Could he keep it at his house? What would his wife think? A plan started to come together. Friday a few of us set to the task of finding a sheep. I spoke to people at work and our accountant told me he had a friend from his church who could help, so Friday morning we set off to Kiserian, into the sheep market and began the process of selecting a sheep. There wasn’t much choice but in the end I picked up a black headed sheep. They tied him up and placed him in the back of my car. James sat in the back keeping an eye on him and we headed back to my house. Now the tricky thing at my house was the dogs... not sure if they would be friends with the sheep or not. We unloaded him, the dogs went beserk and so we had to keep them away. We tied him to a post in the garden, on a very long piece of rope and he set about at mowing my lawn. It was probably the nicest, greenest grass he ever tasted. The staff at the house were initially thinking I had brought a sheep home to be slaughtered and shared around, but I had to disappoint them and said it was for a friend’s birthday. The funny thing is that here buying someone a live sheep is not that strange, certainly in Kenyan culture, so although the expats would think we were crazy, the Kenyans thought it made sense! He munched on the grass Friday and Saturday and slept in the store room over night to avoid being attacked by the dogs. Charles washed him and made him really clean and ready to be presented at lunch on Sunday. Now in the initial discussions we decided we would call the sheep ‘Dolly’ after the infamous cloned sheep from Edinburgh. However there was a slight snag... i forgot to check the sex before we bought it and of course I ended up buying a male sheep. Never mind we stuck with Dolly and my friend Anke spent 5 hours on the Saturday embroidering a name badge for the sheep. Sunday came, and Ben picked up Dolly from my house in his Landrover, as I was at church early to lead worship. We had arranged with the security guard at the church which is held at a private school, to tie the sheep up and look after it during church. So we did church and then a group of us waited for Mark and Sue to head to the restaurant for lunch so we would arrive after them. We loaded Dolly up again in the car and headed to the restaurant which was out of town and near the safari park. As we arrived, we realised to get into the restaurant we would have to cross a rope bridge, just like the one from Indiana Jones, and they would see us crossing the bridge and also perhaps Dolly might not want to cross the bridge in the first place. So as Ben went to bring Mark to the car park with all the other birthday lunch guests, the girls tied ribbons and bows onto Dolly, as I kept him calm. It seemed I was dubbed the Sheep Whisperer as I seemed to have the gift of keeping him calm. I stood behind the Landrover with Dolly and everyone came round. Mark’s face was priceless! Utter shock! Not in a million years did he ever expect such a present. The joke went down very well and everyone saw how funny it was. Both Mark and Su loved it. We tied him to the Landrover to munch on the grass in the car park and the Masaai security guard promised to keep an eye on Dolly. During lunch we discussed what they might do with Dolly, mark was thinking BBQ, but Su was desperate to keep Dolly in the garden. The nicest thing was that Mark said it was a great present and said he would never forget it, he commented that he knows when he is an old man, he will be walking down the street one day and have a little chuckle to himself that one day for his birthday in Africa, a bunch of crazy guys bought him a sheep! Currently Dolly.. whose name is slowly changing to Shaun, is residing in mark’s garden, enjoying the grass and the flowers! We will wait to see if Shaun is kept, sold or eaten... watch this space!
