Farewell Bana Ba Metsi

It upsets me just to even write the title of this post, how has it been almost a year already? I remember it like yesterday when Me and Tim were sitting out on the back of the three ton truck on our way to Bana Ba Metsi for the first time, and tomorrow I will be leaving for the the very last. 

I simply do not want to go, I do not want to say goodbye to anyone, especially the students. I remember being in hospital after the accident when the general consensus was that my year was over. With my injuries so severe many thought that I would not be able to recover quickly enough to return.

But I knew it was wrong, because every night when I went to sleep I dreamed about coming home to Bana Ba Metsi; where I would be working everyday with Children who's lives I was truly having an impact on. The place where you are only 200 meters away from staring out over the Okavango to watch an amazing sunset, day after day without fail. The place where you can stare out in wonder every single night at the Milky Way, beautiful Botswana, the driving force behind my recovery. 

But I guess all good things must come to an end at some point, right? Although it is sad to say goodbye to all the amazing people I have met at this school, whether they be staff or students, I can be happy in the fact that I am a better person for having met them. Saying goodbye is always hard, but we were lucky enough to spend our last few days participating in a zonal sports meet, our last few days with the boys were spent playing sports, what a blessing.

The football team played well but unfortunately got knocked out in the semis, and the volleyball team went unbeaten through the whole competition. Although as most things go in Botswana the organisation of the meet was horrendous, but we had fun with the boys all the same, a nice ending to our time with the boys. On our goodbyes to the boys I was also able to make a few very happy, and converted four into Man U fans, if everything we did here was for nothing, it was worth it just for that.

From now I only have about 6 weeks left in Africa, our plan now is to go and see the Vic falls in Zimbabwe. All before heading south towards Swaziland to meet other Project Volunteers, feel like I deserve a nice 5 weeks just to enjoy life after the chaos of the the first four months of this year. But I'm also hoping that we can help out at other Projects on our way.

End of term

My time is quickly coming to a close at Bana Ba Metsi, with just less than a week left of school before we say our goodbyes to the boys. The boys are currently sitting end of term exams which means that my teaching duties are over.

Although I have not been back at the school long, I have been working almost everyday with select boys who are struggling the most with reading, writing and mathematics. It has been enjoyable for me to watch how the boys have developed even in this short time frame, and I can't help but think how big an impact our literacy and mathematics program will have on these boys lifes in the future.

Through the Program we have seen first hand how boys who were constantly misbehaving in class and showed no interest in learning can turn it all around. One boy in particular told us how when he was youger he was beaten by his teachers for being "stupid". So he ran away from school and never went back, but not before he had thrown a few rocks at them as they left the premises. 

The Program has allowed us to work with this child pretty much on a 1 to 1 basis, and just by dedicating the time to him, and showing him that people do care about him and his education has improved exponentially. Another indicator of why you should never write somebody off, ever.

The saying goes that if you only judge a fish by its ability to climb a tree then the fish will always be stupid. I have never found anywhere where this saying is more applicable than Bana Ba Metsi, while many of these boys will never be great academics, they show everyday how they are intelligent in other aspects of life. My hope is that these boys will have learned enough here at BBM and do well enough in their exams to allow them to attend a practical college where they can learn a trade, only time will tell.

Impacting school policy

Taking a trip back through time to one of my previous blog posts titled 'exam week', you will see me talk about the difficulties we as volunteers found when it came to teaching the boys. At that time we had truly overestimated the boys' abilities, we were trying to teach them a syllabus involving topics such as photosynthesis when many struggled to read and write even the most basic English. It became clear very rapidly that if we were going to have a real impact on the boys' education then we would have to go right back to basics.

Before we broke up for holidays in November of last year we, the volunteers, wrote up a reading and writing program that we wanted to teach to the new standard 5 class that would be coming through. We aimed the program at the real problem areas (basic reading, writing and mathematics). We planned to split the class down into four groups and rank each group in levels 1-4 to more accurately cater for each boy's individual ability. Each volunteer would take a group which meant there would be a ratio between staff and students of 1-5. 

We proposed this to the staff and they agreed that it was worth trying, even if it was a complete failure nothing would have been lost when considering the boys' current abilities. In the weeks before we broke up for our christmas holidays we frantically wrote up a new school timetable in order to accomidate our program, we made it so we would have at least one hour everyday with the boys tackling either literacy or mathematics. 

