Deaf kids…what? Huh?

Any white face in an all African community is always going to attract attention. But, at an African primary school, new arrivals are like magnets for the curious. And practically every child is curious about you. "Mzungu! Mzungu! How are you? What is your name? I am fine", all comes out in one breathless voice.

When you first arrive on a Monday morning, the truck that brings you is surrounded by kids and you quickly learn that "mzungu" is the term used for the white man. Why bother with your name, when they have a ready made name for you? More often that not, a white face is a chance to put into practice what they have been taught. But the deaf kids can't do that. They need to attract your attention to communicate with you. They tend to do most of it by sign language. And a whole lot of facial expression! If you can't see them signing, then you can't hold a conversation.

But make no mistake. Deaf does not mean silent. All the deaf kids had fully developed vocal cords. And some of these kids used them to good effect! No one else around you can hear, so what's the problem? Each volunteer was given a sign name. Some defining physical facial characteristic was pointed out, "discussed" at length between the group deciding the name, and that was that. You were known as your sign name. Each person had one. If you were in their sphere of interaction, you got yourself a name. Take a flat hand and make as if to shade your eyes from the sun (for those in the UK, when the bright sun is but a myth and only seen on travel shows, imagine your eyes needing shading : )), then sweep that hand over and down the back of your head. That was my sign name. Yes, it highlighted the fact that I had a solar panel….for my sex machine!

Ing's name was taken from her how she wore her hair. Take your hands and make as if to make two hand guys. Just like when children do when they play cowboys and indians. Now take those "barrels" and touch the middle of your forehead at the start of your hairline. Then take those barrels and draw them down your face to where they are level with your eyes. That was Ing's name. Of course, everybody had their real name, but you can't keep signing it out in sign alphabet each time you wanted their attention! When the kids wanted your attention, it was a screech/shout/grunt/similar noise (if they were further away) or they would grab your arm or sleeve to get your attention. It doesn't take long before you recognise what sounds belong to who and what it means.

These kids were kids. Just like any other, but they were deaf. And like any kids that you are surrounded by, you know by the sounds that they make whether they are happy/scared/in pain/terrified/upset.If only it was so simple. To survive in Uganda, you need to really fit in with the group. Anything that marks you out as different is a reason to either accept you. Or reject you. A leader of a group is marked out as different, but that leadership is accepted. If you have a disability, you are rejected. You are not thrown out to fend for yourself. But just socially rejected. In the case of the deaf kids, why should anybody bother to learn sign language when they all have problems of their own? Because the hearing people for the most part don't bother to learn the language, and the only thing they hear is the sounds they make, it is immediately assumed that these people are stupid, or mad! Once a preconception is made, it becomes incredibly difficult to change anything that follows. Without real social acceptance, life becomes that much harder. And life in Uganda is tough enough as it is. Unfortunately, the future for these kids is bleak. Even at the school assemblly, the headmistress and teachers couldn't be bothered to help the deaf teacher translate for the kids. Why bother when you have 500 hearing kids and only 20 deaf kids. What a way to teach tolerance. Because of their position, and their assumed intelligence and education, they would have thought better and done more. Unfortunately not. When the leaders can't bothered, followers aren't either. Because of their social status, particularly in school, these kids have banded together. Especially the boarders. Far from home and not much to anchor themselves in life by, means that the ten boarders were incredibly loyal to each other. And fiercely protective of each other. If one had a sweet, they rushed off to find the others, bring them back and point out that this one, and that one, hadn't had one yet. And don't give to the hearing kids! I have yet to see that selflessness in a group of children anywhere else! But like any group, they had their squabbles and fights. Kids will be kids. It is just that these guys just have a few more challenges than most to deal with.

Spending the four weeks at the school, and then spending so much time with the deaf boarders, it was impossible not to take them into your hearts and try and give them something back. Especially when you see what they have got for themselves. The boarders all have one tin chest and in it is all their worldly possesions. Two shorts and t-shirts, some socks, a jersey or two, a plastic carrier bag for a belt for a pair of school shorts made for a front row forward, a pair of shoes and some odd little trinkets. And that was that. Every thing else was but a dream. But giving back was not just material things, we tried to give back a little LOVE, spelt T.I.M.E.

African children are generally demure and respectful around adults and give their counsel and keep their distance from you. But the more they know you, the closer they get. Until they are touching you, holding hands and clinging on. What child, no matter how old, likes a hug and the closeness this conveys? It was fantastic to "give this sort of thing" back! But you never appreciate what you might have in your little world until you make a comparison with somebody else. They might have more; they might have less. But it gives you an anchor, a bearing, a frame of reference, boundaries if you like.

