Dear friends and supporters,

As in previous years, my sister, Margreth, and my brother-in-law, Urs, spent a month with me in the Kalahari. Since they are ex-teachers and are both fluent in English, they are a great help to our daycare: they bring new ideas, give valuable advice and stimulate the teachers and the children, who all are very fond of them.

Upon her return, Margreth wrote a sort of journal, a summary of their experience and of their impressions at the children’s home. Here is what they had to say:

Thursday, 17 September, 2010, 3pm: arrival in Maun, Botswana after 24hrs of travel Cecilia and her colleague, Maryna, come to pick us up at the airport. All the passengers have retrieved their luggage, except for Urs! Perhaps in a few days they will tell us that it arrived; if not, we are simply unlucky. We have absolutely no time to lose, and so we immediately head out to the Kalahari, since the drive takes about 3-4 hours, and we would like to be close to home at sunset. The trans-Kalahari highway is completely straight, on its sides you can sometimes glimpse a few huts with some goats grazing, and after a while there is only savannah.

It is now spring in the Kalahari. On many shrubs and plants delicate pink, white, purple and yellow flowers are budding. It’s incredible! It is by far drier and dustier than the winter period of July and August.

We make a short stop under an enormous baobab tree that we greet as an old friend. I scratch myself as soon as I put a foot down on the Kalahari: all the shrubs, even those with the most delicate flowers, have long and dangerous thorns.

The trip continues into the evening. A warthog crosses the road in front of us and two ostriches search for food on the roadside.

Another stop, this time at the checkpoint for foot and mouth disease. I have to take all the shoes out of my suitcase and place them on a small carpet soaked in disinfectant; then the car passes through a pool filled with disinfectant. Then, finally, we are on our way again. It is 5pm: slowly, the light changes and immerses everything in a faint pink glow. Then at 6:30pm we are witness to a perfect African sunset: bright red sun, and then a sky that fades from orange to pink to violet. It is all so beautiful, like a postcard! Now we take the small dirt road the leads to the welcoming centre, and three dogs run toward us. Tentu, the assistant gardener, left the gate open, and Maryna is now giving him a good scolding.

It takes another half an hour to get to Cecilia’s house, and the ride is bumpy and slow. We have to pay attention: wild animals are out and going to the watering hole. Finally, after 30 hours of travel, we arrive at our destination, happy but dead tired.

Monday at the welcoming centre

7.30 am, departure for the Centre. A zebra crosses our path.

8:00 am, the school bus is already there. About 90 children are sitting cross-legged in the dining hall with their bowl of pudding. Outside, it’s still very cold.

8:30am, Songs and games in the courtyard with two teachers. Another four workers are washing plates and cleaning the dining hall.

Today, Cecilia and I are redoing the children’s wardrobe for the upcoming Christmas party. It’s quite a lot of work, since each child receives a complete summer wardrobe. While the children try on the clothes, we take those that are a bit too dirty, have an injury somewhere or suffer from mushrooms, and take them to Felicia at the infirmary. There, they are first of all washed and then “medicated”.

A girl, in particular, strikes us. She is extremely thin and does not look well. We immediately start her on a vitamin-based treatment and keep her under observation. In case there is no improvement, Cecilia will have to ask the family for permission to check the girl for HIV. It is a thorny question, and often families deny authorisation.

In the meantime, Urs is going around to the classes, and compiling an inventory of the whiteboards that need to be re-varnished and of the walls that need paint touch-ups. Then he practices walking with stilts, along with two children from the oldest class in the daycare. Henri, a cheeky boy, is very talented and learns quickly.

For today, that’s enough! We have “dressed” 52 children, but we still have to go to Ghanzi to buy four pairs of sandals for children with very long feet.

1:00 pm, Lunch time. The heat is crazy. All the children are seated with their plates in the shade of a big tree. Today, the menu offers mashed pumpkin, beef liver and cabbage. The hunger that compels the children to empty their plates always leaves me speechless.

2:00 pm, Nap time. All the children go back to their cool classrooms and lie down on the small mattresses, and in a matter of minutes, they are already fast asleep. After the nap, they play again in the courtyard.

In Cecilia’s small car we head home on a bumpy road. It is certainly over 30 degrees. We are very tired. Fortunately, dinner is already prepared, and we only need to heat it up. After a short nap, Cecilia is already on the computer answering emails and writing letters for long-distance adoptions. I write up my journal and Urs washes the dishes and cleans up the kitchen.

6:00 pm, It starts to get dark: it is sunset, and also the time that mosquitoes come out. Today it was extremely hot, and they will certainly launch their attacks. We use mosquito repellant first for the rooms and then for the skin.

