Patricia Major (now Patricia Moore)
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Patricia, taken approx
1963 |
Patricia
was a pupil at Trinity from 1960 to 1967; after leaving school she
trained as a teacher in Derbyshire and then returned to live and
work in Northampton. In 1970, she married Alan Moore, who was
at Trinity School from 1956 to 1963, and they have two sons, who
also went to Trinity.
The family spent 1990 in Toowoomba, Queensland, Australia on a
teacher exchange programme and Patricia and Alan returned to Perth,
Australia in 1998 on a similar programme. Since 2000, Patricia
has spent up to 6 weeks of the year in Africa and, more recently
Asia, working as a volunteer. Here is her account of her life
living and working in local conditions.
Click on any image
below to see a larger version, which may have more detail.
Voluntary Work in Africa
Shandukani School, Masia, Limpopo, South Africa, 2000
I have long held a
personal ambition to experience living and working alongside people
in a developing country, sharing their culture, and learning at
first hand about issues in their education. I had the first
opportunity to fulfil this ambition in 2000. With the help of a
Cambridge based organisation called Link Africa, I was able to live
and work in a small, rural and very isolated village in the Limpopo
region of South Africa for 6 weeks. I shared a tiny house with the
first wife of the head teacher of the local school and her two
children. The head teacher lived nearby with his second wife and her
children. During my six-week stay, I had very little contact with
other white people, and even less with my family in England. There
was no telephone, only occasional electricity and a water standpipe
at the end of the track where I lived. I worked in a number of local
schools, teaching, giving workshops and helping with school
development planning and fundraising.
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| My
walk home from school |
Lessons under the tree |
Meeting with parents |
Kamurasi School, Masindi, Uganda, Africa 2001
My voluntary work in 2000 didn’t really compare
with the isolation and poverty of Uganda, where I spent the summer
of 2001. Nothing could have prepared me for the beauty of Uganda,
for the unreserved friendliness of my community or the poverty and
deprivation of the school and its pupils. Here I lived on the school
compound, where a number of very basic houses were built to
encourage teachers to attend school on a regular basis. There was no
water, no electricity and I shared my room with a number of bats, as
well as the usual spiders, flies and mosquitoes. I had to go
outside, down a little track, for the toilet, a hole in the ground.
I regularly taught groups of up to 200 pupils, and became used to
members of staff looking and listening through windows.
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My neighbours outside a typical Ugandan
Kitchen |
Classrooms were very basic often with
over 100 pupils |
My toilet |
However, the rewards were great and they remain
with me today. Of course the staff and pupils were grateful for my
help and I brought back a wealth of tangible reminders of Africa.
Tape recordings of children proudly singing the National Anthem;
photographs of tables piled high with local fruit and vegetables;
and local goods, ill-afforded by my hosts but given with love and a
warm generosity. There were other, practical reminders of a simple
but harsh life: a charcoal burner, reminding me of long, happy hours
spent preparing meals in a daily ritual largely despised in the
consumer world of our own sophisticated society; Ugandan clothes,
chosen with pride by my head teacher, that I wore with equal pride
during my daily life at school; a charcoal iron, bringing back
memories of my disastrous attempt at ironing those same clothes by
candlelight. There were memories of a journey with school
colleagues, travelling at night against all the rules after enjoying
native music at a festival in a remote village, and sharing sodas
under a sky laden with stars. There were memories of pangs of
homesickness, missing my family as I lay in my dark, tiny room,
listening to the night sounds of the African bush as I vowed never
to take their love and support for granted again. Perhaps the best
memories were of conversations with Ugandan friends. There was no
television here, but there was time to talk, to share confidences,
and to learn of new worlds, often discovering strangely similar
philosophies in these worlds that were so different.
Initially I was as nervous as during my first
teaching practice, feeling very uncertain, and doubting my own
ability, but this feeling soon disappeared as we all shared our
skills and experiences. I learned again that the gift of good health
is priceless. The pupils became my children, and at the funeral of a
child I found that in a county where death is almost a way of life,
life is most certainly not cheap.
