So what happened in Africa?

It has been a long time since I have blogged here. There just haven't been enough hours in the day. But I have been itching to share what we got up to in Africa, how it went, the difference it has made to our family and to say another massive thank you to everyone who helped us get there with their kind donations.

In short, since losing Neil, I have never felt so alive as the time we spent with our fellow volunteers and the youngsters we met. Here's our story:


Watching my daughter Melissa set off to walk four miles carrying a bed for a nine-year-old orphaned African girl who slept among rats on the floor, I cried big fat tears of pride.

We were doing this in Neil's memory. I hope that one day there will be an element of our involvement that I can put his name to as a lasting reminder for all to see of his decency and compassion.
I find it amazing that such an unassuming, modest group of people should make such a difference and honoured to be allowed to walk alongside them. It's hard for me to imagine that mothers have so little that their newborns are sent away from hospital wrapped in newspaper but mind-blowing to consider women in my village are easing this burden.

Melissa trekked for hours along a dirt path to deliver the bed we had built together, while me and her sister Emily carried another to its new, less faraway but equally dilapidated home.

We were in a remote South African community fittingly called Share, in a region called Bush Buck Ridge.

Our mission was to start to help some of the continent’s poorest children. These youngsters had lost one or both parents to HIV and Aids or were devastated by a more sudden death.

Now they lived with their grandmothers, themselves often child-like through the effects of trauma, or a toxic combination of no education and deteriorating faculties.

As young brothers and sisters woke to the sight of their parents’ crudely etched graves in the heat and dust outside their bedroom window, facing hours of chores, there was little time to be a child.

We were helping a dedicated team of local women offer the children hope, through food, education and healthcare, with a small charity called Hands atWork.

The amazing women caring for these children – bringing them one simple meal a day -- and attempting to mend fragmented families had very few material possessions. But driven by a deep faith, they brought love by the bucket load. Each day their voices filled the air with soulful songs of celebration, giving thanks for the community.

The tiny British charity taking us there is called Link4Life – inspired by an aim of forging long-standing meaningful, relationships, working together over a lifetime to bring real improvements.

They asked us to put together beds for 12 children of the 50 they are able to help from their centre, and to help build a ‘long drop’ toilet so little girls and boys no longer had to crouch behind the centre’s walls.

We were part of a 14-strong team throwing ourselves into the tasks with aplomb. Colleagues from Link4Life had already painted the centre, set up a fence and embedded colourful tyres as play equipment.

In these still bleak surroundings, I was upset by the scale of deprivation. Yet my wise fellow team members could see how things were improving and thankful for the steps taken so far.

Our job was to cuddle the children, to play with them and show them love. We were not there to pity or point and say: “Oh how poor they are.”

There was no international marketing fanfare to throw Western money at these children  and impose our own solutions, we were there to listen to what they genuinely needed. Each day we listened and got on with it.

But they were also helping mend us.

My tears came not only from pride but from waves of understanding and grief. My beautiful brave girls getting blisters carrying the beds and laughing with the children in the playground, understood their heartbreak. They had lost their dad, my gorgeous husband Neil, just over a year before we found ourselves in Share.

The care workers and our companions from our local village community of Cheslyn Hay in Staffordshire told us they would be thinking and praying for us too, that we needed their love.

Having spent months attempting to come to terms with our grief and facing the future without Neil, to meet so many bereaved children and see the pain in their eyes was a cathartic and humbling experience, especially when their care workers recognised the same agony in us. Yet as we witnessed the difference we were making, since losing Neil, I had never felt so alive.

The reason behind our visit was uncomplicated -- to meet the children, be at their side and help tell their stories.

As the three of us made a hash of sweeping a grandmother’s yard during a home visit, he would have laughed fondly as she tutted and told us to do it again.

We also had the opportunity to visit a hospital in Durban, where babies are now sent home clothed, rather than in newspaper, thanks to a group of knitters, some of whom are just streets from where we live. This is the Baby Bear project.