WHEN THE TANKS RAN DRY – Over the Royal wedding weekend, when I took the Friday off and the Monday here was a bank holiday I knew I should have filled up my tank with Petrol! Tuesday came, back at work again but in the evening I was invited to someones house for a good old catch up and some delicious haggis flown in from Scotland. I left the office a little early to head across town and decided to pick up some fuel on the way, as the needle was hitting the red section of the dial and the fuel warning light was flickering on. The first petrol station I stopped at... ‘no fuel’.... no problem, its a common tale here, quite often a station runs out and you just head to the next, so thats exactly what I did, reached the next one... ‘no fuel’... ‘oh ok, no problem’... moving on to the next and of course once again .... ‘ no fuel’.... ‘oooohhhhhhh’. By this point I had crossed Waiyaki Way and was getting closer to my destination but the needle was plummeting down the fuel gauge highway towards oblivion. As I approached each station I realised something was very, very wrong! Each one had cars pulling in and pulling straight out, there was no fuel. I called Juliet to say I was trying to find fuel so would be late, she then told me the attendants at a petrol station had told her there is no fuel in Nairobi!!!! WWWWHHHHAAATTTT!!! No fuel at all? That can’t be true. Thinking I was being smart I headed back to the highway and decided to head up the Naivasha Road, as I knew there would be some petrol stations there and perhaps being on the highway, slightly out of town they would have some left. I was wrong again! I was reaching the point of no return. Do I just head towards the haggis, but run the risk of not getting home later, do I just head home and abandon the haggis or do I try and find a petrol station and then do whatever I want.... I of course took the stupid option of heading further out of town in search of petrol and hoping to be the only guy left in Nairobi with a full tank and a smug grin on my face. As I got further out of town towards Kikuyu town I realised I had made a mistake and I needed to head back.. but being on the highway I couldn’t turn round, with the crash barrier dividing the dual carriageway. I was driving further and further away from home with an ever decreasing fuel tank, panic was beginning to set in. Eventually I reached the Kikuyu turn off, which would give me the option of turning round on the highway and going back the way I came, OR heading into Kikuyu town and taking the back routes home but possibly trying just 1 more petrol station that was a bit more remote. So of course I took the risky option of taking the back routes and of course the petrol station was empty too. Now I had a real dilemma, the fuel gauge was only on the last fractions of red on the dial and I was about 30 mins from home. If I took the left road it would be slightly quicker, BUT I would be going through Kawangware slum and I could hit bad traffic and if I ran out of petrol there it would be dangerous, it was getting closer to 6 o’clock and getting dark, that would be dangerous. If I took the righthand road I would be taking longer to get back but going past Karen and work, so I would know more people in the area if I got stuck. This time I took the safer option and went right. Of course I had made another huge mistake! I cruised along slowly trying to be as fuel efficient as possible and then I came closer to the main roundabout at Karen.... WWWWOOOOOOAAAAAHHHHH!! Probably the worst traffic jam I have ever seen in Kenya! The whole roundabout was blocked, no traffic moving anywhere! We were on a slight hill coming down to the roundabout and we were not really moving. I decided to switch off the engine to save fuel.... yes yes I know you use a lot of fuel to start the car etc, but I was desperate and wasn’t sure how long we would be sitting so thought it would be best. The traffic moved a little so my plan... take the hand brake off and roll down the hill slowly... another bad idea. The foot brake and steering don’t really work when the engine is not on and without wanting to break my handbrake I was in another dilemma. I sat there and watched as I got closer to the roundabout that perhaps for us coming from our direction turning back into town would not be so bad, as most people were leaving town. However there were cars, buses, lorries everywhere and what would happen if I got stuck in all that and then ran out of fuel? I had another option I could turn round and take a back road to avoid the roundabout but that would require doing about 3 miles through country roads which would be quiet. I decided to keep going, with me checking my petrol gauge now every 10 seconds (and I do not exaggerate), the needle was barely touching red and I was getting closer to the jam from hell. We got to the roundabout, I put the car in 4 wheel drive and a group of us tried to skirt round the edge to take our simple turn left. People were everywhere, mud was everywhere from the rain, cars were getting stuck, my wheels were slipping and I would have to rev hard sometimes to overcome bumps and holes, knowing that each time I was sucking the fumes out of the petrol tank. The car was surrounded by people and cars but we kept edging further. I could see part of the problem, the main road from town had cars everywhere, literally 6 cars wide, covering every part which made it almost impossible for us coming the other way, but this was happening from each side of the roundabout so thats why it blocked. I spotted on the other side of the road the Shell petrol station, it had just received a tanker full of fuel.. I couldn’t believe it.... so close yet there was a 6 car wide jam between me and the petrol station, there would be no way of getting there. I pressed onwards hoping that with some miracle I could make it home. I was perspiring, heart beating, almost shaking with the stress, I had to get through the Ngong forest without breaking down, that would be very dangerous, it was getting very dark now, as we got closer to town the traffic got worse and we hit another traffic jam. What could I do now??? I was desperate and in a very risky position. I realised I would be passing work and finally resigned that I would park the car there and get a taxi home. At least the car would be safe and I would be safe. I pulled back into work, over 2 hours later having left work, with faces full of surprise greeting me at the gate. I called a taxi and after it eventually came I set off on the journey back to my house which normally takes 15 minutes (20 max). An hour and half later I actually made it home!!! Having left work at 4pm I arrived back at my house at 7:45pm! Exhausted, stressed, relieved. We had a few days without fuel in Kenya, I used taxis for 2 days. There seemed to be some arguments between the ONLY supplier who sells to the marketers such as Shell and Total and with the government. Speculation has arisen that the government was blackmailing the petrol guys for bribes to raise money for their 2012 election campaigns... it seems a very real possibility. Now the fuel guys are taking their own back on the government by refusing to tender for the latest fuel tankers docking at Mombasa. The price of fuel has risen and is expected to run out again in a week or so. I’ve stock piled some fuel at my house this time, so I don’t hit the same problem again. It could all get resolved and we don’t run out, but if it does this time I will keep rolling and I will not miss the chance for some haggis again!
