Bedazzlement at the Baphumelele Community Project!

Khayelitsha is one of Cape Town’s largest informal settlements, a maze of corrugated iron and tangled telephone wires, and is the scene of my second outing in the name of HAHA (Help Another Human or Animal). As I navigated my dotty way to the Baphumelele Community Project and Children’s Home, I was able to take in a few of the sights, sounds and smells of this intriguingly vibrant place.

The streets are a writhing mass of enterprise and activity, as shopkeepers hope to sell anything from tired vegetables and scraggly chickens to defeated-looking sofas and battered kitchen sinks. The odd, bony cow lethargically chews its cud, observing the bustle it is surrounded by with bored and disinterested eyes, whilst dogs of every description and uncertain breed scratch, yowl and bark in general merriment. Children run, hop, skip and jump everywhere you look, their clothes dusty with play and their eyes bright with mischief.

As one drives along the incoherent tangle of streets, one sees sights such as the proprietor of the ‘God Bless Customers Barber Shop’ standing languidly in the doorway of his establishment, waving occasionally to a friend walking by, comb and scissors in hand. On almost every corner there skulks an illegal drinking tavern or Shebeen, spilling recklessly onto the sidewalk, its flimsy walls seemingly alive and throbbing with the pulse of the music and alcohol that courses through its veins.

The impression that struck me most powerfully was that, despite its rampant poverty, Khayelitsha somehow manages to retain an air of optimism; whilst being fully aware of the squalour and hardship that characterises it, this place and the people who live there somehow seem to remain incomprehensibly upbeat. It is unquestionable that the suffering and impoverishment of Khayelitsha’s inhabitants is very real, yet it is as though they still manage to find some essence of hope and joy in the midst of their desperate struggle to survive.

As much as I was enjoying marveling at everyday Khayelitsha life and being continually astonished by the baffling assortment of canine species on display, I was in fact attempting to reach Baphumelele. This was rendered somewhat difficult, due to my GPS’ evil delight in directing me into solid and impassable obstacles, resulting in a heated battle of wills between an automated female voice and myself.

After being steered into an assortment of walls/ditches/informal cattle pens, a friendly passer-by saw my despair and kindly directed me onto the correct route. At long last I was nearing the Baphumelele Children’s home, a remarkable place that was established over twenty years ago by the extraordinary kindness of one very special lady.

At last! BAPHUMELELE! Victory!

You will probably not have heard of Rosie (or Rosalia Mashale, to be precise) before. You may not know her story of sacrifice or her tale of compassion. A trained primary school teacher, she moved from the Eastern Cape to Khayelitsha in 1989, and upon her arrival she quickly became aware of the plight of her new community. Instead of briskly looking the other way, she chose to face the harrowing problem of child abuse, abandonment and destitution squarely in the eye.

Sleeping on the floor of her own house, Rosie took in children who had nowhere to call their home. Her vision was not grand, it was simple: where there was pain, she sought to relieve it, where there was no hope, she would provide.

Today, Baphumele is an iconic symbol of her selfless dedication to protect children for no reason other than that was what her heart compelled her to do. 

Starting within the four walls of Rosie’s home, her vision has expanded to a sprawling, interlinked complex of structures, each serving a specific function and addressing a particular area of need. A brick-and-mortar tribute to the enormity of her compassion, these buildings now provide a place of safety to some 106 children, aged 0 – 18. 

Here, they can play, live, learn and revel in the ultimate luxury of childhood – being free and being unafraid. Within the walls of Baphumelele and under the watchful eye of Rosie's team, these children are secure in the knowledge that they have not been forgotten, they are important and have a future that is worth fighting for.

I had the privilege of being given an in-depth, guided tour of Baphumelele by the charming and eloquent Sisi Noni. Bustling with the authoritative pride of a beaming Mother Hen, she took me to see the houses where the children are accommodated and explained to me the core philosophies that underscore the manner in which these vulnerable little humans are cared for within Baphumelele, in accordance with the wishes of their prima-matriarch, Rosie.

Sisi Noni waves a cheerful HELLO!

Ani and the wonderful Sisi Noni

The emphasis is at all times to recreate the feeling of home – no more than 8 children per “cluster house” of which there are eleven in total, boys and girls looked after in separate buildings. 