As I helped hand over freshly knitted clothes to women in the last stages or of pregnancy or hours after they gave birth, I sat and chatted with a young mum of newborn twins. Rosie, 25, from a nearby village, who told me she would name one of her daughters after me.

Again, the tears flowed. This time I was crying with joy.


At a banana plantation where an international team of nurses ran a basic health clinic, I held a young girl’s hand while she underwent traumatic treatment to Impetigo on her head.

The festering lesions on Virginia’s scalp remained agonising as her aunt had refused to give her the medication needed. Now the sores were so serious, they were being cut out with a blade. There was little pain relief. As I sat and held her fingers in mine, urging her to squeeze my hand to take the pain away, she was so unused to anyone showing her such basic care, she didn’t know what to do and her wrists remained limp, her hands dangling as she screamed in pain. I will never forget Virginia, I ran to our van to get her some boiled sweets so she could somehow benefit from a sugar rush and take her mind off the stinging blade.

I’m not a religious person but could not fail to be moved by the dedication of those who used their beliefs as a reason to roll up their sleeves to see their hands at work among such need. Nobody was preaching,just getting on and helping in desperate circumstances. Perhaps the most moving part of our visit was spending a Sunday morning at a church built from sticks, with fabric oddments adorning the makeshift walls as underfed children in their best dresses sang hymns beautifully. Outside they played with toys fashioned from bits of old wire. It was heartbreaking but uplifting at the same time – you couldn’t help but be in awe of these children’s spirit.

My colleagues from the UK church said they felt God was there that morning. I couldn’t disagree, but Neil was there too I told them. Now, as I reflect on our time in Africa, my tears have given way to renewed commitment to help girls like Virginia.  There has been guilt since we returned as we squabble over which pudding to buy in the supermarket or which reality TV shocker we are going to settle down in front of. We don’t know we are born.

Still, my tears have given way to smiles as I think of the children we helped, including my own and a new little girl called Linda. 

We have a link for life.

How you can help

The Baby Bear project is looking for more knitters. Please leave a comment here if you can spare the time to get involved and possibly help clothe newborn babies or email me on linaitchison(at)gmail.com.

A direct debit of £15 a month feeds one child at Share. Please visit www.edscouriers.co.uk/ for more information. 

I've also included a Donate button in the top right hand corner of this blog to help me send money in a monthly direct debit. 

 

Dear bloggers, I'd love your help

Since losing Neil I've slunk away from life. I used to feel that I was part of a lovely online community of parent bloggers but lately my presence has been sporadic and jumbled. I really haven't shared much online about how we've been doing -- give or take the few posts here.

As well as doing my best to get through everything that has been thrown at us and sorting out all a lone parent needs to get on with, I've been hiding. I have watched Homes under the Hammer and Pointless until I can tell within seconds of the opening credits whether it's a repeat. The same goes unfortunately for the Millionaire Matchmaker. Did I really just say that out loud?

I've had lots of ideas about things I would love to do, stuff I would love to write, but I haven't quite got there.

Now I am finding my focus again. It's just two and a bit weeks until we head to Africa and I would like to throw myself hook, line and sinker back into the parent blogging community and ask for help.

Here's what we are up to:

In loving memory: our visit to to South Africa


Please can you help?

Here are three ways you can:

You could donate

I still need sponsorship to help fund our journey. I've been carbooting (is that a word?) and eBaying (that can't be) like mad to pull money in and am hugely grateful for donations from all the kind individuals who have contributed so far.

But I wouldn't be giving it my best shot if I didn't make one last shout out for support. Thank you so very much if you can donate, it really is appreciated. There is no minimum amount, every little helps. Thank you so much.

You could send me some old clothes

Seriously. Do you have any old stuff that you just don't need any more that you have been thinking about recycling but not got around to it? I will very happily take it off your hands -- whether it's for kids or adults. Please email me (linaitchison at gmail dot com) if you would like to send me even just a single garment, and I will send you my address. I can make use of these, taking some over to Africa, as we can leave the clothes behind when we come home, or by taking them to Cash for Clothes before we go to help fund the charity. If you email me, I can explain more. Thank you!