A GOOD DAY TO BE BRITISH – Although that certain Friday was no public holiday here in Kenya, I made the personal decision that being a subject of the Queen it would only be responsible and my duty to take the day off and celebrate in her grandsons wedding. It seems I was not the only person to think the same...South Africans, Germans, Kenyans, Britons, infact almost everyone! I did need to go into work in the morning to deal with a few issues, Peter had not been well overnight and so I wanted to get him checked out at the docs. As I passed the childrens home I walked into the hall and found 4 teenage boys glued to the TV screen watching the pre-match... I mean pre-wedding build up. I asked if they knew what was happening... they answered ‘yes’. I asked if they knew who was getting married...’yes of course’... oh ok, so it seemed the kids at the home wanted to watch it as well. After the visit to the docs, we passed by a supermarket and as we walked round, EVERY TV set had the wedding on, even the security camera TV’s and everyone seemed to be keeping an eye on it. Eventually I dropped the boys off back home. I passed my house to see Will’s and Harry get into their car to head to church and I figured if traffic was ok I would make it to David and Juliets in time for the actual wedding... the pressure was on, could I make it to my venue before the bride! I whizzed through town, traffic not busy and arrived just in time to see Kate jump into her car and head to the church. Feet up, lunch ready, we sat and ate a Salmon lunch whilst watching the wedding of the millennium! The chat for the next few days was wedding, wedding, wedding, even with my friends from other countries.. EVERYONE loved it, the Kenyan press was full of it, and for us Brits there was a real sense of patriotism and pride. This is what we do well... pomp and circumstance... everyone agrees, no one does it better! It was the Disney fairytale wedding, and as they talked about 2 billion viewers, being here in Kenya you could see how that was possible. If it was as big as this here then imagine all the other commonwealth countries and beyond how big it would be globally! An awesome day and a really positive vibe. Colonialism may have brought good and bad to Kenya but there is still that sense of connection with Britain that remains. A very good day to be British!
