We Can Die Without Food - Sinethemba Aftercare

We can die without food. One little girl tells me, her face very serious. That’s a fact. We know it. They don’t, really. On this wall, it’s a statement, a slogan, a cry for help, a prayer, but it’s also part of life.  SINETEMBA means HOPE

"Safety and security don't just happen; they result from collective consensus and public investment. We owe our children, the most vulnerable citizens in our society, a life free from violence and fear." — Nelson Mandela, former President of South Africa.

In one of the poorest and most disadvantaged townships in our town, Zweletemba, a few generous people are trying to make a difference by providing young children with a bowl of food and a haven after school. A collection of salvaged containers forms a small “laager” in an unused section of the VUSISISWE SECONDARY SCHOOL's backyard. 80-130 children attend the Creche daily (classes run from Grd R to Grd 5).

Brightly painted by the children, two of these containers serve as after-care classrooms, while a third has been converted into a kitchen. Plans are underway to utilise two more containers for older children and a computer lab. In this neighbourhood, the garden tap might be the only water source for many households.

Dedicated teachers and volunteers make and distribute helpings of delicious bean stew in brightly coloured plastic bowls. On an average day, 210 children receive their only meal here. Many children voluntarily stay for the afternoon, where three or four teachers supervise them. The littlies play and work at their tables in a calm, peaceful environment where they’re safe and loved.  Meals are served from Monday to Friday.

Upon my arrival at the school, I could hear joyous laughter ringing from the classrooms and the small quadrangle where bright children play on the swings and jungle gyms. My camera was a delight, and posing for a few pictures was a thrill. No choreography was needed; they knew how to pose, and the coolest, smoothest moves were on show.

On another street, a couple of blocks away, Dudu prepares a large pot of bean stew; here, children are welcome, but must bring their own bowls. There must’ve been at least 50 children crowded into the small space all having lunch.  All the while, children kept coming; some lingered, but for some it was a matter of getting a “take-away”.  I'm pretty sure the portion will be divided at home too.

Marie arrives, and there’s pure mayhem: a bonnet of girls (they reminded me of bees, all abuzz) clamber into her car. By my reckoning, at least 15 managed to squeeze themselves into the small space and were patiently waiting for her to finish up before being transported to the after-care centre where they’ll spend the rest of the afternoon. I could only shake my head.  Thank goodness the cops have bigger fish to fry in this neck of the woods and hopefully the traffic dept will turn a blind eye!

Once again, I was touched by the friendly, carefree smiles, the gratitude, and the eagerness to learn and please. I was overwhelmed by the generosity of our community, businesses, and retirees, who gave freely of their time, resources, and talents. People who really wish to make a difference. This is a cause where it’s hard not to put your money where your mouth is. Who can resist these beautiful children who are like sponges just waiting to be drenched with knowledge, love and a commitment to nurture them? But, first, they need their tummies filled. Without which they’ll be lost. They will die, maybe not physically but most certainly emotionally. Their hunger is multi-faceted; I look into their eyes and can’t begin to imagine what hardships they endure, uncomplainingly, daily.

Humbling, uplifting, and thankful-these words come to mind when I think of the community's efforts at Sinethemba Aftercare. Your dedication and generosity give these children the chance to thrive. Your support is vital; each act of kindness fills their tummies and hearts, empowering them to overcome hardship and build resilience.

Unfortunately, unlike many other countries, we do not have sufficient resources; we lack systems to support the poorest of the poor. Many of the children come from single-parent homes; some are AIDS orphans being cared for by relatives; the majority of their parents are unemployed and survive on meagre child allowances. I’m sure some of these children suffer greatly, as drug and alcohol abuse, physical and sexual abuse, and domestic violence are rife. None of us can begin to know or comprehend their circumstances, yet there is SINETEMBA - hope.

Here, one experiences the true meaning of UBUNTU (Ubuntu is an ancient African word meaning ‘humanity to others’. It also means ‘I am what I am because of who we all are’).

Thank you, Marie, for inviting me along and for stepping me out of my boring comfort zone to experience this remarkable project—this child of your heart who keeps you up at night. Your passion, drive, commitment, kindness and free spirit give hundreds of children wings to fly.

I know you and your team of sponsors, volunteers, teachers and cooks worry, fret, plan and do the sums. I can’t imagine you not being able to carry on today, tomorrow, next year and the next. It must happen, and I have faith it will. As the ocean is made up of drops, so your work makes the world of difference to the lives of these children, to our community, and to our precious country.

If you are touched by this project and would like to help in any way please contact:

"It's the greatest poverty to decide that a child must die so that you may live as you wish."
— Mother Teresa, Roman Catholic nun

“The Flat-Tummy Fweeps –

Now, the Fat-Tummy Fweeps had full tummies of food,
And the Flat-Tummy Fweeps had eyes that were glued
To the chowderly chow that could brighten their mood,
Which they had none of, and so were subdued.

Their tummies, you see, made noises at night,
which is why the Flat-Tummies knew no delight.

And, without any food, the Flat-Tummy Fweeps
Would sag, sigh and dream of ripe orange zeeps.
With their snoots on the ground, snoot-snootin’ around
They’d cope, and they'd hope for the end of parched throats.

As the Fat Tummy Fweeps ate their butter and toast
While drinking clean water and wearing warm coats,
They’d ask lots of questions, take copious notes,
Then give the poor Fweeps a boatload of totes.
“Totes would be nice. Totes would be grand,”
Said the Flat-Tummy Fweeps, “if they came with green ham.”
‘Tis the end of poverty — what a wonderful thing!
Then all the Fweep children would wipe away frowns
To laugh with each other on Flozzle playgrounds.
They’d swing and they’d sing and they’d dance in a ring,
‘Tis the end of poverty — what a wonderful thing!”

Copied from: http://www.compassion.com/poverty/dr-seuss-flat-tummy-fweeps.htm 

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ROLL CALL:

NEWS FLASH FROM MARIE: "We have started the crèche project- 60 pre-schoolers get collected and dropped off at 6 different crèches every day-we pay for the transport and the crèche fees. Seems as if it is going to be a great success."