7:00 pm, Night sets in and the silence is absolute. In the distance, we can hear the “laughter” of the jackals, while we settle down with a good book.

The drizzleThank God tonight was the first rainfall and there was a light drizzle! Here people say that the heat is easier to bear after the small rains, until the big rains come in December.

The morning is cooler and it rains. Already during the night, some shrubs became green.

We find ourselves at the Centre for the morning sing-a-long. Who is that beanpole singing in the last row? Kaahse is back! Kaahse is Kgamse’s brother, and they come from the most miserable hut in all of D’Kar: alcoholic grandparents with five nephews and nieces, orphans, without a mother. Kaahse is 9 years old, and should be in school in D’Kar. It is already the third time that he runs away and goes out to wander. Cecilia caught him in the street and wanted to bring him back to school, but the principal told her: “The school already started ten days ago. We can no longer accept him. He should come back next year.” And so it is that Kaahse is back at the Welcoming Centre.

Full of joy, he sings, dances and learns with the other children. Today, he received his new summer clothes. He looked at Cecilia with a radiant face and told her, “Than you, Ouma!”

Dabe, the little Bushman

Cecilia went to see him two months ago at the cattle station: he lives with his great-grandparents who are pastoralists. Dabe was one of the first children welcomed at the Centre: he was brought here directly from the hospital since he was a premature baby. His mother went into a coma during the third month of pregnancy due to AIDS, and passed away immediately following the birth. As if by miracle, Dabe was HIV negative, and managed to survive at the centre thanks to the 24-hour help of the local women. When Dabe turned 3 years old, a teacher at the daycare managed to track down his family. A Bushman great-grandfather, who was a very respectable man, and his wife came one day to see their great-grandson. Dabe immediately sat on their laps, and from that first moment he finally felt at home.

Now he lives with his great-grandparents in the bush, his natural environment. He sits proudly in the Bushman taxi (a small wagon pulled by four donkeys), next to his great-grandfather, and holds the reins: he’s in charge! This is how Cecilia and Felicia, the Centre’s nurse, found him that last time they visited him: he’s a very lucky child, and a happy mischievous youngster! Felicia brought him chicken (his favourite dish when he was at the Centre) and Cecilia brought him some clothes and shoes for the summer. Since January, Dabe has been going to primary school.

Mom’s buttons

Last year, Cecilia started a small project for women. Three times a week, the school bus also brings four women from D’Kar (two mothers, one grandmother and one foster mother for our children), who learn how to

sew both by hand and on a machine – first one with a pedal and then an electric one. At the moment, they are crafting beautiful tapestries, various bags and aprons. However, they are still at the beginning and there are many things yet to learn, step by step; and to think that in the beginning these women did not even know how to hold a needle! Cecilia cuts the fabric to size and sews the button holes herself. This will be the next sewing lesson! And where there are button holes you need buttons: it will be necessary to learn how to sew them too.

And so I am dragged into the class by my sister, and made to sew buttons, detestable and boring work that I’ve treid to avoid since childhood. But now that I’m seated here, I sew a button onto every apron with infinite patience. I sew on buttons from who knows how many decades ago, buttons from mom’s box! And while I sew in silence and full of dedication, I see my mother laughing from under her mustache, and telling me: “For God our Lord sewing buttons is as beautiful as building cathedrals!” We put the aprons in our suitcases; they are coming with us to Europe, where they will be sold in Italy and Switzerland. For the first time in their lives, these four Bushman women will be able to earn some money! As for the buttons: I want to thank all the women from Luino (VA) who gave us beautiful buttons.

Khosiame! (Good-bye!) Our stay is finally coming to a close, and our four weeks here have really flown by. At the SPAR (supermarked) in Ghanzi, we buy 150 muffins for the good-bye party, and bring them to the Centre in cauliflower crates (there are no sweet boxes). At 11am today there will be a special snack: everyone likes sweets, adults and children. While the smallest children (barely 3 years old) have trouble finishing their cake, the local women, who are already corpulent, are on their second serving and waiting with impatience to see if there will be yet another!

With some sadness, Urs and I cast a final glance at the crowd of happy and good humoured children. At the employees’ table everyone is craning their necks and huddling together talking. Then Felicia, the nurse, gets up, approaches us and says, “On behalf of all of us, I would like to than you and all the benefactors in Europe for all that you do for us and our children.” We are deeply moved. Until now, it was not part of the custom here for locals to thank white people. Even in this respect, there has been progress! With a smile and a tear we hug our African brothers and sisters, and we say good-bye to the children with a wave of the hand before getting into the car and driving off, honking, for the last time. Khosiame! Margreth and Urs Mühlemann, October 2010

With infinte gratitude and affection,

Cecilia