A Journey with Max
We are in Zimbabwe, perched at the back of a small boat, enjoying a sun downer trip, on Lake Kariba. It is a fishing holiday, and we are based on board a larger cruise ship. This is a chance for everyone to get together socially and appreciate the beauty around us.
Max is eagerly searching for fish eagle, with the possibility of hippo, crocs, baboon, black and cattle egret, pied kingfisher and blacksmith plover. He is confident he will spot lots of delights and knows he will enjoy identifying them. Gus calls him ‘dead eyed ***’ as he is quick and accurate in spotting and naming even rare species. There is no competitiveness in this, it’s just that birds and animals are in his ‘interest areas’ and he is switched on to notching them up. He and Gus will write lists of what they’ve seen, later. People around are praising him, accepting him, liking him. He is happy and secure. He is even singing his favourite songs to me:- show tunes from Phantom, War songs, Frank and Bing, in the sure knowledge that I’ll join in. Every so often, he cuddles me and kisses my cheek saying ‘Guess what? I love you, Mum.’ He is being adorable and some of the adults are dabbing at tears as he sings ‘Music of the Night,’ simply and beautifully, here, cherished, in a small boat on a massive lake somewhere in the middle of this glorious continent. Southern Africa is tilting towards its dark hours, quitting the brazen glare of day by casting up a hoard of evocative colours, yellow of desert sands, red of blood and amber of beasts’ watchful eyes. Soon the night sky will be all around and over us, a complete hemisphere of beauty, layered black with pinpricks of light beyond counting, like velvet picked out with diamante. The Milky Way is folded and draped as a magnificent diaphanous white sash, swathing across the huge expanse.
For now, he has only three things to do, all of which come easily to him: - spot species, sing songs and kiss Mummy. He is content, calm, radiating peace and loveliness.
I am watching him. I have been watching him since ere this holiday began.
Before breakfast, I make sure he is clean, toileted and dressed neatly. I will help select food which is gluten and dairy free, as we’ve found this helps keep his bowels regular, and I will cut up his food for him. I make him hold the fork and sit next to him to prompt him to use it, rather than using fingers. I ask him to lean forward to eat so food doesn’t fall on his T-shirt, and encourage him to finish and have his drink. I make him wipe his mouth, and then do it for him. I remind him to say thank you. I prompt him to reply if he’s asked a question, so people don’t think he’s either ignoring them, or that he doesn’t like them, neither of which is true. He’s probably scanning the horizon for eagle, or avidly listening to a distant bird song.
He likes to pester one of our companions on the cruiser to show him the app on his phone of bird songs and images. I lean towards them both during this time to try to make sure he is polite and not overly demanding. I frequently ask the guest something about himself to make him feel valued. I don’t want him to feel like a carcass that a vulture is pecking at. Sometimes, Max will say sweet or wise things, which we both will be surprised about, and enjoy.
I try to find things for him to do whilst the men are out fishing, reading mainly, and more bird-watching from the big boat. He had been out with Gus fishing on the first morning and the other men were horrified to realise he was casting with no understanding of where the hook was flicking, and nearly caught someone’s ear with it. Gus is always over-optimistic about his abilities, but it was gently explained to him that Max couldn’t come again.
At sleeping time, I put his plastic bed cover down on his sheets and help him put on his pull-ups the correct way round, back to the back and front to the front. Despite the pad, his pyjamas will still need to be washed by hand in the morning and hung in the cabin to dry. He sleeps soundly and for long hours. I enjoy my holiday through him as I must always do, taking care of his needs first. I am happy he is a hit with the other guests, and count this as a job well done. I can make sure he isn’t a chore to have around; otherwise I wouldn’t have agreed to come.
Above all, on this holiday, I am watching and making sure he doesn’t fall into the water, either from the cruiser, or from this little fishing boat. There is danger all around. In Africa it is clear and apparent: - drowning, contracting bilharzia from swallowing the lake water, or being eaten by hippo or crocodile.
I will need to watch him all his life. My biggest worry at home in UK, is the more covert crocodile of abuse, and in my opinion, religious fervour is the invisibility cloak that this predator often wears. For this reason, we do not attend churches.
If those endless skies of wonder are home to the Father of the Fisher of Men, then may he protect this vulnerable boy. In the flimsy net which our child has been given, may he catch only happiness.