For reasons known to all already I never made it back to Bana Ba Metsi for the start or the next term, I would be lying if I said I wasn't gutted not to see our idea come to fruition. But I was also quietly confident that the three brighter and better volunteers left behind would do an amazing job all the same. My confidence was well placed as on my return to the school I was given the good news, our program has been successful and the boys abilities have improved exponentially. So much so that the board of the school has said they wished for our program to become a school policy, so that all new children that will pass through Bana Ba Metsi in years to come will undertake the same program.

In the weeks before I returned to Bana Ba Metsi I had wondered a lot where I would fit into the schedule, it seemed silly to take over my science class again when their was already a very capable teacher in place. It is now clear, however, that since I was gone the boys were only split into three groups and as a result of this there are still students who are slacking behind the rest of the pack. My job now will be to try and help these boys improve in the last month or so before my time here is up.

Home coming

4 months to the day since my accident and I've come full circle, all the hours of physio have led to this moment. Its time for me to return to my Project and finish what I set out to do. To say that I've missed everything about my Project and Botswana would be an understatement, my constant day-dreams of life before the accident has been my key motivation in my recovery and without it I would be a long way behind from where I stand today.

I think I would be lying if I said that I wasn't nervous for my return, both physically and emotionally. Physically I was worried how my body would cope, firstly with getting to Botswana but also with the rigorous day to day life that Bana Ba Metsi demands. On the emotional front I was nervous about a lot of things, how would I fit back into the scheme of things at the school? How would I cope with travelling down the same road the accident occured, would it bring up any demons that I had not yet delt with? 

My worries were short lived however, it seems I am stronger than I think. Physically my back has given me little grief even though I had to endure a 6 hour bus ride sandwiched between two fairly large women. Even through this discomfort I still managed to sleep most of the way (no demons encountered). The bus ride was necessary in order to get from Maun to Shakawe where I was to be picked up by Peter Dow, the school director. 

After another hour of driving I could see it, the sign for home "Welcome to Bana Ba Metsi". I have envisioned this moment everyday since the accident, and I would be lying if I said I wasn't a little choked up, but I managed to hold it together. I couldn't have the boys first impression of me being a weak one.

I'm sitting here trying to think of the right words I should use to convey how happy and content I am to be back, but it seems an impossible task. As soon as I was with Tim, Paul and Justus it felt as if I'd never left. They were kind enough to put on a braii for my return and we eat like kings, something that won't last as the BBM diet resumes tomorrow.. ohh how I've missed pap.

 

Post-op

Just a few days ago I had the pleasure of being told by the Physio that there is little more she can do for me, its time to get on with life. That is not to say my recovery is over, my rehabilitation will never stop. The trauma I received from my accident will always be a hindrance to me. But with this news I thought it was time to update my blog, fill in the 3 and a half month gap since my operation. 

The first two weeks after the operation were a blur, I remember little due to the fact I was on enough pain killers to sedate a baby elephant. It was a blessing for a while until the painless days turned into scary dreams and horrible trips, a cocktail of morphine and tramodol will do that to you. It came to the point where I was choosing between a clear state of mind or being painless. I chose sanity, still on pain killers but a much lower dose. I was finally able to start listening to the doctors and surgeons and start understanding what I have been through medically and emotionally. 

The first question I remember asking my Neuro surgeon responsible for my spinal operation was whether I would ever be able to walk again? play Rugby? MMA? The answers were short, and seemed pretty cold at the time, yes, no, no. One of the many times I have broken down in tears since my accident, but at least I can always tell people I had my priorities straight.

