4 May 1997

    One minor irritation of shopping in Bulawayo
    is the number of young boys who hang
    around the streets begging.  Dressed in rags
    and dirty from playing in the dust, they are
    mostly good natured and never cause
    trouble.  

    One of them, Josh, struck up a conversation
    with us outside the Access Supermarket as
    we waited for a taxi.  About nine years old and a real charmer, Josh said he spent his nights sleeping in shop doorways because his parents had abandoned him.  He wanted money for bread. 

The Chronicle tries to discourage giving to beggars on the grounds that there are a number of charitable organisations to care for them and also provide some education.  It also says that most street kids, as they are known, have homes to go to and are not abandoned as they pretend to be.  Giving encourages them to stay on the streets where they are exposed to many dangers, among them sexual abuse by middle-aged white men.

Soon, two more waifs appeared - a boy roughly the same age as Josh and a little girl about seven years old.  They also said they'd been deserted, adding that they were desperate to go to school so they could get a good job and live normal lives.  We took them into the Supermarket and bought bread, cold meat and bananas which they devoured with great relish.  We promised to help find them a safe place to stay and arranged to meet them again the following day.

It’s the beginning of winter and very cold at night, so by the time we were tucked up in bed, we had visions of the children huddled together in a shop doorway, cold, hungry, and unloved.  We almost convinced ourselves we should have brought them home for a warm bath and a nourishing meal.  Our imaginations were working overtime.  We even briefly considered adopting one of them!

Next morning we rushed into work and explained the problem to a lady in the council Social Services department.  She didn't seem at all alarmed by the children’s’ plight and put us in touch with Andrew Sexton, a young Australian social worker with the Scripture Union.  He arranged to meet us with the children at the supermarket after work.

Andrew knew them all very well.  He explained that most street kids have blind parents who send them into the city to beg.  None sleep in doorways and nearly all go to school, even though parents must find the money for school fees and uniforms.

Sometimes, modest financial assistance is all that’s required to take them off the streets.  In other cases, when parents don’t care about schooling, the Scripture Union attempts to persuade the parent or guardian to give the child the chance of a better future through regular schooling.  Naturally, God is also called upon to help.

One boy, Singingpilo, has inherited an eye problem and Andrew suggested we buy him some spectacles and pay for an operation.  The operation has been arranged for August but there's nothing to pay.  We also agreed to pay for another boy, Effort, to go to a boarding school (about £100 a term).  First he must be persuaded to go - then a school must be found that will agree to take him.  Head teachers are reluctant to take anyone who has missed as much schooling as Effort.  He will have to join a class of much younger children and could be a bad influence on them.
 
We once saw Effort in an angry confrontation with the police outside City Hall.  He might get into bigger trouble unless something is done to change his ways.

Andrew also mentioned that many children can be helped directly with shoes, socks and jerseys and that some would be better off with rural relatives if given the bus fare to get there.  We gave him some money to buy wool and pay some mothers to knit school jerseys with it.  Two birds with one stone!  At last, some positive developments to ease our frustrations.

  19 May 1997

   During our lunch break today, Andrew Sexton took
   us to Ross Camp Primary School to meet the
   headmaster.  Andrew has  managed to get some of
   the street kids into this school and wanted us to
   see at first hand how we might help.

   Ross Camp is the living quarters for a large number of policemen and women, complete with sports facilities and a school.  Although the site has a pleasant open aspect, the living conditions are quite dreadful.  The terraced houses are meant for single officers, but wives, husbands and children stay there too.  Each house has only one room, usually containing a large fridge standing by the open door.  Small children play on the bare earth, while their mothers wash clothes in plastic bowls in a kind of rockery outside the door.

The school grounds are neat and tidy with flowerbeds, a vegetable garden, and a few large trees to provide shade.  Single-storey classrooms skirt a rectangular playground, and could do with some new furniture and a fresh coat of paint.  In the staff room, teachers prepare lesson material on battered typewriters and an ancient duplicating machine, but that doesn’t appear to stop them doing a good job.  The pass rate for the end of year exams is displayed on a notice board outside the head’s office.

We were invited to meet a class.  All the children stood smartly to attention and gave us a "Good Afternoon".  They sit two, or sometimes three, to a bench either side of a table, sharing textbooks, and writing neatly in their square-ruled exercise books.  Andrew thought the conditions were terrible, but we recognised them as similar to those of our own childhood.

The school building program can’t keep up with the expanding population, so most schools operate a hot seating system.  The first shift begins at 7.30 and finishes at 1.00.  The second shift starts at 11.00 and ends at 3.30.  During the crossover period, lessons are held outside, under the shade of a tree, a pleasant though not always conducive atmosphere for learning.

The head, a little intimidating in his police uniform, showed us into his tiny office.  We explained that we wanted to offer the school some modest financial assistance.  Without any hesitation, he said he needs extra desks and benches and lots more textbooks.  Also some of the poorest children need lunches to take the edge off the hunger pangs that distract them from their work.  We need to know how much these things cost, but have promised to provide food for at least ten children.  The police kitchens nearby can be used for cooking.

9 June 1997

Things have moved forward at Ross Camp School.  We have agreed to provide lunches for twelve needy children.  The menu will consist mostly of maize with a ‘relish’ of baked beans, tinned tomato, corned beef or kapenta (a dried freshwater sardine).  It will cost us about £15 a month.  Unfortunately, the police canteen can’t do the cooking, so we’ve bought an electric stove, cooking pots, plates and cutlery for meals to be prepared on the school premises.  A small group of parents will take turns to cook and wash up, and will be rewarded with a free lunch.