PRESSURE – So the last few weeks things have been developing with Peter, the 13 year old boy I look after who has cancer. Each week on Thursdays we go to the Nairobi Hospice. He has a neuroblastoma tumour on his forehead which is incurable. Each week his tumour grows bigger and bigger, its almost at the size that even hats are struggling to cover it. The tumour is starting to move down by the side of his right eye and causing it to close. His eyesight is now beginning to fail in that side as the tumour causes pressure. He tends to walk around with the hat covering half his face and he keeps his head bowed. I was heartbroken the other week as we sat with doctor and did some counselling. He confessed that the kids who live around his guardians place, where he stays, call him names and laugh at him, they refer to him as ‘Mango Head’, as he told this, tears rolled down his cheeks. The cruelty of children can be unbelievable sometimes, but I know that they are young and don’t understand. What was positive was that he says the kids at Cheryl’s treat him well, don’t tease him and are supportive. As the tumour grows it is increasing pressure on his brain. We went for a CT scan last week and I could finally see the extent the tumour is growing on the inside of his skull and putting huge pressure on his brain. An Oncologist saw the scan and said he was surprised Peter was still able to walk, stating that the pressure on his brain must be immense and that it could start causing paralysis and parts of his body not to function. In a way it seems to be a miracle he is still able to do so much, and for that we are grateful. The hospice was keen for Peter to come back and stay at Cheryl’s because he could get 24 hour care there, a proper bed and be with his friends. They sent a request to the children’s department and we requested permission to bring him back to cheryl’s. The sad thing is the Childrens Department considered the case and then said it was too dangerous to keep him at Cheryl’s saying if he died there we would come under big scrutiny and examination, the police would be involved etc. So they would not allow him to come back and have now said he is not even allowed to be there during the day. It is UNBELIEVABLE!!! The chances of him dying at Cheryl’s are slim, and even if he did, there is plenty of evidence from the doctors etc of why he would pass away. It seems no-one is thinking of what’s in the best interests of the child, just more about covering people’s backs. It is devastating news and I am not sure what to do now. I do know though that in time we will have to consider nursing home care for Peter, especially in his last days, or if he ends up paralysed. I have already been given information on some places and will hopefully check them out soon. We face tough times ahead, and the pressure is increasing on Peter physically and psychologically. Another tumour is now starting to grow on the other side of his head and I can see Peter starting to wonder what’s happening and losing strength and hope. I’m trying to remain strong for Peter and we continue to work hard for him and trying to provide the care he needs.
ANYONE FOR TENNIS? – In an aid to try and get fit and lose a bit of weight I have tried to do some exercise and for me the best way to exercise is to do it when you don’t really even notice you’re doing it, for example playing games. In Edinburgh for me this was always basketball, a game I love to play. The real desire for going was to have fun with some mates and play games, but the great side affect was it helped you to get fit. Unfortunately I can’t seem to find many basketball players here, although there are courts everywhere, so I began to think, hang on, we are in a hot sunny country (well sunny sometimes) and so why not take the advantage and play some tennis. I suck at tennis, those kids who I used to teach at Rydings School in Zimbabwe will testify to this, being beaten by a 12 year old does hurt your feelings a little. Anyways I suggested it to David and Juliet and they too were keen, and also confessed to sucking at tennis too. Perfect! So for the last few weeks we’ve been playing tennis on Wednesday nights at the Muthaiga Club. Its been great fun, and we all seem to be on the same level in terms of ability. We have been improving, so hopefully that will continue. We will wait to see if it is affecting my weight or fitness levels, but at least we are having fun!
BOOKS GALORE! – So I can finally announce that the library is complete. For months we have been working on this and trying to get it finished. There have been numerous problems on the way but we have overcome them. During the Easter holidays I worked with a small group of kids from the high school age down to primary and we set the whole library up. We labelled the books, put them into age groups, reference sections etc and recorded each book on to the computer. For the kids who helped they were very excited to get chance to use a computer and they did a great job of recording the books into an excel document. We worked very hard for a few days and it was finally done. There are many booked (although we can always use more) which the kids can now access for pleasure or for school work. We have a nice carpet down in the room, with a sofa and rug, its the nicest room in the whole of Cheryls and hopefully it will inspire the kids to read more!
