Feeling Hot, Hot, Hot! (by Kool and the gang I think)

Well here we are in Lesotho. It's one of the poorest countries in the world they say; 70% unemployment, land-locked, mountainous and infertile, the gift from the whites to the Bosotho tribe as a kind of a pay off in an argument over land ownership. (Nice.) We drove from South Africa yesterday evening and left the empty but pretty scenery behind. The border was like arriving at a different world. Out of nothing popped a bustling city - Maseru, with folks carrying piles of stuff over the bridge on wheelbarrows or trolleys, and huge long queues in which we were the only white faces. It was really great fun. Once over the border we met up with the Worthing team and had a wonderful buffet in a posh hotel, which didn't seem right but we got over it (!) and even had extra puddings and wine. (At £9 a head it seemed rude not to). A certain Joe Whitchurch took it upon himself to coach our boys in the art of getting the maximum amount of food possible in a buffet situation. It was quite a marathon.

Today has been my favourite day by far, as I finally got to go out in to the community and see for myself what its like in the trickiest areas. We decided to go as a family and I think they coped OK. We had really friendly people with us from the church here so they explained things as we went. We visited a family who have twin babies who are not growing well ("shrinking", Isaac explained later), with a 3 year old lying in a cast up to the hip, and a 5 year old girl holding the whole thing together as mum has to work, both parents HIV positive, all living in a hot tin shack the size of a garden shed. It was a desperate scene. We also saw a family of EIGHT kids in a similar state and later on, I went with a few ladies to see a 7 year old boy whose friends had come to find the church to ask someone to go and pray as he was very sick. (In this area it is lovely as people know the church will help.) When we were there I had the weird experience of being asked what to do. Take a moment here to ponder with me. Calpol? no. Nurofen? no. NHS Direct? nope. Local doctor? no. A&E ? no chance. Advice online? no. It sounds really obvious but when you're face to face with it you realise just how cushioned we are in the UK. Same with the twins. We would scoop them up and get them somewhere, make a scene, get something done, but here there's just not that kind of expectation. Talk about a postcode lottery.

This afternoon we helped at a kids club in the field called Bokletsa Bana - where children from the township just turn up and get the chance to be children for a couple of hours. It was brilliant. Evie nearly got crushed in a frenzy of sticker-distribution. In the end she was shouting 'Calm DOWN!', it was so funny. Parachute games, snacks, Kath with a huge bottle of bubbles (the kids went crazy!), water bombs, team games and then at the end they danced and sang and cavorted, played football and did little shows for each other until we thought they would drop. Truly a lovely scene. As we drove off they were all waving and running alongside our car - such sweet little friendly kids but you can't help wondering what will happen to them. Col said he and Jez racked their brains last year on the trip, trying to think of ideas for local businesses here to kick start some sort of change, but it's a tough one - any suggestions welcome.

So we're in a kind of youth hostel here, in a family room. I can explain its contents on 30 seconds: 4 beds, 3 self adhesive hooks (white plastic ones like you would buy in a 2-pack at B&Q), and.... an iron and ironing board!? I hardly iron at home, let alone here. Does anyone else find that a bit weird? I guess they take great care of their clothes here. Same with the houses - even the shacks are emptied every morning, swept out and then re-filled, I've been told.

I don't know how to finish today. Three cheers for the NHS maybe. I'll let you decide, dear reader. x