I will always remember one little boy. His eyes were those of one who had no voice, no joy, and no hope. I shook his hand in greeting. His hand was limp. There were other children who looked like he did. Some smiled and mugged for the camera and were eager to see the image on the digital camera. Someone pointed out later, that as soon we left, the look of hopelessness returned
Most of the huts are made from hand made bricks that are not kiln dried. These bricks will wash away during the heavy rains of the rainy season. While I was off doing something else, someone from our group looked in one of the huts. There was nothing in it. Nothing. Think of all that we have in America that we think are essential to our lives. To see nothing in their huts, not even a change of clothes or a sleeping mat is a haunting image.
The roof of the pre–school has holes in it. It will cost $200 to fix the roof. This is a drop in the bucket by American standards, but an astronomical cost by Malawian standards.
The water source was not a well or bore hole with a hand–powered pump that I have seen in our travels. It was a hole in the ground with water. Water that is not safe to drink. The volunteers working with the pre–school boil the water before the children drink the water in the pre–school, and use it to make porridge for the little ones. But what of those in the village, what do they do? I doubt that they boil the water. I suspect that the women fetch the water and use it as is. At least the women do not have far to go for the water. Perhaps a three–minute walk from most of the village. But that is very small comfort.
The little kids are dirty, and many look sick. There is no water to wash with.
The toilet is a hole in the ground, literally. At least there is a shack around the hole.
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