The sound I heard as we turned off the track and headed in amongst the sugar canes, was joyful laughter. When we came in view of the homestead in a clearing, we saw a group of children under the shade of a mango tree, doing a mountain of washing up in a series of plastic bowls.
It was 2005, and I was accompanying Jerim Ogi – a teacher from the Smith Children’s Centre in Western Kenya – on a home visit. One of the children hadn’t turned up for school, and Jerim was calling round to see that all was well.
With curiosity, the children watched as Ruth led us into the house. One by one they sidled in and sat on the floor. The house was large and airy, but almost devoid of furniture. Jerim explained that Ruth’s husband had died of fever and in the last few days of his life he had needed drugs so urgently that she had to sell almost all their furniture.
Ruth is a subsistence farmer and earns a little extra cash from weeding the sugar cane fields. She looks after four children belonging to her late sister who died of AIDS, and is guardian to another three who have no family at all. She has her own children too, Lucy (13) and Androck (6), who are both albinos. In a country which straddles the equator, this has to be drawing a short straw. Lucy, being older, was more sensible about keeping out of the sun, but little Androck had a mass of blisters and sores from sunburn. His daily rough and tumble life didn’t permit seeking shade. Someone had given him a hat last year but it had got lost, so even his head with its tight little blond curls was full of scabs. They had never heard of suncream and even if they had, they wouldn’t have been able to afford it.
Since returning to the UK, I have been able to obtain a donation of a large supply of suncream from a drugs company. Hopefully, together with some hats and sunglasses, these simple items will make two children’s lives at least a little more comfortable.
Although outside the direct remit of the HATW project I was involved with, it is this small personal association that is so rewarding. To have had the opportunity to make a difference in just two lives is a real privilege.