You could buy a copy of my book on freelance writing at a knock down price

I'm selling a small number of my book, called Freelance writing, straightforward advice from a woman who knows (such a modest title, I know, I know) for just £7 to include postage and packaging. The RRP is £9.99. If you would like one, please click on the donate button and when you get through to the actual donation part, add a little note that you would like one of the books. Or please email me after you have donated to let me know you would like a book -- thanks a million.

It would also be wonderful if you could look out for my posts when I'm back and help share the children's stories.

Thanks so much for reading.

In loving memory: Our visit to South Africa

Thabo, Believe and Tholiwe. Photo from 2012 Link 4 Life project. 

In July this year, Melissa, Emily and I are heading for a remote area of South Africa, called Bush Buck Ridge. While there, we will meet children orphaned by HIV and Aids and help care workers who look after them day to day.

The reason behind our visit is uncomplicated -- to meet the children, be at their side and help tell their stories.

This is designed to be a lasting connection. There's no big charity fanfare, no massive building project, no international marketing effort, just the prospect of helping. You can imagine how much that appeals.

Each day, we will be guided by a team of care workers to let us know what needs doing and we will get on with it.

Experience of previous visits has shown that this is likely to be helping feed the children or washing clothes, plus a load of other straightforward tasks to lighten their day.

Me, Melissa and Emily have also been set the task of listening to a child's story and helping share it. It's as simple as that. And as someone whose life has been largely taken up by telling stories, it's a role I relish.

I'm doing this in Neil's memory. I hope that one day, maybe not this year, but one day, there will be an element of our involvement, that I can put his name to as a lasting reminder for all to see of his decency and compassion. It's such a cliche, but I know he would like that.

We're members of a 12-strong group travelling to meet and help the children, under a project called Link 4 Life, helping charities called Hands at Work, Mercy Air and the Baby Bear Project.

Our stay comes days apart from a visit from my children's school, where older pupils, plus teachers, will also contribute.

Fellow team members have been so very kind to us, assuring us that our presence is special and that we will bring with us an empathy for children who have lost a parent. That makes me feel useful.
 
There's also an opportunity to visit a hospital in one of the country's poorest areas, where babies are now sent home clothed, rather than in newspaper, thanks to a group of knitters, some of whom are just streets from where we live. This is the Baby Bear project.

I find it amazing that such an unassuming, modest group of people should make such a difference and honoured to be allowed to walk alongside them. It's hard for me to imagine that mothers have so little that their newborns are sent away from hospital wrapped in newspaper but amazing to consider women in my village are easing this burden.

There's a yearly commitment for contact and support with the people in this part of South Africa from the Staffordshire villages of Great Wyrley and Cheslyn Hay. Some people come from our local churches, where we have been sporadic visitors over the years, some from business and some from schools. The aim is to forge longstanding links that will build to bring fruitful relationships.

Already young people from Cheslyn Hay and Great Wyrley are spending longer periods in the community to complete much-needed practical tasks.

Neil and me first heard of Link 4 Life in 2009. We were both interested in taking part, as we worked together from our offices on voluntary publicity material for local media about the project, led by local vicar Richard Westwood.

We looked forward to a day when our girls may be able to join a school group and chatted about how realistic a possibility either or both of us getting involved could be.

Richard was always hugely grateful for our help with fundraising and publicity and I don't think there was ever a time we spoke that he didn't tell me that. As non church-goers our paths didn't cross that often but we kept in touch to follow the progress of Link 4 Life.

And then, in the blur of all that has happened, Richard became a remarkable source of support -- for Neil, me and our wider family.

He married us in January and just months later, led Neil's funeral.

He spent time with us in our most desperate hours in a hospital room.

I can't remember when exactly the idea was mooted that the three of us should join Link 4 Life this year, but it was Melissa's idea and we have stuck at it.

So this has become our "thing", a focus for us to work towards. In our grief and shock, our commitment hasn't lessened. I'm not as far forward as I would have liked to have been with officialdom to do with the visit but I'm catching up now the best I can.


