My Indian adventure.
by Niamh Connor
Date: 24 January
Many people say that life begins at the end of your comfort zone. For me, travelling 4,500 miles to a whole new culture and environment
was definitely out of my comfort zone. After recently completing a year abroad in Germany, the prospect of sitting at home waiting for university
to restart after a whirlwind busy year was something I was desperate to avoid. It was at this point that I decided that I would try and put my
summer to good use and do some volunteering. Although I have only ever volunteered at Lourdes before, I found the trip to be one of the best
weeks of my life and the memories from the trip have stayed with me ever since. In my search for volunteering options, I came across the Sylvia
Wright Trust and the Rangammal School. After growing up in Leeds, I had through both my parish and school heard before of the work of Sylvia
Wright and her inspiring mission to help others.
After many last minute organisations, I set off on Tuesday 26th July to Manchester airport completely oblivious of what to expect but excited
for what lay ahead. At Manchester airport, I met Jessica Lofthouse, a trained speech therapist, and after travelling to Chennai we met with Frankie
Wilkinson, our other travel companion. The three of us were met by the friendly Mr Jayraj at Chennai airport and within minutes we were on our way
to the school. For someone who had not visited India before, I spent the 4 hour journey to the school taking in the sights, sounds and smells in
all their glory. Nevertheless, it took us approximately 5 minutes to realise that the car horn is more important than the brakes in India!
Our arrival at the school was everything we were told it would be. Within seconds we were surrounded by children, beaming with smiles and wanting
to welcome us to the school. As I had no experience with sign language or Tamil, I was undoubtedly apprehensive about communicating with the children
and what use I would be. Nevertheless, this was a wasted fear as the children were teaching me sign language within minutes and by the next morning
I knew my alphabet!
The three of us spent the first few days adjusting to life at the school. In doing so, we observed the lessons, the daily life at the school,
and were even able to visit the hospital established by Madam Sylvia. Although Madam was away on vacation for our stay at the school, many of
the teachers and students expressed how they missed their Madam and were looking forward to her return which clearly shows how much of an important
presence she has at the school.
After settling in, Jessica started her work assessing the speech of the children through individual evaluations with the help of some of the teachers.
With Jessica at work, Frankie and I had the pleasure of going to the different classrooms and playing with the children. Following a few trips to hobbycraft
before leaving England, we had an abundance of craft supplies and were able to visit the different classes and let the fun begin. From hand prints to
butterflies to cards for visiting parents, Frankie and I alone had a great time.. and the children seemed to enjoy it greatly. Alongside our crafts,
we played with bubbles, skipping ropes and even learnt some traditional Indian playground games. Amongst the younger children, hide and seek was always a hit,
despite the blatant cheating of some!
On one of the Sundays, we were lucky enough to watch the older boys playing cricket and were impressed by the talent of all them. Although we had a
go ourselves at both the bowling and batting, we unfortunately did not make the team. This same weekend we visited the local town, Tiruvannamalai,
where we saw both the Temple and the Ashram and really enjoyed taking in the sites.
One of my most memorable moments of the trip has to be a school trip to the Golden Temple and Zoo in Vellore. After being informed of the school trip
only minutes before, the three of us were just as excited as the children for it. Throughout the trip the children were so well behaved and were even
gifted a large bag of free toys by a market stall owner, which they were so thrilled about. On the way home, we had an impromptu dance show on our bus,
where the children truly put the three of us volunteers to shame with their amazing dance moves. The laughing and smiling of the children was infectious
and really made the journey.
Throughout my whole stay at the school, I was amazed by the happiness of the school children, something I doubt is the same at home. Every child seemed so
grateful and happy to be at the school and I think this is a credit to the good work done at the school. The teachers and staff were so welcoming with many
of them saying ‘please see me as your sister, if you ever need anything please let me know’.
I personally feel as if the experience has been unforgettable and taught me many things, about life and myself. I am certain that I have gained more out of
this experience than the school was able to gain from me. The children have reaffirmed my belief that it is the small things in life that matter. One of the
gifts that I was sent along with was a batch of pens. I witnessed the children receiving a pen each and they were so thankful and excited which really touched me.
I am so thankful to have had the opportunity to visit the school and India. I am certain that I will continue to look back at the hundreds of photos and
reflect on the experience with sheer joy. For those considering visiting the school, I would say go ahead. Before visiting, I was advised to take India for
India and refrain from comparing it with home or the western world. This I believe was great advice and what all should do. Don’t worry about the small things
such as bucket showers or spicy food for breakfast, you will quickly adjust and it will become normality. Embrace the culture, the environment and the attitudes
to life. There are so many positives of volunteering, many of which will stay with you for life. So if you are questioning volunteering, I would say why not?