Each house has a dedicated roster of caregivers who take shifts to ensure that there is always someone on site to look after the children, whether it be to make breakfast in the cold mornings before schooltime or to read stories in the evenings when another day is done. Baphumelele employs a total of 45 caregivers in order to be able to give the children focused attention and dedicated care, having recently taken on an extra 15 personnel so as to lighten the load somewhat.

The buildings each have their own character, which is often influenced by the donor that had made its existence a possibility; for example, the Holland House proudly represents its heritage with its fluttering flag and bold Netherlands-orange walls.

The American Consulate of Cape Town sponsored the Infant and Toddler facility (the 12th house, accommodating 16 tiny humans), and this cheerful, Jungle Book themed building is alive with murals of Baloo, Mowgli and friends. The infants who are now lovingly watched over and cared for in the safety of their painted jungle did not always have the luxury of warmth or the promise of comfort. They may in fact have had nowhere to go, after being found huddled in plastic bags in litter-strewn alleys or swaddled in blankets on train station benches, had the community not known that there was at least one place where these babies would be welcome, one place that would take them in - Baphumelele.

A sense of warmth and innocence pervaded each of the houses I visited, elements that are so essential for the growth and development of any child. Teddy bears sit happily on sofas, seemingly content and looking forward to watching their favourite TV programme later on in the day; the comforting aromas of a homecooked meal linger in the kitchen; the bright crayon scribbles of drawings adorn the walls; a scuffed table and rickety chairs stand ready and waiting for young minds to arrive from school and huddle over their homework. Beds are neatly made, soccer boots stand dutifully at the door – these aren’t the cold, neglected quarters of orphans or abandoned children; these really are homes, lit from within by the enormous empathy of people who work there.

In order to maintain its reputation as a place whose doors are always open to destitute children in need of shelter, Baphumelele relies very heavily on the contributions made by donors. Baphumelele receives a woefully meager allowance from the South African government, as is the case with many such organisations, with the Department of Social Welfare only providing an estimated 30 - 35% of each child’s costs. Baphumelele is entirely reliant upon donations to make up for the remainder of the expenses associated with caring for its children, and their excellent website (http://www.baphumelele.org.za) details ways in which one can contribute to the various projects they run and specifies exactly where there greatest areas of need are.

When I asked Sisi Noni what ‘Baphumelele’ means, she hesitated for a moment, until a glint of defiance flickered across her eyes. “We have won!” she said, beaming with joy, “It means we have won!” A simple statement, powerful in its intensity, resonant with victory and pride.

What a fitting name for a place that represents triumph over despair and the overcoming of insurmountable odds; a place that in its 24th year may stand proudly, head aloft and declare that the abandonment and vulnerability of children will continue to be challenged and defeated by the power of one woman’s love.

I really had such a wonderful time at Baphumelele, thank you to Sisi Noni for being such an enthusiastic guide and hostess, she made me feel very welcome and gave me such an in-depth tour of the facilities! I will still post some excerpts of the tour, but for now here is a video of the talk I did for the children, which includes MAGIC, yes, MAGIC! (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LohiZrXVwDE)

The feathers obtained from Fred were all gathered with his consent, in fact he keeps a few of them for occasions such as these and only permits VERY SPECIAL humans to have them, because they are so powerful and shouldn't end up in the hands of rascals or scallywags. I would therefore like to clarify that no Golden Pheasants were harmed in the making of this video!

A few photos of my visit to Baphumelele:

Lots of Love and HAHA xxxxx Ani

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LohiZrXVwDE

What the HAHA is Ani on about?

HAHA is a universally recognised symbol of laughter. We’ve all enjoyed the benefits of a good, spontaneous HAHA, as our eyes crinkle at the corners, our mouths stretch into gleeful smiles and our ribs jerk in an uncontrollable fit of mirth. Yes, it is unquestionable – HAHA is good for you!

If you look anything like the pictures above - high five! You, my friend,  are a HAHA natural!

Admit it – you love a good HAHA. Cast your mind back. When was your last, good, hearty HAHA? Was it this morning, when you looked outside your window and happened to see the yellow-black-blur of motion that is a giant banana being chased by a gorilla (Yes - that has happened http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=anmJbCyAh04)?

Perhaps you could't muffle a HAHA when your great-uncle shared one of his favourite, cringe-inducing jokes at the last family gathering you attended (What goes HAHA bonk? A man laughing his head off!)?