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The funeral of one of my pupils, who died
from rabies |
The track where we crashed the truck into
a swamp |
In the school grounds with friends and
colleagues |
Tshilidzini Special School, Thoyandou, Limpopo, South Africa
2003
July 2003 saw a new change in direction, and I
returned to work in Limpopo, in my favoured area of special needs.
For over 5 weeks I worked at a large, residential special school,
living in the room next to the dormitories for blind and partially
sighted children. In many ways this was one of my loneliest
experiences. Once school had finished, sometimes as early as 12.30pm
I had very little contact with other adults until the following
morning. Teaching staff left the compound for their homes, and I
used the time playing with the children, and trying to communicate
with the housemothers, many of whom had limited spoken English.
I worked with the children with physical disabilities, and tried to
set up regular exercise sessions for them. I gave workshops on
feeding, correct seating and the use of wheelchairs, and became
quite adept at adjusting and fixing wheels. I also became involved
with an orphanage for street children whose parents had died from
AIDs.
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Disability was no barrier to progress |
The children played happily in the school
grounds |
Ready for bed, with Teddy, in the
dormitory |
Makombandlela Youth Movement, Elim, Limpopo,
South Africa, 2004
I retired from my job as a deputy head teacher in
July 2004, making time to enjoy a rare holiday in Vietnam and
Cambodia with my husband, and then to work as a volunteer in
October/November. Once again I returned to Limpopo, and stayed
with a local family. For the first time I had the luxury of an
indoor toilet, occasional running water and electricity unless there
was a power cut. A mobile phone enabled me to keep in regular
contact with my family. I worked with a great group of young people,
who were promoting HIV/AIDs awareness in the community, teaching
them basic computer skills.
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Learning to use a computer |
Making new friends |
The track outside my house |
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A neighbouring village |
Collecting wood |
Traditional costume |
Thalpitiya, Wadduwa,
Southern Province, Sri Lanka, 2005
Along with thousands of other people I was moved
by the plight of the victims of the Asian earthquake on Boxing Day,
2004, and was fortunate enough to visit Sri Lanka the following
summer. I lived with a delightful Buddhist family who welcomed me
unconditionally and with whom I have formed what I hope will be a
lasting friendship. I spent my mornings working at Aruna Boys Home,
just outside Panadura town, 30 km south of Colombo. This was home
and school to 15 boys and young men with learning difficulties, many
with Downs Syndrome. I felt very comfortable in this environment,
enjoying their loving, affectionate ways, as well as their
mischievous and challenging behaviour. We sang, drew, counted,
fetched water when the well ran dry, gathered coconuts and laughed
at the antics of the monkeys outside; language was no barrier to
enjoyment.
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| Drawing of the tsunami by one of the
students |
Making envelopes to sell in the local
market |
With staff and students in the school
grounds |
I spent my afternoons working in tsunami camps
with families who had lost their homes and possessions in the recent
disaster. Many had lost family members and friends and were still
traumatised by the experience. The camps were grim, with searing
heat, and vicious mosquitoes. The frequent monsoon downpours brought
more misery. However, I witnessed incredible human resilience –
attempts to make gardens from a hostile environment, carving fishing
rods from branches; I received offers of coconut juice and
encountered unreserved friendliness. The adults were as keen as the
children to join in with activities.
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| Pinwatta Tsunami Camp |
It was not much fun when it
rained |
The babies were hard to
resist |
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| Making a fishing rod |
Having fun with glue |
A tsunami family |
My husband joined me after one month and we spent
the following two weeks relaxing and travelling. I had been
initially unprepared for the frenetic pace of life, but one month of
travelling parts of the Galle Road and negotiating the prices of
taxis had made me somewhat blasé about the whole experience. I
travelled with new found friends, spending up to ten hours squashed
into a decrepit minibus, playing the inevitable game of chance –
would I or wouldn’t I live to tell the tale. I had even spent one
weekend backpacking alone, taking time to escape the hustle and
bustle of work, and to reflect on my new way of life. Alan took a
while to adjust, but soon we were exploring happily. As always, the
Lonely Planet was our guide, and we were horrified to find that many
of our chosen resting places had totally disappeared in the tsunami.