I can confirm that life does begin at the end of your comfort zone and it is an inspiring and exciting life that lies ahead. I would like to thank all who helped
both organise my visit to the Rangammal School and those who made my experience at the school so rewarding.
NIAMH CONNOR
The Shed That Fed a Million Children.
Reviewed by Miriam Reynolds
Date: 20 November
The shed that fed a million children is the extraordinary story of Mary's Meals.
It tells the story of a fish farmer from Scotland coming up with an idea that would change the lives of over a million children worldwide.
It all started when, after watching a news bulletin in war torn Bosnia in the 90's Magnus Mc Farlane-Barrow and his brother decided, over a
pint in their local pub, that they would collect aid and deliver it to the war torn country in Manus's clapped out VW camper.
On returning home Magnus discovered the public had carried on donating filling his father's old ramshackle shed with goods. The donations
kept coming and soon, it became necessary to set up a charity.
Manus decided that his next trip would be Malawi. It was whilst on his trip to Malawi that Magnus met 14 year old Edward on a visit to his
families shack. Edward was the eldest of six children, his father had died and his mother was dying of aids. When Magnus asked the boy what
he wished for his future the boy answered "would like to have enough food to eat and go to school one day." This simple wish from this 14
year old led to the idea that would change the lives of millions of children world wide!
Magnus created a programme called Mary's Meals, which provides meals for children that attend school. Millions of children cannot attend school
due to starvation or have to work to help pay for food. Even if they attend school they are so hungry and malnourished that learning becomes
impossible.
Magnus realised that the way out of poverty was education and that if schools could provide a child with a meal, it would be a great incentive
for poor parents to send their children to school and therefore breaking the destructive cycle of hunger, poverty, disease and illiteracy. It costs
an average of £12.50 to feed a child for a whole year, and most of the donations come from ordinary people around the world.
Manus says the reason Mary's Meals works is because it is the community who owns it, they are in charge of providing volunteers to cook the food and
also to guard it from thieves!
The schools must agree to organise a rota of mothers to come in every day and cook the food and of course they have the incentive when it's their
children being fed. The community must also agree to plant and tend to a copse of trees, which can be chopped down as fuel for the stoves, rather than
felling existing forests.
Mary's Meals continues to expand meeting the most needy children around the world and the HQ for Mary's Meals is the lopsided shed Magnus and his
siblings used as a snooker room. The reason for this is he wants to be reminded of why and how this remarkable work began and wants to be reminded
of humble beginnings from a young boy's wish that was so simple but led to something so powerful. On his shed wall is a photo of Edward and his siblings
with their dying mother and is constantly reminded where it all began, from the simple words of a 14 year old boy "I would like to have enough food
to eat and go to school one day."
The book is a first hand journey of how Mary's Meals started, but it contains humour and little anecdotes that made me laugh and cry but it most of
all it educated me. Nothing pulls at the heart strings like hungry children as I witnessed on a trip to India in 2013.
I loved the idea that if these children can get an education poverty and most importantly reliance on aid, which I believe these people don't want
but don't have the choice, may become a thing of the past.
The thing I loved most about this book is the power of the message that lay in its simplicity. The idea could have been thought by anyone and to think
it all started in a ramshackle shed.
Manus McFarlane-Barrow the unassuming fish farmer from Argyll in Scotland has to be the world’s most reluctant hero.
I have a copy of the book if anyone would like to read it or it can be ordered from most bookshops with all royalties going directly to Mary's Meals.
Miriam Reynolds
WORLD YOUTH DAY - Krakow
~ Rebecca Wilson
Date: 9 November
In July Amelia and I went to Krakow for world youth day with 41 other members of Leeds diocese and a million others from around the world. I had one of the
most unforgettable twelve days of my life where I met amazing people, learned more about the family of the church and saw my own faith in a whole new light.
I spent the time in the twelve days we had together feeling so lucky to be catholic. When describing the trip to others, I found myself finishing most sentences
with “but with Catholics”. For example - “I can’t believe everyone was just running around the streets chanting with their flags. It was like being at a world cup but with Catholics” or “I love praise and worship even more now there’s a million of us. This is like the best concert ever but with Catholics”. I felt so proud to be a catholic, and especially proud to be a young catholic when I heard that pope Francis wanted to recruit one million young Catholics to do the work of the church. When I saw him declare this on the big screen and as my radio translated his words in my head I immediately thought “me, I’ll do it. I want to be part of this” As I think back this was one of my favourite parts of the pilgrimage. I just felt so hopeful for the future- the future of my own faith and the future of the church Even when I was feeling discouraged I kept this hope with me. The walks to and from the field for the pope’s vigil were tough, and they reminded me that we all have a cross to carry. Still, I knew that if anyone could help us, it was Jesus, or sister Chiara with an umbrella.
