Episode 1

When I first met Lily’s Mum, I just knew that my life was destined to change dramatically.  As a white British man, with only a few non-white friends, this new relationship was going to involve a considerable leap of faith if we were going to dedicate our lives to each other and any resulting children.

Angie and I were of a similar age; both having enjoyed travelled independently and shared a lifetime of involvement with the Roman Catholic church.  In fact, it was friends I’d made through the London Students’ Chaplaincy that had prompted me to apply for the teaching post in Harare which brought us together.

Something else we had in common turned out to be the importance of children: with me taking care of them in the classroom and Angie applying her many skills in the hospital ward.  My beliefs had always led me to value children, although my own experience of any parenting was quite limited. At least it was until meeting the rest of the extended Lourenço family!

My own father had been largely absent during my childhood years, so when he cleared off completely in my late teens, it meant the opportunity to learn directly about being a Dad in my own right had been largely non-existent.  

Angie’s own family involvement was reinforced by her professional experiences as a midwife and then a pediatric nurse, leaving me light years behind when it came to understanding and caring for the wider needs of youngsters.

Several friends back in York and London had always been keen for me to take their children off for an afternoon in local parks – little did I realise at the time just how much of a treat those trips out were for my adult friends – so I wasn’t a complete novice.

Angie soon started to provide some catch-up training for her husband-to-be…..

“Al, just take N (her niece of three years) to the toilet.”  

This command led me towards a situation way above anything I’d experienced before.  In all my teaching I’d not dealt with children under teenage years!

Thankfully my small companion was completely OK with this shared mission and my panic duly subsided.  The fear of not knowing had been replaced by a dramatic lurch forward in my understanding.

Angie was even more beautiful in her pregnancy, which arose quite soon after we’d exchanged our marriage vows.  You might be shocked to hear that I was out partying in London, some months later, when Angie successfully gave birth to Lily’s brother, back in Harare.  

Overlapping teaching terms and holidays meant that I could leave Zimbabwe and return to my former London secondary school to earn the £s not available due to sanctions against Mugabe’s government at the time.  

Our firstborn had decided to arrive two weeks before Plan A kicked in, so I was still in England. The sterling would allow me to buy a pushchair and essential cuddy toys from Hamley’s Toy Store! Cotton was grown in Zimbabwe those days, so nappies were readily available.  Most other baby products items were in seriously short supply.

On my return flight, British Airways staff were quite perplexed as I’d taken advantage of “Bring your pushchair aboard free.” They wondered at first where I’d stashed the baby?   To everyone’s relief, my explanation that McLaren buggies were not available in my new home, set the matter straight. And they didn’t charge me for excess baggage.

So, my opening days of ‘fatherhood’ were characterised by a clear and obvious absence.  If you’d like to share some of how that narrative unfolded, watch this space.

Wishing you peace.

Alan

Uluru at sunset     

  Uluru is a very ancient, special land meaning 'meeting place' by the Anangu  people. I am still learning about the Anangu culture and different Aboriginal groups of families here. I cannot believe that just driving around after work, or on the way to the supermarket that I used to see Uluru in the distance!

  Working on call was suprisingly tiring at first, and I think for the first month all I really did was go to work, go for walks, and sleep.  It was a much slower pace than what I was used to being in hospitals, even much smaller, rural hospitals.  But I still found the changes tiring!  I underestimated the need to drink as much water, which many tourists to the region did as well.  Just because it's more arid, and you won't therefore sweat as much as somewhere like Darwin, the quiet desert still demands your attention to prevent you from feeling more tired and thirsty than usual.  

  It was intimidating looking after people on call by myself, and to be honest if I still hear that specific ring tone for the on call phone then my heart jumps into my throat and I feel on edge!  However thankfully I got much more used to it, as well as moving every other week to the community 2-3 hours away to run the clinic.  It was still tiring and odd though being away from your usual house, with usual kitchen appliances even.  And 

 Then the work politics and itchy feet started settling in, and whilst I did love driving my lovely (second hand) new car, a 6 hour each way trip to Alice, just to go to the pharmacy, wasn't ideal.  So once I even caught a cheap direct flight to Melbourne from Yulara for the weekend to go to the shops and experience some of the city!  When work takes up so much of your life in such a small place, with unbalances and unfair dynamics they feel much more amplified than if you were somewhere bigger.  There, work bled into every day life and it w  As unique as desert life is, it wasn't meant to last..

  My time here wasn't as long as I was anticipating, and my decision to leave after 5 months was not an easy one.  Life felt like it was thrust all into chaos, and I started driving to Alice springs with all my earthly belongings crammed into my first ever car.   I was feeling numb as our notice period was only a week, and it didn't all feel quite real to be leaving somewhere I thought I was going to stay for much longer.  I still managed to have fun on the last weekend, splashing out on helicopter rides around the great monoliths and enjoying them from a different perspective.  It was interesting that Uluru for me was the place I went to when I was feeling emotional and fighting off the need to cry before finally giving in, sometimes just in my happiness at seeing her.  And Kata Tjuta was where I went to do more introspective, probing reflection, asking myself certain questions but more importantly understanding what answer was being given.