Tuesday, 12 April 2011
COAST.... photos below
GOING COASTAL... – 4:50am the alarm tune starts playing away, my eyes creep open to see the darkness still blacking out the curtains and window frames, turning on the bed side light my eyes scrunch up as though someone is trying to gouge them with their fingers and I need to protect them. It’s time to get up, check the boys are awake, quick shower and then hit the road. I open the bedroom door to walk to the bathroom, via the spare room, knocking gently asking out loud ‘are you awake?’. I open the door to see the light is already on and two smartly dressed boys sitting on their made beds, suitcases nearby ready to leave. A little surprised I congratulate them on their readiness and still eye scrunching I head for a shower to wake me up. James who is helping me on this expedition woke at 4:30am and decided to get the other boys ready. Charles the gardener is busy in the kitchen making hot chai for the boys. I throw on my clothes, gather my bags and head for the kitchen and car to start packing. Outside is an eerie silence not normally associated with the Nairobi city life, it is still early enough that most are in bed, except for the few cars wishing to avoid rush hour traffic and heading to work early. Everyone climbs in, the car is packed, the boys are excited, after a quick prayer for a safe journey we exit the gate, waving goodbye to the house staff and start meandering through the empty city streets. It is not long before we are out on the Mombasa highway and heading south. We are on the Athi Plains just as the sun starts to rise, this is record timing, the journey has now fully begun... 600kms to Watamu on the coast of Kenya. THE REASON WHY? – So what was this trip all about? Well Peter who is now 13 years old has been battling with cancer for almost 18 months now. He has a neuroblastoma on his forehead. Chemo was attempted for 12 months at one of Kenya’s top hospitals, but as the course came to an end, the aggressive tumour came straight back. This left us with the agonising decision of what to do next. In the end, following doctors advice and looking at predicted outcomes it was decided Peter had had enough treatment and discomfort of chemo. It was now time to leave him in God’s hands, barring a miracle Peter will not make it, probably before the end of the year, but timing no one really knows. It was now time to move from investing in Peter’s treatment to investing in Peter’s life and the time he has left. After a quick rallying cry to many supporters money was raised to take Peter on a trip of a lifetime, a week on the Kenyan coast, something that most Kenyans never get to experience in their lifetimes, but what would be considered a middle class holiday for the average westerner. So the road trip party was going to include: Peter, one of his best friends Erico and James who has finished high school and awaiting university who cares for Peter and looks after him, plus myself obviously, the chauffeur, holiday planner, first aider and parental figure. This trip was all about spoiling Peter. WATAM’’S – The resort which gave us a special discount for our trip and were so amazing helping us in making this trip possible was Turtle Bay Beach Club, which is in Watamu, soon to be nicknamed ‘Watam’s’ by the boys. Watam’s is nearly 2 hours drive north of Mombasa on the coastal road. With numerous beach resorts along the coast line Watamu is one of the slightly quieter ones but one of the most glorious beaches. Turtle Bay Beach Club although providing your standard resort type stuff with all inclusiveness somehow manages to retain a family run feel. This place was chosen because it is great for families and being all inclusive meant it would be easy for the boys. So for 6 days the boys where on the coast and it was an interesting time... EYES WIDE OPEN – Walking down the steps towards the lobby, luggage in tow were 3 boys with eyes wide open, gasps of breath, followed by little giggles. The lobby was huge, cold towels brought out to freshen the faces and along with cold juice, it was time to feel like Kings. After dumping the bags in the rooms, with the now constant giggling and shocks of awe we headed down to the vast pool and there at the edge was the white sands of Turtle Bay and the big blue wide expanse of the ocean. Shock and awe was finally defined by the 3 boys. I headed with Peter down to the sea, the other 2 standing slightly back, afraid of the vastness and size of the ocean, seeing waves crashing into the sands for the first time and being intimidated by its power. Peter though, unafraid and craving adventure walked with me down to the edge, barefooted and ready to plant his feet in the ocean for the first time. Although Peter grew up next to lake Victoria, a rather sizable lake connecting the countries of Eastern Africa, the ocean was a whole new ball game, this was big, I mean really big. He slowly placed his feet in the zone where the waves would gently lap up onto the white sands, the luke warm feeling of water rushing in between his toes and over his small feet, this was the Indian ocean, Peter’s first ever ocean. James and Erico stood back and watched in amazement. For firsts, they don’t come