I think that because the week had so many ups and downs I could really appreciate what was important. When I wasn’t caught up in my own joy I would think about
what I had left behind, I thought about the relationships I had with my friends and family, who would I be when I came home and the festival atmosphere had gone?
I thought and prayed about it a lot, but I think what really helped me was the people I was surrounded with. The new friends I had made and the LDYS leaders were
so supportive, and through speaking together and listening to each other’s testimonies I knew that with any issue I could possibly encounter God would be there for me.
Another thing I took away from my pilgrimage to Krakow was the desire to do it all over again. I’ve met with God in fields and arenas, celebrated mass with
millions of others, and hopped over a fence I wasn’t supposed in an attempt to get closer to the pope. If I can experience even a fraction of the joy I felt
in Poland when we go to Panama in 2019, I’ll feel like the luckiest person in the world.
I’m so grateful to the parish for every prayer and pound donated that helped me to get to Krakow last summer, I couldn’t have done it without your support.
I would recommend world youth day to anyone that wants to get involved and I hope I’ve inspired other young people to be a part of the great youth events that
the diocese provides. I also want to thank Helen and Father Lawrie for organising mine and Amelia’s fundraising and for being extremely patient with us - this
late letter of thanks will tell you that I am the most disorganised person to ever exist - so thank you so much.
Found and not forgotten
~ Martin Connor
Date: November 2016 (2011)
What initially struck me was that it wasn’t that far really, it took just nine hours travelling time from leaving the homes of where some of these
boys lived in Otley to where they died in France. It doesn’t seem like a long time does it? Just nine hours from Cambridge fields to the fields of the
Somme. I don’t mean to be disrespectful when I refer to them as boys but when I stood alongside my son Thomas aged 19, looking at the grave of another
Thomas, that of Thomas Mann who like ourselves lived in Menston, who joined up in 1914 aged 16, and who was killed in action on the Somme on August 17th
1916 aged 18 then I cannot help but still think of them both in part as boys.
Like many others I have always felt a great personal debt of gratitude for the sacrifices so many of my country men and women made to protect my freedom and for
many years I held a notion of finding and visiting the last resting places of all those recorded on the Memorial Stone and Roll of Honour of our Parish of Our
Lady and All Saints. Last year’s publication by Chris Power, the History Group and Otley Museum of the booklet describing the stories of the fallen proved to
be the trigger. In that booklet there are nineteen names associated to the Great War of 1914-18 and I decided that would be my target. Of the nineteen, sixteen
have graves or memorials in France and Belgium, two in Otley and one in Malta. So having to put aside a trip to Malta for the moment that left eighteen to locate
and on June 9th I along with my son Thomas set out to do so. We started our journey in Otley cemetery with John Walsh then we drove to Dover. We took the ferry to
France and headed South East down to Picardy. Over the next two days we travelled back in a North Westerly direction to the Belgian coast at Nieuwport, stopping
along the way at places such as Albert, Thiepval, Arras, Ypres and more. We visited all of the sixteen fallen we set out to find on foreign soil, eventually returning
to Otley cemetery to end our journey with Egbert Corry.
Along the way we saw great contrasts; some have graves, others have no known resting place. Thomas Brogan is commemorated at Thiepval; the largest British
military monument in the world which records the names of 72,000 men who fell in the Somme sector and who have no known grave. John Finnegan lies at rest in
perfect silence amongst fields of swaying wheat in Queens Cemetery just off the Serre Road along with only 179 other identified souls. To reach the grave
of James Mc Sorley you have to walk through a rural farmyard, to reach Joseph Currie at Arras you walk through the city streets. Every site has one thing
in common though, they are all immaculately kept. No one could fail but to be impressed by the work of the Commonwealth War Graves Commission, who ensure all
the memorials and cemeteries are maintained to the highest standards.
At Tyne Cot the largest Commonwealth cemetery in the world which commemorates Joseph Bona, and Thomas Pearson we found the car park full of cars and bus loads of
children visiting the site. At Sanctuary Wood where Norman Pawson is buried there was just a lone elderly man presumably visiting a Grandfather, Great Uncle or the
like. We ended our continental leg at Koksijde in Belgium, it was a warm sunny afternoon and the scent of the roses and flowers that adorn the borders and gravesides
filled the air and Tom and I sat down as we had everywhere else along the way to sign the Visitors Book which is kept in a tabernacle type arrangement at each venue.