Ladies (perhaps the odd gentleman too), do you HAHA in mild agony when you recall THAT time when a rogue gust of wind caused you to experience a wardrobe malfunction a-la-Marilyn Monroe, resulting in your lacy underwear being revealed to a larger audience than you had originally planned? It seems safe to conclude that, irrespective of its source or cause - a HAHA moment, is a happy moment. 

This is why I have chosen ‘HAHA’ as the name for the very lovely new project I’m launching. HAHA is a cunning acronym for ‘Help Another Human or Animal’ – genius, I know. 

HAHA - Help Another Human or Animal! GENIUS, no? Applause welcome!

The concept is simple – laughter, being the best medicine, is an effortless way of helping others, so when next you see a human/animal in need, be a Dr. Do-Good and administer a large dose of tickles/spontaneous tap-dancing and/or knock-knock jokes immediately. If you are able to accomplish all three at once, you will certainly have earned your black belt in HAHA.

It is my sincere belief that we all get too disheartened and too despondent about the enormity of the challenges facing our world, and consequently fail to recognise the opportunities that arise every day to make a difference in the lives of the people we come into contact with. This difference may not be an earth-shattering, ground-trembling, foundation-shaking alteration in the course of someone’s life, but if it adds one more smile to one person’s day, it is still a positive contribution. I completely agree with that most incredible of ladies, Mother Theresa, when she said, “Never worry about numbers. Help one person at a time and always start with the person nearest you”. Phrased slightly differently by a wise warthog – “Hakuna Matata and HAHA.” I'm sure he said that. 

We may not singlehandedly be able to eradicate world poverty, starvation, disease, illiteracy, cruelty or suffering, but we can pick a humble little flower for someone we care about and give it to them as a surprise at the end of a long day. We can smile at the waitress who serves us our breakfast and we can take the time to thank the lady who cleans the public bathroom we use. We can choose to slow down in the never-ceasing whir we call daily life to greet the elderly gentleman walking past us in the street, stooped and wise and longing for some acknowledgement that he is still alive, that he is still valued.

When in doubt, be like this sloth. This sloth is the business.

I will be giving you ideas of somewhat bizarre but splendid ways in which you can be a HAHA ambassador, ranging from making money grow on trees (YES you CAN!), leaving love notes on strangers’ car windscreens (not creepy love notes, LOVELY love notes to inspire, motivate and enthuse), as well as teaching you the secret to making magical smiling chocolates that you can distribute like a modern-day Willy Wonka of wonderment (Oompa Loompas are not essential for the completion of this task, but if you have some handy, that’s fantastic and please let me know where I can recruit a few).

I will also be visiting as many charities and NGO’s as I can to give you an insight into the amazing work being done by people who take HAHA to the next level and do so on a permanent basis. These persons radiate the spirit of HAHA with such dazzling intensity that their halos practically light up the sky. They are the glowworms of our world, shining love out of their illuminated bottoms (metaphorically speaking) to remind us of the potential in each of us to bring light to even the darkest of our problems. I will be focused predominantly on organisations that care for children or promote literacy, as well as conservation iniatives that aim to lend a helping paw to our fuzzier brethren.

My aim in visiting these charities and writing about their work is simply to remind you that although humanity is faced with great challenges, there is also a great commitment to overcoming them. When we are reminded of the good that people are doing, we inevitably feel empowered to make a HAHA contribution of our own, no matter how small. All of our little chuckles can join to form a great roar of laughter that ripples across the world. 

Change the world, one chuckle at a time.

What I hope to convey to you is that HAHA should essentially be perceived as a personal matter – what makes you HAHA, and how do you enjoy spreading the HAHA magic? We cannot all work for a charity, we cannot all dedicate our lives solely to helping other humans or animals – yet this does not preclude us from being able to add a dash of delightfulness to the world we are immediately surrounded by. 

This is what HAHA sets out to do. Simply, and cheerfully, to make the lives of other humans (and animals) just that LITTLE bit better. 

xxxx Ani

Here is a very HAHA video where I explain things a little further, hopefully it will show you the wildly wonderful world that awaits you once you make HAHA a part of your daily life! Let me tell you a secret. Spreading a HAHA a day will make you shine like a sun ray! Do it and see for yourself!