Every day seems to blur together at this point, I found it almost impossible to keep any concept of time for the first month after my operation. But there are very distinct moments from those first few weeks post-op that I remember clearly, one of which was when my parents arrived and saw me for the first time, I know they were upset to see me in such a state but they held it together for my sake, both played a heavy role in keeping me sane in the months which followed. Another time was the first of many visits from Izzy and Jade, unfortunately or fortunately they were the first volunteers to come and see me in hospital. At the drop of a hat they came all the way from Swaziland to come and cheer me up, they were most definitely a god send as the days were always better when they were around, for a few hours a day I forgot I even had an accident. (They were the first but definitely not the last of the volunteers, Olivia, Anna, Amy, Linsey, T, Jake, Phil, Rachel, Erin and Melisa. Big love)

The most prolific of memories however was when I was first introduced to the two Physiotherapists, Sharron and Ugesh, who were assigned to look after me and help me recover. They both arrived with smiles on their faces and it was the first time that my confidence was lifted to the fact I was going to be ok. They told me that the road ahead was going to be hard and painful, but as long as I'm willing to push myself there is no reason why I can't return to the same physical condition I was in before. A statement I have had to repeat to myself a lot.

How long after our first encounter I'm not sure but they returned with a back brace, and what followed after I can only describe as being extremely f*****g painful. In order to put the brace on I needed to roll onto my side, the brace was then half stuffed under the side I was lying on from which I rolled back onto the brace. This was so that it could be secured over my shoulders and across my abdomen. Please remember this was all done only a week after my operation, my discs were still fusing with the accompaniment of 8 screws and four rods holding them together. On top of this I had had many open wounds scattered across my back like patchwork, nerve endings once covered by skin were now open, covered only by dressings. The slightest of touches was agony, morphine didn't help in the slightest.

 

Every time the Physios returned we pushed a little further, the brace routine ensued and then it was time to sit up. The next encounter was time to stand up and so it continued. Two steps became ten. Five minutes in a chair became 30 minutes. Before I knew it I was walking round intensive care (much to the shock of all of the nurses), everyday I continued to grow stronger.

 

 But just as I'm starting to think positively its time for my skin graft operation, time to patch me up. This was not a problem, it was the 5 days that followed the operation which flattened me. In order to let the grafts settle I was not allowed to put the back brace on in case the grafts were disturbed. With each day that passed I felt like I could feel my progress slipping away, I was properly depressed. Turns out that I shouldn't of worried, other than a little stiffness in the legs I was actually stronger coming out than I had been coming in, about fit enough to climb stairs in fact.

 

Now in step Professor Wolf, had no idea at the time how blessed I had been to have his company. He is a Clinical Psychologist, come to talk to me about my mental state. I've never been any good at putting my emotions into words, but after what happened this was going to be inevitable. He came to me many times to talk to me, and he even bought me a Big Mac, absolutely priceless in a hospital (salute). The most memorable exercise he conducted with me was called flooding, which is where you repeat a traumatic event over and over until it becomes normal and rational. 

"We're driving down the road, the grass has grown so it's impossible to see either side. Out of nowhere a cow steps out in front of the Land Rover, we try to avoid it but it’s too late. As we hit the cow the windscreen smashes and we're sprayed with glass. I'm gripping the dashboard as hard as I can to hold on but the cars already started to spin out of control, its at this point when I am thrown from the car. I hit the ground hard and roll for almost 15 meters before coming to a stop, just as I stop I look up I find the Land Rover square on toppling towards me. I manage to lift my knees up just in time to save them from being flattened, instead they smash through the window and I take the impact of the Land Rover from the waist up. I start screaming for help but every time I do I feel the air leaving my body, I'm alone and each cry for help becomes weaker and weaker until its only a whimper. At this point Paul jumps from the car and...." 5 times for three nights I repeated my story until it became a scene from a movie, a past experience but not something that would haunt me. My time with Professor Wolf was invaluable, the exercise saved me from what he described as a potential onset of Post traumatic stress Disorder, often associated with soldiers.

As the days rolled by it soon came to the time to move out of Intensive care and onto the ward, another step forward in my recovery, not much changed other than the scenery. I was still pushing myself everyday that little bit further, and eventually came the day when I politely declined the early morning sponge bath from the nurse because I was able to stand, by myself. Walk to the bathroom, by myself. And wash, by myself. Things that everybody takes for granted until you are unable. I will never forget the first time I looked in the mirror, I never had a wash that day, instead I went back to bed and cried. I couldn't handle what I had seen in the mirror. Everyone has an image in their mind, a self perception, but what I saw was not me. Instead I was looking at a frail skeleton due to the two stone I had lost, unable to stand up straight, covered in horrific scars. A sight I will never forget and a state I do not wish to return to.

