The weather has played a large part in our lives over the past few days. Due to storm damage from 18 months ago we have been forced to take certain detours away from the coast, as well as this the areas that we could finally get back to, the coast line have been so overgrown with alien vegetation that we can hardly move- eventually just before PE we could head back to the coast and then we thought it was beach to the Sundays river and beyond, but oh no, not so quickly some one had other ideas.

The temperature started to drop ,massive streaks of cloud were been painted across the sky  with long magical strokes, but suddenly the artistic hand seemed to be crazed into a frenzy, strokes were now swirls of twisted spiralling cloud, toned down with dark shadowing of black. The leaves all around us were now abuzz with the permanent howl of the wind; the branches were bending ground wards in toe touching manoeuvres. Debris has stopped scurrying around our feet and now spent large amounts of their time air born, giving me the odd “clap” on the back of my head. The sea was a sheet of white spray, huge dollops of foam were spewed from the waves, hitting the rocks and disintegrating into a shower of bubbles. Each step forward was now turned into a step and a half by the wind as we were flung from side to side, trying to maintain our balance and avoid ending up in the bush.

To add to this, our chances of returning to the beach were totally smashed. It was spring tide, but behind the high tides, the storm was pushing a massive head of water with waves up to 12 meters. The waves were crashing into the dunes, taking big bites out of them, as the water pulled back, large pieces of the coast would collapse into the sea, as the next wave rolled in, all traces of the damage would disappear and then the next chunk of dune would disappear.

On arriving along the beachfront in PE it seemed if the anger of the sea had reached breakpoint. Massive walls of water were rolling in back to back as they pummelled the shoreline heaving huge rocks on to the coastal road, bringing the town to a standstill. Further down the coast at bushman’s river, caravans were washed into the sea, boathouses trashed and the shoreline torn apart. As we moved on the news from the locals was all of massive destruction.

After days on the road, the storm having subsided we turned back down to the beach and to our joy we found out that further down the coast towards East London, the storm had played into our hands as all the parallel dunes had been washed away and a freeway of beach lay ahead, 130kmof beach running and counting.      
 

I was standing in the corner of the operating theatre , sparkling new equipment filled the room, with wiring and piping leading to the nerve centre of each operating station. In front of me were the 2 operating tables, each covered with a green sheet, a solitary bright light shone onto the table where the breathing mask lay. Theatre staff from the 2 medical teams was quiet and focused going over last minute check lists. Deep down I felt really nervous about what I was going to be seeing, unsure but I really wanted to be part of this I had over the past day developed such a bond with certain of the children and their parents , it was also such a privilege to be able experience how the surgery is done.

The theatre door swung open and in walked this tiny figure, dressed in a teddy theatre gown, her little arm extended up, holding onto the anaesthetists hand. So confident and brave, I looked at that little face and my heart just went out to her. Her beautiful big eyes just stared ahead as she quietly walked over to the table and climbed on. A loving arm was put around her as the mask was placed over her mouth, she looked up and slowly she rolled her eyes back and sunk away into her induced sleep- her dream was now to begin
I will never for get the next few moments as Anil Madaree the surgeon sat behind her head looking down at the tiny little face, placing his hands on each side and slowly moving then inward, feeling her tiny twisted little lips with his fingers. He then began planning the procedure, softly marking where he would work. Totally focused in silence he began the reconstruction process, occasionally asking for instruments and explaining what he was doing to his assistant. In the background I could hear the ping-ping of the heart rate monitor, the drone of the suction pump and the rhythmic inflation of the breathing bag heave and deflate next to this tiny figure draped with the tentacles from the equipment. An hour had passed, the theatre staff were still gliding to and fro, checking and re checking, passing sutures and medication as Anil continued to work.

Finally the deep intricate work was complete and slowly stitch after stitch with absolute calm these magical hands floated endlessly weaving back and forth, the instruments seemed to be part of them. As I looked down this most beautiful angelic little face was now peering through the blue head cover. I saw the forcipes move up towards the light with a majestic curve and a with a soft tug on the suture  the last stitch pulled tight joining the upper lip, the other hand effortlessly moved across and cut the last stitch. Moving his seat back Anil thanked the team and sat looking at the beauty that he had unleashed in this child.