much better than this. All I could think of, after all the rubbish that I’ve faced in recent months, was ‘how amazing is this’, it felt like a huge honour and privilege to be there, to witness such joy and wide eyeness. How many oceans have I seen, how many seas have I swam in, from a young age, to me this is just another ocean full of fun and excitement, to the 3 boys this was the edge of the earth, the furthest perhaps to travel in 1 lifetime, miles and miles away from the Nairobi frenzy. It was just time to stand in awe and wonder, who could make something so magical, so powerful and so utterly beautiful as the ocean. BEACH LIFE – There were only a few beach beds by the pool but many on the beach itself right at the hotel, next to thatched rooves and shades. The first morning we selected our patch (which would end up being ours for the week), my plan to be in sight of the pool and the ocean to keep close eye on the boys, with a metal table allowing me to padlock my bag to it and keep the valuables safe. Some beach life educating needed to be undertaken, but was soon abandoned. The boys could not understand... why would you sit all day on a beach bed sleeping when there was a giant pool with crystal clear water and a scary ocean just begging to be explored. So we hit the pool, knowing that I had about 2 and half swimmers in tow. James took to the pool water with ease, Peter strode in with confidence and demonstrated his swimming abilities, basically front crawl, head in the water, powering as hard as he could until he needed to breath again which would required stopping, standing up, wiping his eyes and taking in huge gulps of oxygen, this obviously limited the distance he could swim at any one time. Erico, pretending to be able to swim seemed to wade through the water never really daring to lift his feet off the floor. The swimming pool was huge which about two thirds set a low depth and then a slightly separate deeper end. It soon registered that swimming lessons for Erico would be required. Having been 15 years since getting into the baby pool at Rydings School in Zimbabwe and teaching Gabriel to swim for the house competition I was a little concerned I had forgotten how to teach swimming (although even 15 years ago it had all been made up at the time as well, although Gabriel did eventually swim an entire length of the senior pool with a paddle board, what I genuinely feel as one of my greatest achievements and proudest moments). After about 20 minutes of lessons Erico was free to do his thing and well for the next 5 days he practically lived in the pool, when he was not in the pool he was at a table for lunch, or in the bathroom, or heading down to the ocean and canoeing, or cycling, but at all other times he was in the pool, the least of us at swimming but with the biggest heart for dwelling in the water all day, he was quickly named ‘Erico the fish’. By the end of the trip Erico could swim breast stroke, swim under water and had all the confidence of a child having enjoyed a lifetimes worth of summer holidays. DRESS CODE – So the restaurant was next to the pool and reasonably informal. One thing that concerned me before travelling was the extent to which Peter’s tumour was growing, and his desire to constantly cover it with a hat. We discussed as we headed to the pool that he could keep his hat on if he wanted, but the temptation of splashing around without the care of looking after a hat meant in the pool he was happy without it, there were too many other distractions to bother thinking of what other might see, or think. Outside of the pool though is a different story, with adults starring and looking at us like we were some motley crew, 3 kenyan kids an a white guy, I guess we did kind of stand out. For the first dinner we headed to the restaurant. I knew there was a dress code, I knew hats were not allowed, but while trying to identify some sort of manager the boys where already at the buffet getting food. I gave up looking and just decided to get on with it. Some of the chefs at the buffet had questioned him over the hat, and feeling very protective I wanted to bounce over and tell them to back off in the politest way possible. But when eventually the dress code manager person came over to mention he should remove the hat, slightly embarrassed I stood up and took him to one side, in some attempt to be out of earshot of Peter, to explain to the waiter the situation. No problem, no problem, now it has been explained was the message from the waiter. Still for a few meals from the waiters or chefs not aware of the situation they would say things to Peter and I realised he was being rude in response... not surprising really, in the end I told him if anyone has issues just tell them to speak to me, in my best big brother attitude. After a couple of days though, everyone was used to us, the waiters, chefs and manager guy were all really nice and we were fine. Well how could you not be fine with soooooo much food available. The boys feasted. At times perhaps it was a challenge to find the right food for them at the buffet, particularly as it was tailored mainly to western tastes, but the boys soon found their groove. The most interesting choice