Eventually the day rolled around and it was time to leave, time to return to the UK to finish my recovery. If I'm honest I was petrified to return to home, I had seen enough of the NHS to know that I could be in for wild ride. Leaving the hospital was also surprisingly an emotional experience, it’s amazing how close you become to those people who help you while you’re at your lowest. Only wish now that I had done a better job of thanking them.

16 hours later after leaving the hospital I touched down in England, I was then transferred to Addenbrooks Hospital until I was deemed fit enough to become an outpatient. Naive of me to suppose that I would be out quickly, that I would receive any Physiotherapy, that my wounds would be taken care of properly and that my room would be cleaned. I'm still unsure why, maybe it was the word 'Africa' that scared them, but I was placed under barrier nursing for 10 days. 10 long days in which I was confined to my room, all the progress that I made in South Africa was gone. My confidence was battered by the time I was finally released, I could barely walk and the only time I was comfortable was when I was lying down in bed.

The first night home was one of the hardest, back in January I had told myself that I would make it back to my project In Botswana. I was going to work my arse off and I set the date of May for my return, not that I told many people, I needed inspiration not negativity because I know I had doubters. But as I lay there that first night at home in early March it all seemed impossible, for the first time I felt defeated. But just like with every other set back along the way I bounced back, slowly but surely with no help from the NHS I built back my strength, walking, stretching, exercising. In no time at all I was back at the gym, and as my wounds finally closed it was time to start swimming, the Physios always told me the key to my recovery would be in the pool.

All of the above has lead me to this point. It’s been a marathon to say the least but knowing I'm nearly at the finish just makes me want it even more. I put my success not down to my strength of will but to all of those people who have been around me to pick me up when I'm down and push me on when I thought that I no longer could, whether it be family or friends, from a distance over social media or right at my side it’s all got me to where I am now.

If all goes to plan the next post you'll see from me will be in May when I have my flight back to Africa, to finish what I started. 

The last ten weeks..

The last time I updated my blog was around the end of November, just after the end of term. At this point me and Tim were gearing up to set off on our travels down towards the coast of South Africa via Swaziland where we would spend 6 weeks slowly making our way down the coast via the Garden Route, in order to arrive in Cape Town for Christmas and New Years. Whilst trying to keep it short and sweet I can honestly say it was the best 6 weeks of my life, we were able to share our experience with other volunteers from Project Trust. This was great as we had other people who could relate to the stresses of the Projects that we are all involved in, and also just generally kick back and have a laugh. During the 6 weeks I was lucky enough to do some surfing, paragliding, shark cage diving and bungee jump from the worlds largest bridge bungee. 

Once we had finished in Cape Town it was time to make our way back to Botswana for the start of a new term. Although I was sad the travels were over I was excited for the start of a new challenge. We made our way back to Maun via Namibia, it was a nice feeling to come back into Botswana. Just like I was returning to home, I guess it shows how much I'd settled in from the first three months.

After a couple of days finding our feet in Maun it was time to round up the Bana Ba Metsi Boy's and make the 6 hour journey up to our Project. Everything seemed normal, nothing was telling me that the day could end so badly, the only worrys we had were how 40 or so boys would behave for 6 hours couped up in a 5 ton truck.

The next part of this post may be quite graphic so you can decide for yourself if you wish to read on.

We took three cars from Maun up to the Project, the 5 ton truck, 3 ton truck and the land rover. Tim and Justus took the 3 ton truck whilst me and Paul took the Land Rover. At first I was glad about this as I knew it would mean we would arrive long before the others as the Land Rover is obviously quicker. I drove the first three hours before handing over to Paul to complete the journey. Whilst I'd been driving I hadn't really paid much attention to how the landscape had changed, as it is rain season the grass has grown so much on the side of the road that it is almost impossible to spot any wildlife, which there is alot of. This was our major downfall.

As we were driving, out of nowhere a cow walked into the middle of the road, there was no way we could of seen it and no way that Paul could have avoided it. I braced myself as best as I could before we hit the cow but unfortunately Land Rovers aren't really built for hitting large animals. Paul tried his best to keep the car under control but the car had already started to roll. At this point I blacked out, when I came to, which must of been moments later I was lying on the road, I'm still not sure if I went through the passenger window or the windscreen. Either way I was lying on the road and as I looked up I could see the Land Rover tilting towards me, I knew it was going to fall. I brang my knees up to try and roll backwards but it was already to late. It was actually very fortunate that I did bring my knees up as they smashed through the small glass window at the back of the Land Rover, If I hadn't of done this I probably would have lost my legs. Small mercies, but I was still stuck and being crushed by the Land Rover.