There is a certain bound that one can only explain when your child is born; I think today I experienced something similar. This little girl’s mother was called into the post op room to see her daughter. As she walked in the nurse sat her down and Bruce the post opp doctor handed her her daughter, she looked at this little sleeping beauty, the tears just streamed down her face as she hugged her child and said- “Buhle” meaning you’re beautiful.
“Operation Smile, the songs of joy will echo through the valleys of Mount Frere,so will the tears of joy will flow in the  ravines for years to come, a nation thanks you “   

55 children and adults arrived at the screening this morning. It was an incredible but heart wrenching experience to be in the company of so many people whose lives have been torn apart due to their disfigurement. The youngest child was only eight days old and then on the other side there was a lady of 50 who had spent the best part of her life in the shadows, ostracised  and laughed at, who could not stare anyone in the eyes due to her shame, but now there was a ray of hope.

There was an eerie uneasiness amongst all the patients, maybe disbelief that they could be helped or the final realisation that there are also other people who suffer from a similar problem, as most of them are never seen in public, or able to integrate into society because of the way that they are seen by others. As the morning progressed the children began to interact with each other and play, a sense of freedom seemed to fall over them as no one noticed that they looked any different no one cared how they looked or laughed at them, everyone shared a similar problem, for the first time in their lives they could run, play and chase each other like normal children. One mother just sat there tears streaming down her face, tears of joy as she said it was the first time that she had seen her child just be able to play with other children and be a child. Mothers began bonding and just chatting, sharing their mutual stories relating to their children.

After hours of the screening process and checks all the patients are then assessed by the medical panel according to prioritised criteria and the surgical selection process is then done. But at every mission there are always some cases that have to be referred to other hospitals or the patient is not healthy enough at the time to be operated on, but they eventually  will get help, but today, their day of freedom from enslavement inside their disfigured body is taken away from them. A harsh blow, to some its been years of waiting for this opportunity, only to find it turns out to be just another day in their tormented life. As traumatic as it is for the child, so it is for the person who has to break the news.

As I sat on the lawn behind the small group of patients who did not make the criteria, I could just see what the young mission co-ordinatior was going through, holding each Childs hand, talking to them and explaining that not all hope is lost there will be a next time, I knew and felt the genuine pain that she was going through and that it was one of the hardest things that she has had to deal with in her life. – Looking across the group, I wish I could just stretch out and hold my daughter, but I know that its what she can deal with best.

  Tamlin – I am really proud of you and every one involved with Operation Smile.            

I don’t think that I can really put these emotions down in words, but I will try to share them anyway.

It was a long 10 hour drive to Mount Frere to the hospital, the whole way I have been milling over the thought about having the privilege of being able to attend a mission, thoughts that I have milled over for years and during the hundreds of hours that I have toiled while pushing my self to the limit in order to bring awareness and raise funds for such a special group of children who have touched my life and that of my family so deeply.

On walking into the hospital the first person that I saw was a young girl, slowly sauntering towards me, her eyes looking down at the floor, but occasionally glancing ahead, As she got closer I could see her grotesquely twisted face, the shame that she carried with this burden, I looked at her and the tears just welled in my eyes and I thought if all that I have gone through could just be enough to help change that Childs life I would be eternally grateful
There were three other children sitting on the bench in the foyer, all part of the group of kids at the hospital for the Operation Smile mission, each carrying their own facial burden, but there was hope in their eyes, tomorrow their lives might change forever, but as they are all aware, it is no guarantee or promise as they might not be able to undergo surgery due to illness or complications on the day. I walked over to chat to them, the one girl in her teens with a facial tumour asked about the mission. I briefly explained the process that she would go through and the screening pre op and there are no promises,
She held my arm and said
“I have lived so long like this, and I pray each day, tonight I will pray again and ask Please God my tomorrow be my day”?
I squeezed her hand and turned and walked out into the cold darkness quietly sobbing to myself. Why? These beautiful innocent children, and yes, I still feel her internal pain as I stare at this screen as it lowly blurs.
Please let tomorrow be her day.