How you can help

I would like to ask for your help if I may, and this is connected with fundraising towards our trip. My daughters have plans of their own with the help of classmates and teachers.

I have £637 from the wonderful journalists' community at JournoBiz and we even went and packed bags at Asda. (I never thought I'd see the day.) We lasted at least an hour.

But now I need to step up my fundraising efforts. I'm going to self publish a book of short stories if enough people are interested, to help, and hope to tap into my lovely works colleagues' expertise for more ideas on generating some cash. The stories are a bit rude (as in earthy humour) and have been received well.

In the meantime, I have set up a donate button on this blog. I know that times are very, very tough for people, but if you would like to help me do this in Neil's memory, I would really appreciate any amount, however small, you can send my way.

You just need to click on the donate button and you will be taken through how to make a secure payment.

The button is here and also in the top right of the blog:

If you'd like to help but would prefer to send me a cheque, please email me linaitchison@gmail[dot]com and I will reply with my postal address.

Please also email me if you are interested in knowing more about the form my book of short stories will take.

This will be put towards airfare for the three of us. Should there be enough funds raised, more money will go towards local feeding programmes.

Thank you for reading.

Sec Ed feature on helping bereaved pupils

Thank you to everyone who replied and offered their insights about helping bereaved children at secondary school.

The resulting piece is published today and you can read it here.

I'm pleased to have been able to contribute this feature and hope that it can help raise awareness of how grief isn't a straightforward journey for teenagers.

Thanks for reading.

Helping bereaved children at school

I'm working on a feature for a teachers' magazine about how staff can help pupils whose mum or dad has died. The wonderful charity Winston's Wish reports that this happens to 22,000 youngsters every year in the UK - that's one every 22 minutes.

Support available varies from school to school. Heartbreaking stories abound about how a lack of support and understanding can add to children's anguish. One little boy at primary school whose solider dad was killed in Afghanistan was refused permission to take in his medal, because it was feared it would upset his classmates.

At parents' evening I was taken aback when a teacher began to tell me he felt one of my daughters was 'letting herself down' by not concentrating fully in lessons recently. As this came around a month after Neil  died, I had no hesitation in butting in and telling him that as far as I was concerned, her getting out of bed and making it to school was enough of an achievement for me and cough, she most certainly wasn't "letting herself down".

"My mum rocks," she announced later and for once I took a compliment. I felt it was important for me to politely say to the teacher "let me stop you there," and important that my daughters saw me do that too. I'm affected by an inability to concentrate much four months on so the thought of them being reprimanded for that so early on was upsetting.

But overall I have to say that my family's experience of help at school has been hugely positive. Both my daughters' form tutors, their head of year and their headteacher have been very supportive, patient and understanding. 

Their on-going support and readiness to work with others has really made a difference and brought me genuine peace of mind that my daughters continue to find school a lovely place.

But it's such a shame that the support available is so variable at a time of such agony and can have a profound and far-reaching effect on the lives of so many children. Teachers need to be aware of the unique needs of bereaved children and recognise the challenges they may bring to the classroom, learning about how best to respond to them. That's where training from Winston's Wish can be so vital. 

Have you got an example you can share of how your children were treated at school when they had lost someone so very close? (This isn't for the purposes of my article, I'd just love to hear from other parents about their experiences as I'd love to see it discussed more.) 

I'd welcome any comments on this, named or anonymous and would like to possibly use the responses in a future blog post to help others. Thank you for reading. 

  

Children and bereavement: Families share their stories

This week I wrote a piece for Parentdish about how to help bereaved children grieve.

It wasn't an easy piece to pitch, write or see published. It gives a glimpse into how we are all facing up to things in the hope of helping others.

I once worked on a project involving research on how to support bereaved children.

As it's not online, I thought I would rewrite and edit it, as well as adding in some bloggers' wisdom.

This is a much longer version of some of the information included in the Parentdish piece.