they made was breakfast which generally consisted of an omelette with bacon or sausages on bread... bread covered in strawberry jam... each morning it left me delivering a giggle of my own, although that was lost on the boys. ALL BOYS NEED ADVENTURE – bicycles were free to take out, and this was Peter’s biggest wish, to get on a bicycle and go somewhere. We went to try them out, finding bikes the perfect size for the boys... and for me... well it felt like I was on some bmx for an 8 year old. I decided I would manage, having ridden bikes for years in Edinburgh. Helmets were adorned onto the boys heads, somehow managing to get over Peter’s tumour. Obviously being the experienced cyclist and bad rolemodel that believes in ‘do as i say and not as I do’ I decided to fashion a nice baseball cap instead of a helmet, so that I could keep the sun off my forehead and hoping that the protective layer of thin cotten fabric would protect me from any unfortunate tarmac to forehead greetings. Off we went, heading to the centre of Watam’s along a very straight and slightly potholed road. Pain, then some more pain, shortness of breath, sweat pouring down my back, my neck, my forehead, pain, more pain, knees starting to snap under the pressure, yes this bike was indeed far too small for me. Worried I was going too slow I managed to keep in front and lead the way. Watam’s consisted of a bank, a salon, a petrol station, a few little shops and about 3 roads, oh and an Ice Cream parlour. After the first leg of our Tour de Watam’s there was a significant requirement to eat ice cream, so sat around the plastic patio furniture we ate our Italian Ice Creams, satisfied that they were truely earnt, even though we had just gorged on a huge lunch just an hour earlier. 3 very happy cyclists and 1 older guy with a knee broken, head spinning who was pretending to be able to ride a bicycle with some kind of skill. We headed back to the hotel, with Peter who had a HUGE big grin on his face, this had made his day. That was it, I realised we just needed one big thing each day, one thing that he would love and enjoy, beyond the already awesomness of being in the swimming and by the sea, something big that a story could be told from. Canoeing was the order of the day next. As the ocean would leave the Turtle Bay shores to venture on to some foreign beach perhaps in India or somewhere far away, we were left with a big open space to explore fish, crabs and anything we could find. A sand bank would appear in the ocean, and a smooth glass like surface on the water of the lagoon as the waves had moved away to focus their attention on the breaker further out and coral wall with the tide over on that distant shore. Canoes were free for the hotel guests and so we set off paddling. Slightly concerned about the swimming abilities of some of the crew, life jackets were forced upon the 3 boys, again by the overly confident, bad role model adult who clearly didn’t need one. Heading out in 2 canoes we left the shore line for our first adventure into the deep ocean (well slightly deep lagoon, well maybe 5 foot deep lagoon). We reached the sand bank, parked up the canoes safely on the sand, and wondered around the coral to see what we could see. After many small fish, a big green fish, bright red star fish and an octopus we decided to head back. This was to be the first of many adventures in the canoes. PIZZA – If there is one thing that makes a boy smile, its the word ‘Pizza’. Apart from the main restaurant there was also a Pizza restaurant we could go to. Once tasted it was not forgotted, and in some attempt to avoid pizza at every meal I negotiated our way through a week or alternating between the main restaurant and the pizza place. BALANCING ACTS – being a resort type place in the evenings there would be some kind of performance, perhaps a choir, a band, acrobats or a magician. Probably the highlight was the acrobats, about 8 super strong Rasta’s who must spend most of their time in the gym jumping through hoops, climbing massive pools, all balancing on each other and doing flips and flops on some very hard concrete. They had truely remarkable skill. Unfortunately Peter didn’t always make the evening entertainment. It became clear after the first cycle trip and the canoe trip his body couldn’t cope with huge amounts of exercise, he would become very tired, and the headaches had started to really set in more and more. Each day we juggled with doing some fun activities with also time to rest and chill and it wasn’t long before he discovered the purpose of those beach beds. In the evenings I decided it was best he had early nights, to make the most of each day. It was a balancing act between having fun and not pushing him too hard, by the end we had it down to a tee (or is that tea, I’m not sure?). AEROBICS AND OTHER POOL ACTION – The pool was generally a casual area, with kids and adults all messing around. At around 11am each morning the music would come on, blasting through some huge speakers and for a brief moment you questioned yourself and where you actually where. Was this a beach resort in Kenya a or cheesy nightclub in the UK pumping out Rihanna with possibly the worst DJ in the world who only liked listening to songs for approximately 30 seconds at a time before moving on to the next. James and Erico decided to join in on the first day, yes it was time for water aerobics. 