After work, play and showers and before supper and bed, I was the boaders' doctor. Out come the medical kit (or the pharmacy as it was nicknamed from the Camino) and wonderment never ceased. Sticky fingers started to make their way into all the nooks and crannies. Not to steal, but to gaze and feel and speculate what all these things are, might do. When your world has barely anything in it, then anything outside of it, is completely amazing. In your house, I bet that there is a box somewhere where all those needles, threads, buttons, safety pins and other sewing thingie bits graviate to. It is something that is taken for granted; just part and parcel of your household landscape. Here that would be considered a luxury. A luxury beyond measure! So it was with pleasure that my needles and thread made its way to Victoria to help mend the rags that these kids wore. How could we walk away and not go and buy two new sets of clothes for them? Gratitude through their smiles and eyes could never be described! If there was ever a place where dignity and fierce understated pride did not need pomp, ceremony, uniforms, parades and pageants to exist, then it was here in these deaf boarders and the other kids. Their kind smiles and gentle eyes were beautiful beyond description. And their spirits indomintable and something we could definite learn a thing or two from.

Who they were

We nicknamed one of the deaf little 5 year olds HAVOC. This is what he was. Those before us said that he probably had ADAH. Even his teachers thought that he had something wrong with him. One teacher said that his mother thought he was mental. Ing and I just thought he needed a little, ok, a lot of attention! He was one that needed plenty of stimulation. He was bright and very quick to pick up on things. One volunteer used a skipping rope to keep fit. And every night he was at it. A week later, after we got some rope to do the same ourselves, HAVOC asked to have a go. And off he went! Quick as a flash. Running and skipping with not a single bit of help from us! But the real tradgey is that he can't sign properly and communicate with those around him. What normal 5 year old can communicate properly? And because he is very bright, he gets bored very easily. With little stimualtion, and the inability to communicate, frustration is quick to express itself. He loved nothing better than to play, or help. If we were not playing with him, then he was working away. Show him once, and leave him to it. Like everybody in the world, he loved a lot of praise delivered. Who likes nothing better than to be needed? With well deserved praised heaped on him, his eyes would just sparkle with pleasure and gratitude! And slowly the manic energy would dissipate away to more normal levels! He was a jewel of a child! He was also the strongest child I have ever come across. Most people struggle to carry a 25 litre jerry can of water. HAVOC stood with the jerry can between his legs, gripped the handle, picked it up enough to shuffle it along. Believe me when I say that fully grown adults couldn't do that! A real whirlwind of energy that, thankfully, slept 12 hours a night! But Havoc was not the only one to capture our hearts here.

There was Jug Ears (Paul), Smiley (Henry), Serious (Paulie with his crippled leg) and the girls. Victoria, their teacher and boarding house mistress, was completely and utterly selfless. It was very rarely that we saw her take time for herself. She even taught us sign language late into the flame lit night when all the children had gone to sleep! Imagine how tired you would be if you had all the 20 or so deaf kids were in one classroom. Imagine being one teacher and then imagine trying to teach and control 20 kids who are from 5 to 17 years old? Teach them all different things all at the same time. Exhausting. Victoria did it with a smile!

Little Paulie has suffered terribly. He was knocked down by a matatu when he was three. And the accident left him with a crippled right leg. Stand on your two feet, shoulder width apart. Lift your heel off the floor and swing it outwards to the right. Now try to run on the ball of your foot. Or actaully do anything physical. Tough, eh? This kid was tough. He gave as good as he got, and he did it all with grace and humility. When you saw him smile, you felt that you were looking at an angel. He was nothing if not good natured and extremely soft and gentle. He and Havoc were best buddies. Havoc was Yin. Paulie was Yang.

Henry had a very cheeky sense of humour and was always the first to try things out. He also decided to appoint himself as my "batman". When things needed a doing, he and I did it together. Also very bright with an extremely cheeky grin to match! Old Jugears, or Wingnut, had ears that stuck out. But a lovely demeanour. He always seemed to have a slightly crestfallen look. As if he knew that the future was a tough place to be. He seemed wise and old long before his time. When the smile came, and often did, you couldn't help but smile too. His was infectious!

The plan of action was simple. Because all the deaf kids are all in the same classroom and will stay there until they leave or go to secondary school, we decided to have them "mark their territory". We painted their hands and had them print it against the door. A very simple gesture of ownership. Jacci (another volunteer) galvanised us all into throwing a little after school cake and coke party too! With nothing but some home made cake, some coke and fanta and a whole lot of balloons, it seemed as if every celebration had come all at once!

Pleasure is watching a child have the time of their lives! But boys being boys, and a little younger, just wanted to play. What it was just didn't matter. Girls being girls, they were more interested in nail polish, clothes, and other girlie-things like gossip. Playing with the boys was completely below them. Sniff sniff. But they joined in from time to time! At the party, they had a blast and gave as good as they got!