When worlds collide

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At this time of year, the weather is hot, but occasionally the heat of the sun is blocked a bit by a passing dust storm. One morning, I woke to a red glow that seemed more suited to Mars. Even brief periods outside fill your eyes, mouth and ears with fine red dust, and anything lying around outside is covered in a red coat within minutes. On clearer evenings we escaped to the roof to listen to the call to prayer and watch the moon rise – spectacular on full moons, and quite spiritual if you’re drinking the right spirits.

To celebrate the arrival of summer and 40 plus degree days, we donned black ties for a ball. Only the Brits would think dinner suits were the go in summer. Among other things, the ball was held to raise money for a local orphanage which catered for children with one parent, and it assistes them to stay in their home environment rather than go to an institution. The money was in part raised by a surcharge on drinks, and it was heartening to see people drink excessively for the benefit of the children. Nanna was the driving force behind raising the money, and a card on each table noted the surcharge for the orphanage, and suggested that if anyone had a problem with that, they should raise it with Nanna. A nice thought. Personally, I think you’re safer being the bad guy in a Steven Seagal movie than provoking Nanna on this issue.

The theme of the ball was ‘James Bond’ and for an evening we indulged in the quasi-glamorous life of gambling, partying and decent dining. Many of the blokes clearly wished they were James Bond types. And it was even more evident that the women wished we were, however they were polite enough to disguise their disappointment.

We met the children from the orphanage in the garden of a politician, Safia. Safia is a remarkable person who does a lot for the less-well-off around here. There were games, a magician and presents for the kids. I saw one little girl sitting towards the back, smiling at the kids bouncing along on those rubber balls with handles. There were spills and laughs, and I’m sure she would have liked to take her turn, but it required two hands and she was missing the lower part of her right arm.

One of the locals who watches my back, a friend more than a colleague, introduced me to a friend of his family who happened to be there – a little girl whose legs were twisted and useless. She wanted to shake hands, and then didn’t seem inclined to let go. Her smile was huge, like her personality. Another little boy, whose legs were also damaged, was carried by his mother to get a toy. He was fully half the size of his mother, but she carried him with the ease that comes with love and endless practice.

Brave little smiles are haunting. Luckily we’re in a position to help, and I’m sure their company in the future will be one of the highlights of my time here.

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