"I see the experience, feel it, smell it,
hear it. It is real, it is striking. It violently shocks the core of all my
thoughts on cancer."
Harman Pabla Intern Student, Australia Served MAKNA from 3rd January to 3rd March 2006
I
distinctly remember my experience at MAKNA. There were two halves, before a
home visit and after a home visit. Home visits are the attendance of MAKNA
volunteers at cancer patients home to monitor their situation.
Usually everyone has the same view of a non profit organization. They are for
the benefit of society as a whole, they fulfil gaps in the welfare system left
by the government and they offer people hope. This is true. People that have
been working for such organizations for twenty years know this. People who have
not been part of an NGO know this as well. But why do people who work for an
NGO feel the same emotions, but with so much more intensely and with so much
passion?
I was offered the opportunity to understand why when I was involved in my first
home visit. A group of three of us arrived at a crammed home of twelve
children. They had a full time solo carer. Some of them had cancer, some HIV,
some epilepsy, just to name a few. And most of them, orphans. The eldest child
was just ten. The most striking realization I had was that, they were so happy.
Not because of our company but because they could all play together in the
front garden. Running around the garden, sliding down the firemans pole,
swinging on the swings and playing "chasey" with each other.
Laughter, giggling, yelling and shouting. They were so happy. It was as if they
had not a single problem in the world, they were blissfully unaware of their
long term situations.
On the way to the home, another volunteer, Mama Gie, told me about the
children, how some were orphaned, how four or five of them sleep on the same
bed, how some of them have just enough to eat, how they have to share clothes.
Then when you see it, it is something like from a movie. You've always wanted
to experience it, but when it happens, you want it to be different. You want it
to be so much more real. You want it to strike you. But it doesn't.
I just stand there, not feeling like smiling, or crying, or showing any
emotion. And then it strikes me, a small hand tries to grab mine, but it can't,
the hand is too small. It tries again, but still no. Then the small hand wraps
four little fingers around my index finger, the children want me to play with
them. I go. To them I am just another child, another person to play with.
I see the experience, feel it, smell it, hear it. It is real, it is striking.
It violently shocks the core of all my thoughts on cancer.