2 young Kenyan boys amongst a whole bunch of white Kenyans, Europeans and Americans. It was hilarious as in the water dancing began. Photos would never do justice but a good time was truely had by all. Later in the afternoon was water polo. On day 1 I ended up taking the position of goalie, which wasn’t so much fun, particularly as the slightly aggressive British guys decided to take it a little too seriously and felt being a big guy it was fair to stand 1 metre in front of my face and throw the ball as hard as possible into my face. My purpose for being there was to try and include as many of the kids playing as possible and also to keep an eye on Peter and the boys, making sure these over eager adults were careful with the boy, who by visibility alone was clearly in need of being taken on gently by any would be attacker. My days at water polo were limited, in fact 1 match was enough, but for the other days the boys continued to play and for Peter scoring goals was a particular treat he managed to enjoy quite a few times. Towards the end of the trip, about 3 evenings in a row, as the sun began to lower in the sky, the shade moving across the pool, the hotel guests slowly starting to depart from their day at the beach and heading to rooms to freshen up for dinner, I was in the pool with Erico and a British boy, a similar age to Erico. We hardly spoke the 3 of us, but for probably over half an hour each evening we threw the polo ball to each other, sometimes deliberately splashing each other, sometimes just trying to do spectacular catches and sometimes just enjoying the simple pleasure of throwing and catching a ball. We did occasionally say some things and talk and I discovered this young lad was here with his family, but was the youngest, didn’t really have anyone to play with and was from Wales. I loved it, here was this young lad from the UK, on his annual family holiday, with Erico a young orphan from the slums of Kenya both in the pool throwing a ball to each other, simply as equals, simply as two young lads just having fun. For me it was just another pleasure to be part of. DHOW (NOT REFERENCING HOMER SIMPSON)– On the last day at the resort I booked a special treat for the boys, a trip on a Dhow (a traditional sail boat used to transport goods up and down the coast). It was a sundowner trip, down the local creek, with cocktails and bitings. Normally the boat could take up to 35 people, but on that day only 8 of us had booked, so we had the boat to ourselves. We cruised down the creek, drinking yummy cocktails (non-alcoholic for us) and ate plenty. Probably the best part was the plate of breaded king sized prawns which was left for myself and a British guy to finish off as no one else seemed to like prawns. YUMMY! THE HOLIDAY THINGS – So when you’re on holiday you write postcards, you use your pocket money to buy souvenirs and both of these were enacted by the boys. Through the generosity of so many people I was able to give the boys pocket money to spend in the hotel shop. In the cool air conditioned atmosphere of the hotel shop the boys perused the shelves and items until decisions were finally made and hats and t shirts were purchased, soon to be worn by the newly graduated tourists. Post cards were written to the doctors and people at the Nairobi Hospice who have been helping take care of Peter and also to Cheryls, to bring sunny coastal greetings to all the staff and kids. LEAVING – The day finally came where it was time to hit the road again, it was greeted with much sadness and an almost unbelievable notion that such a holiday could end. But the treats were not over and a brief stop at Mombasa city brought in a tour of the famous Fort Jesus, something studied at school along with a passing by of the massive (fake) elephant tusks that cover the road in the middle of the city and represent the iconic image of Mombasa, something often seen on TV but again for non-coastal Kenyans, hardly ever seen. Heading back up the highway an overnight stop was held at Maneaters Camp, as one of the few guests we pretty much had the place to ourselves. The swimming pool was tiny in comparison to Watam’s but presented an excellent size for playing tig in the water. The camp is situated at the famous area where Colonel Patterson killed man eating lions who terrorised the workers building the rail road through Africa, watch ‘The Ghost and the Darkness’ film for the gory details! The following day it was time for the long tarmac road back to the big smoke of Nairobi, putting the sunny coastal region further and further behind us and arriving back in the cooler climate of Nairobi. The adventure was over, but would be played over and over again in the minds of the 3 young Kenyan boys. A trip to be truly remembered until the day you die, whether that be this year or in 60 years, it was a really blessing, something to be treasured and never forgotten something that helped to put life into a young boys days, whose days may be numbered.
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