At this point I was screaming for help, but in the back of my mind I wondered if it was worth it, I assumed everyone else in the car must have been in just as bad a state as I was. To my suprise they all managed to escape from the car with only cuts and bruises. But we were still left with the problem of me being crushed by a Land Rover. They tryed to lift it, and everytime they did it allowed me to gasp tiny lungfulls of air, but I knew if help didn't arrive soon it would be game over, at the time I was almost positive that I wasnt going to make it out. Everytime I was losing conciousnes I had Paul screaming at me to wake up, can't thank him enough really, he saved my life. 

I find it strange when I think about it, whenever you here about near death experiences you always here about "life flashing before your eyes". I didn't have any of that, I could feel myself starting to fade but I still had this voice niggling at me that I had to try something, this was the last way I wanted to go.

It couldn't of been more than a minute after this voice started that I heard cars pulling up, I knew this was my last chance and to my good fortune there were then plenty more people to help try and lift the Land Rover, at first it was just a mad dash of people all trying to be the worlds strongest man but between me and paul we managed to co-ordinate everyone to lift at the same time, on the second attempt I was pulled free. I can't describe the feeling of getting pulled from the wreck when moments before I was sure it wasn't going to happen. It took 1 hour for the first ambulance to arrive, and another 3 to get back to the nearest hospital, all without any pain killers.

Two medi-evacs later and I was in Johanesburg in what is without a doubt the best hospital I've seen or been in, Project Trust really do spare no exspense on Insurance. Three or so weeks ago I had surgery to fuse two discs in my lower spine, and rods placed in to keep them from compressing on my spinal cord. Since then I have been walking and I am determined to make a speedy recovery in order to head back to my Project.

 You can follow my progress on either mine or my parents Facebook accounts.

The support I've recived since the crash has been overwhelming, I can't thank everyone enough. I'm almost certain I wouldnt have bounced back the way I have done if it wasn't for everyone who has wished me well and has been so supportive. 

And we thought it was over..

Term concluded on the 27th with a long drive down from Bana Ba Metsi to Maun, from there it is the responsibility of the boys' social workers and parents to collect the boys and take them to where they will stay for the six weeks of their summer holidays.

All went fine except for two boys whose social workers hadn't been able to make it in time. Not that this is a problem, things like this seem to happen in Botswana all the time and you just get on with things. It meant that the two boys would stay with us overnight before being collected the next morning by the social worker. This seemed like only a small problem especially as both of the boys were ones that we got on with and trusted, or so we thought.

There was only limited accomodation so the boys slept in the same room as us over night, while me and Tim were asleep one of the boys went into my wallet and stole 700 pula. When I realised this I was gutted to say the least. I do not think the theft was personal, just opportunistic. Maybe I should have expected it but it doesn't make it any less annoying. 

We managed to recover 600 pula after the boy confessed, but his confession lead us to find out that the other boy had also taken money and is suspected to be part of a much bigger incident which I cannot disclose. The incident lead for the police to be called and the only reason they were spared from spending the night in a jail cell was due to the fact that they are minors. Punishment will wait until school resumes next year.

Now that the troubles are over, me and Tim have 6 weeks of travel to look forward to. We refuse to let this incident bring us down, on Sunday we will leave for Botswana's capital Gabarone, before heading on to South Africa. We will spend a week in Joburg before travelling down to the coast via Swaziland. Once at Durban we will travel down the coast of S/A in time to spend christmas and new years in Cape Town. On the 3rd of Janurary we will take a bus from Cape Town to Windhoek, Namibia before crossing the border back to Botswana in time for the start of term. Shark diving, Bungee jumping, surfing, and snorkling are all on the cards. 

Whether I will blog or not is yet to be decided as I will be leaving my tablet in Botswana. I will post videos and photos on Insta and Facebook, follow if you wish @alexdobson_ ✌️