As I entered the school, there were a couple of particularly adorable girls aged about 4 years old, and being the big softie of the group, I ran to pick them up. I did a bit of ‘airplane’ with them both, and they lapped it up. Just as I had won their confidence and was about to introduce them to the dangers of the reverse-sweep on a bouncy pitch, both children were swiftly led away by an unimpressed matron – clearly an advocate of the dark arts.
I’m always keen for the kids to have a bat, as the magic of feeling bat on ball for the first time is unbeatable for these children. Luckily, most of these kids seemed to have a grasp for the basics, and were the most enthusiastic so far. It seemed a shame to bore them with fielding drills and a lesson in how to bowl, so we took the plunge and went straight into a game of Kwik Cricket.
Usually we tend to be wary of playing a full game with just one coach and around 50 kids, due to the huge downtime for the inactive children. However, my rudimentary Swahili provided just enough encouragement –simple things, like dividing the teams into ‘Team Simba’ and ‘Team Mamba’ are excellent in providing the kids with a sense of identity and belonging, no matter how fleeting. Another 40 kids appeared out of nowhere, and we had a ‘Team Cheetah’. One hour later, the kids still craved more, but sadly, our time was up.
As we were winding up and gathering the kids around another one of David ‘The Squirrel’ Odiji’s rousing speeches, lo and behold, the same pair of 4 year old girls found me! This was faintly remarkable itself, as they were the youngest and shortest in a crowd of hundreds.
One of the two girls seemed fascinated by me, but remained totally shy. She would hang around my feet, trying to avoid any eye contact, but still craving some affecting. Eventually, she grabbed my leg and refused to let go. I looked into her eyes, and finally I saw it. The look of despair; the look of helplessness. Her eyes were welling up, and so were mine.
The child’s name is SheillaMbone ,and she is an HIV orphan. Speaking further with her teacher, I learned that Sheilla’s aunt is a prostitute.
Tracey, Essex’s very own Mother Teresa, immediately fell in love with Sheilla, and wouldn’t let go. In a fortnight where we have seen some desperate children in desperate situations, Sheilla’s story had an impact on all of us. We hear of these situations time and again, but to be confronted with the reality of it all was overwhelming.