Carrying grief with you

Of course, just like adults, no two children are the same when it comes to how they handle  bereavement.
I discovered that experts - and by that I mean bereaved people, will tell you that you don't 'get over' grief, you carry it with you and learn to live with it, day by day.
And while for adults and children alike that acceptance takes time, for children it also takes longer to understand what has happened.

Their understanding, reaction and on-going grief will also be further influenced by their age.
Joanne Mallon, also then from Parentdish, wrote this excellent post about how to talk to your children about death after Michael Jackson died. It's a great starting point and I'd strongly agree that Michael Rosen's Sad Book is a must-read for any child who has lost someone dear.

Stories of loss
Joanne's own brother died when she was nine.

I asked her how she remembered him.

She said: "My son's middle name is Jonathan. He looks very like him, but we have to remember that Isaac is his own person. I often talk to my children about Jonathan, what he was like - partly to remember him and also to give them some insight into disability.

"They talk about him - and their other relatives who've died - as angels, all together. My daughter writes little letters and prayers to him and we have a photo of me and Jonathan in the living room. I only go to his grave very rarely - his grave is in a cemetery in Belfast (right next to those of the IRA hunger strikers). I find graves very depressing. "

Karen, whose dad died when she was nine, said: "For children,  death is understood in terms of what it means to them, so if someone they love has died, it means they won’t see that person again and that makes them sad.

"It’s what made me cry when mum broke the news, and when I cried over the next few weeks and months it was always accompanied by the phrase ‘I miss Daddy’.

“I don’t think children are scared by death at all, certainly not in my experience.

"In fact I’m still not scared by death and I think that’s because it’s been openly talked about and experienced in my family – my mum’s sister died within a year of my dad, and my dad’s father too.

“We can forget how literal children are. As adults we understand implied meaning, but children may not always –

"Daddy’s gone away is a really unhelpful way of saying ‘Daddy’s dead’.
“I always joked that the highlights of not having a dad was that I never had to run my boyfriends past him, but in truth I so desperately wish I had had a dad."

A Mum Shaped Hole

You may know my lovely friend Laura from her blog Are We nearly There Yet Mummy.
But have you ever read what she calls her 'more serious' blog, A Mum Shaped Hole?
She says: “My mum died when I was nine, this is me trying to make sense of that. I am now 30 and I still struggle without her. The only way I can describe it is like having A Mum Shaped Hole in my life.”

Here’s an extract from a post, about how Laura's mum would treasure her grandchildren.

Would she think they look like me?
Would she admire my handsome boy all snails, scooters and bold adventure?
Would she smile at my beautiful girl all bossy and hands on hips smelling of apples and willful charm?
Would her heart melt when they called her name?
Would she be my shoulder to cry on when life is tough?
Would we laugh so hard that tears would fall?
I wish they had known her, and I for longer
I wish she was here
I miss my mum.

Laura told me: "I feel regret that my grief has affected my life in so many ways. Immediately afterwards was strange. Although she had been ill for two years I had no idea she was going to die. Although, subconsciously, maybe I did - as I remember being told off for humming the Funeral March one day.

"From my dad and sister's point of view it was a huge relief that Mum's suffering had ended. I come from a family where we laugh a lot and don't really discuss feelings openly and I think although I was encouraged to grieve, I was also encouraged to think about the good times.

"I now realise that I use humour as a coping mechanism and don't face things properly. The family motto is 'laugh in the face of adversity'!

"Even growing up I can remember getting cold sweats if the subject of mums came up and would rather avoid the conversation than talk about it and have people feeling sorry for me.

"It's only now that I can openly discuss my Mum and rather than feel embarrassed, feel proud of her.
"I became very clingy towards my dad and just wanted to be with him all the time.

"Since having my own children,  my relationship with my grief has changed. Because I didn't have many memories of my mum as a child I felt a bit detached from her.

"But when I had the children and experienced the love that she too must have felt I felt more of a connection.

"I had a long period where I felt so incredibly sad and I still feel panic sometimes when I think that one day something may happen to me and my children will be left without a mother. "

Insomniac Mummy also wrote hauntingly of the death of her mother, who died 30 years ago. To this day, she says, she doesn't know what happened to her ashes or if she has a memorial stone. Look at the comments too, to see not only how bloggers can rally round each other, but also how many stories of loss are yet to be shared.