But we were never homeless, finding less luxurious but equally
interesting places to lay our heads.
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| People were still living in
these houses |
Many people were killed in
this train |
Picture postcard beauty |
Door Step School, Pune, Maharashtra, India
2006 saw another change of destination for me,
and I spent a month working amongst the poorest children in India,
with an incredible organisation called Door Step School, in the
slums of Pune. Door Step School helps educate some of Pune’s most
vulnerable and disadvantaged children, who normally live on the
streets or in slum areas or are the children of construction workers
living in makeshift camps close to construction sites. A bus,
‘School on Wheels’ also provided for children from slum areas where
no classroom was available.
My working day was spent mainly in a tiny, tin
hut at the back of a construction site, with a mud floor and few
facilities. Everyone was welcome, from babies to grandparents, and
lack of space did not equate to lack of enthusiasm. However, it soon
became obvious that, much as I enjoyed working with the children, my
time could be better spent working alongside teachers. I happily
gave demonstration lessons, workshops and a held ‘drop-in’ sessions
where teachers could come and share problems and successes. It was
an honour to be part of this community.
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| A Door Step School |
A typical construction site |
In the heart of the slums |
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| School on wheels |
BalKalyan Sanstha |
My host family |
I continue to be amazed at the resilience of
people in such situations. Many of the slum dwellers were suffering
from HIV/Aids, and their future is bleak. I lived in a beautiful
home, enjoying clean water and electricity, and every day I pondered
the inequality of life.
I also visited an organisation called BalKalyan
Sanstha, a recreational and cultural centre that provides broad
based facilities to help in the growth and development of young
people with disabilities. Here, qualified teachers and coaches
create a positive, safe and fun environment. I felt I learnt much,
and had little to offer, but I promised that I would return and
bring a parachute to enhance their recreational opportunities.
After a month, Alan came to join me in India and
we enjoyed a holiday in the ‘Golden Triangle’, travelling from
Mumbai to Delhi, then on to Agra, Jaipur, Jodhpur and Udaipur.
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| The Taj Mahal |
We enjoyed meeting local families |
A street dweller (we put the teddy
there!) |
Ashraya Initiative for Children, Pune, Maharashtra, India
The lure of India proved strong, and I returned to Pune in March,
2007. I felt I had some unfinished work to complete at DoorStep
School, and also at BalKalyan Sanstha.
I was saddened but not surprised to learn that
most the children I had taught at DoorStep School only a few months
previously had now moved on from their construction site, and for
many this meant the end to their ‘formal’ education. However, it was
great to see my former colleagues and to catch up on both personal
news and new developments in education. I helped plan and deliver
workshops, and also visited more children on construction sites. I
was delighted to see that the teachers were embracing new ideas, and
that the children were learning new skills.
The staff at BalKalyan Sanstha were delighted
with their parachute, kindly donated by Greenfields Special School,
Northampton, and it’s difficult to say whether the students or staff
had the most fun.
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| DoorStep School |
In the classroom |
Under the parachute at BalKalyan Sanstha |
My main work in Pune was with a group of former
street children and I lived and worked happily with them for 5
weeks.
The Ashraya Initiative for Children (AIC) began
in early 2004 as a small group of college students began working
toward a better life for street children in Pune, India. Since the
arrival of the first three children in June 2005, it has grown to
house nine children in the residential programme, and serve an
additional twelve girls in its educational outreach program.
AIC believes in investing as much as possible in
each and every child, and for this reason has committed to remaining
small, so that the children might grow up in a loving and supporting
family environment rather than in a larger institutional setting.
The outreach programme is similarly structured, providing financial,
nutritional, health and emotional support to twelve girls in the
neighbouring busti (slum), so that they might continue their
education and break the cycle of poverty.