Then, Insomniac Mummy wrote about her lovely Grandma. 
Englishmum often remembers her friend C and how proud her daughter would now make her.

Single Parent Dad

Another blogger writing movingly about his own experience of grief and that of his adorable son Max, is  Ian at Single Parent Dad.
Ian's wife Samantha died suddenly in 2005, when Max was a baby.

In a recent post about 'grief triggers' Ian says:
My boy understands why too, I do not like keeping things from him, he deserves the truth, however hard it is.

But last week was the first time it upset him.

I explained in the morning, what was ‘significant’ about the day, and while that was not a grief trigger for me, it certainly was for the boy.

While heartbreaking to witness, I was also immensely proud of my son. Proud because he had moved to such a level, gaining a better understanding of his loss, and able to show his emotion for it.

There was plenty of reassurance and cuddling, and we spoke about his mom, and how it was now. While she has physically gone, she will always be part of him, and gave him the best possible start in the world.

Is honesty the best policy when talking to children about bereavement?

Here’s what Cruse says:
In general, honesty is the best policy. However, there are also other considerations. When we talk to children about death we need to speak in language that they can understand. Also for some children we may let them know something about the death and share more information later when they are able to take it in.
“When we explain to a child about a death we may need to repeat what we say. We also need to be able to answer their questions.

"Also all family members need to be saying the same thing so the child does not become confused. It is also a good idea to let the child’s school know what you have said to the child.”

Bereavement counsellor Dodie Graves, from Wolverhampton's Compton Hospice, adds: “Because children can’t always express their emotions easily, understanding how they are dealing with grief can be difficult. It is common for children to want to be strong for their family, and it can be difficult for them to know who to turn to when they need support.

“Families’ bereavement support workers talk to children one-to- one, and with their families, to help them work together through their shared grief.

“They use puppets, games and art to help children express their feelings, and special memory jars and memory boxes to remember the person they’ve lost.

“They can also support families in learning how to communicate better together.”
Winston’s Wish (www.winstonswish.org.uk) has in-depth guidance for anyone wanting to help a bereaved child.

A gradual understanding

Parenting expert Sue Atkins stresses that it’s important to remember that children will not behave like adults.
It sounds obvious, but can be overlooked in these sad circumstances.
She says: “Children's understanding of death comes gradually.”

Sue's article on bereavement discusses how children of different ages may understand about death and grieve.
She says that from about nine years, most children will have an adult view of death, although this will depend on their development and maturity and their past experiences of death.

The best way of understanding what children think and feel about death is to listen carefully and to talk gently with them and be guided by them.

Many parents feel that childhood is a time free from difficulties and challenging events but in reality this just isn’t the case- but it’s how you handle the challenges that makes your children grow up well balanced, resilient and strong -able to handle the blows life deals them.

Sue adds: “It’s perfectly natural to cry in front of your children - if you explain what you are feeling."

What children going through loss need:
• Information
• Companionship
• Time to express their emotions
• Time to remember.
I’m very grateful to Sue for allowing me to use this information. She's a mum to two teenagers and a former deputy head teacher. She's also the author of Raising Happy Children for Dummies. Find out more at www.positive-parents.com


Where to find help:

Winston's Wish Helpline: 0845 203 0405 (Mon-Fri 9-5pm) Childhood Bereavement Network Tel: 0115 911 8070 Child Bereavement Trust
Tel: 01494 446648 (General)
0845 357 1000 (Information/support line)

Cruse
Helpline: 0844 477 9400
Road for you – part of Cruse helping young people: www.rd4u.org.uk

Compassionate Friends
Helpline: 0845 123 2304


Books you may find helpful


*If you would like to share a story of bereavement or offer any advice to families facing the darkest of times, please do leave a comment and let us know any links to posts you think may be helpful.

* A version of this post was published on an earlier blog.

* Some of the comments with useful information, that were originally added, will also appear under this post.