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| The street where we lived |
The adjoining slums |
Girls from the outreach programme |
It was a great opportunity for me to embrace the
family atmosphere, and I was delighted to join in all their
activities, from formal education to football, from delousing hair
(my own included) to visiting the local markets. The children also
enjoyed the fun activities of a parachute and caused quite a stir in
the local street where we lived. For the first time Alan joined me
in my work after a couple of weeks, and not only helped with many
practical jobs around the home, but also taught the children some
useful DIY skills.
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| At the local market |
DIY |
The parachute |
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| Learning to count |
Tennis in the street |
Deep Griha |
Deep Griha Society, Pune, Maharashtra,
India, 2008
Whilst in Pune, in 2007, we visited an organisation called Deep
Griha - meaning ‘Light House’, an independent charitable
organisation working to better the lives of people in the slums of
Pune. I decided then that I would like to support this organisation,
and promised to return the following year.
I arrived in February 2008, and was asked to help raise disability
issues amongst the staff of Deep Griha, and ultimately the wider
population – a formidable task, considering the pressures and the
complexities of the social structures in slum communities. All I
could realistically hope to do was start the process and hope others
will continue. I was fortunate that this remit gave me the
opportunity to work with all of their projects, including Women’s
Empowerment, HIV/AIDS and rural development.
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| HIV awareness programme |
City of child – refuge for destitute children |
Grandmother and grandchild |
The office was based in one of the largest slum communities in Pune.
Each day I tried to find time to meet the local people, venturing
further and further into the maze of narrow passages teeming with
men, women, children, babies, goats, pigs and dogs – so many dogs!
Every space is filled with what can only be called resourceful
constructions – homes built from corrugated iron, wood, cardboard,
sacking, string and much more. I was greeted with only kindness and
made to feel so welcome. It was a privilege to be invited into
homes, and to be encouraged to cuddle the babies
During my weekends and spare time, I explored alone, enjoying the
exhilaration of rickshaw travel. I visited the children from the
Ashraya where I worked the previous year, delighting in how they had
grown and progressed. I visited my friends from DoorStep School and
BalKalyan Sanstha, and stayed with my friend Anjali, enjoying
catching up with news, shopping and going out to lunch.
Marion Play Home, Trivandrum,
Kerala, India, January, 2010
In July 2009, I was fortunate to meet a group of
special needs teachers in Northampton, UK. They had travelled
from Kerala, India and were here to look at the provision for
children with special needs. We met a number of times, and I
still can't remember if I was invited to visit their school or if I
invited myself. Whichever it was, I was made very welcome when
I visited Marion Play Home, Kerala in January 2010.
There are about 80 young people at the school, from 5 to 28 years.
Most attend school daily, although there are hostel facilities for
15 children. I travelled to school on the school bus, and we
hooted our way through the side streets of Trivandrum, picking up
the children on our way.
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| We travelled by school bus |
The parachute was popular with staff
and students |
With the students, in the school
grounds |
Initially I lived with a delightful Tibetan lady
and her Indian husband; later I stayed with Akku, a 14-year-old
student from the school, and her mother. Akku has Downs
Syndrome and to share the daily life of a person with a disability
was another new experience for me.
There were few facilities in the school, and I concentrated on
teaching communication skills, drama and practical maths. The
children were not dissimilar to those in England – quirky, caring
and very challenging. As always, I left feeling I had learnt
more than I had taught.
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| I bought resources from the local
beach |
This boy had not been in a class for
over four years |
Akku, with whom I lived for a while |
I have now retired from full time teaching. I am
fortunate to have the support of my family, including my husband Dr
Alan Moore, and my two sons, all ex-Trinity pupils. Each
journey is getting harder, and I miss my home comforts and my
family. I used to pretend that each trip would be my last, and
that I was ready to hang up my rucksack. But the lure of the
unknown continues to beckon, and this time, there are no doubts in
my mind. I will return...
 Dr Patricia Moore (nee Major)
To contact Patricia, click on the
envelope on the right. This is not her normal e-mail address,
but it will be automatically forwarded to her. |