We were alone and after signing the book I turned the page to see who like us had visited and from where. In Koksijde there are graves from many Commonwealth countries
and there were names in the book from Canada, Australia, New Zealand and all the home nations and then as I turned a page there was a name from Otley, entered just two
weeks previous. As I said at the beginning of this story it’s not that far really and I was heartened that others were making the journey also.
We returned to England and ended our trip by revisiting Otley cemetery to find Egbert Corry. Earlier in the trip we had visited his brother’s memorial at Arras and
now we aimed to find him. Egbert had enlisted as a Private with the Bradford ‘Pals’ Battalion that were so devastated on the first day of the Battle of the
Somme in 1916. I doubt if Egbert ever served with the Pals as he received a commission to the rank of Lieutenant and transferred to the Prince of Wales Own West
Yorkshire Regiment. However I am sure he would have learnt that the Pals suffered close to a thousand casualties on the first day of the battle, with the total
Commonwealth casualty list for that one day alone numbering over 60,000 men. Just over two weeks later Egbert was seriously injured, he returned to England but
later died of his injuries. He was the hardest of all to find as his is the only grave not to have a traditional Commonwealth War Graves Commission headstone
however we eventually found him, the last of the eighteen we had set out after.
John Walsh; Norbert Corry; Norman Pawson;
John Currie; Joseph Currie; Joseph Bona;
Thomas E Mann; John S Barrett; Thomas Pearson;
Thomas Brogan; James Mc Sorley; William Duffissey;
John Finnegan; Thomas E Duffissey; William Currie;
Edgar Barrett; Charles Shaw; Egbert Corry.
Eighteen found and none forgotten. . . now there is just Michael Nangle on my list. Now where did we put that brochure on Malta?
Martin Connor
→ Our Lady & All Saints Parish ROLL of HONOUR
Found and not forgotten – Epilogue
~ Martin Connor
Date: November 2016 (2011)
In a recent edition of Wharfetales I wrote of the journey my son Thomas and I took in 2011 to visit the graves of the World War One
fallen listed on the Memorial Stone and Roll of Honour of our Parish of Our Lady and All Saints. Of the nineteen men listed we found
all the eighteen whose grave or monument is located in Western Europe however there was one that eluded us, that of Michael Nangle.
Michael was originally from Roscommon, he worked in the Menston Asylum that many of us knew as High Royds and in 1914 he enlisted in the Duke of
Wellingtons Regiment. In 1915 Michael was in action at Gallipoli and on August 21st he was seriously injured and was later evacuated to Malta but
died of his wounds on September 14th 1915 and is buried in Addolorata Cemetery in Malta.
Recently, a friend of mine was travelling to Malta so I asked him if he would help me by trying to find and photograph Michael’s grave. He accepted
the challenge and fortunately he was successful.
Michael shares a grave with two other fallen comrades; they are buried close to the foot of the Cross of Honour.
With Michael found I can close the chapter and cross the project off my list. One day I hope to visit Michael in person but until then it’s good to know
that all are found and not forgotten and that their names will continue to be remembered by the people of Otley and in particular those Parishioners of
Our Lady and All Saints.
I was prompted to write this epilogue after hearing the song ‘The Green Field of France’ by the Irish band ‘The Fureys ‘ on the radio. The lyric is both
poignant and eloquent and says it all.
Oh how do you do, young Willy McBride
Do you mind if I sit here down by your graveside
And rest for a while in the warm summer sun
I've been walking all day, and I'm nearly done
And I see by your gravestone you were only nineteen
When you joined the great fallen in 1916
Well I hope you died quick
And I hope you died clean
Or Willy McBride, was is it slow and obscene
Chorus; Did they beat the drums slowly
Did they play the fife lowly
Did they sound the death march as they lowered you down
Did the band play the last post and chorus
Did the pipes play the flowers of the forest
And did you leave a wife or a sweetheart behind
In some loyal heart is your memory enshrined
And though you died back in 1916
To that loyal heart you're forever nineteen
Or are you a stranger without even a name
Forever enshrined behind some old glass pane
In an old photograph torn, tattered, and stained
And faded to yellow in a brown leather frame
‘Chorus’
The sun’s shining down on these green fields of France
The warm wind blows gently and the red poppies dance
The trenches have vanished long under the plough
No gas, no barbed wire, no guns firing now
But here in this graveyard that's still no man’s land
The countless white crosses in mute witness stand
To man's blind indifference to his fellow man
And a whole generation who were butchered and damned
‘Chorus’
And I can't help but wonder oh Willy McBride
Do all those who lie here know why they died
Did you really believe them when they told you the cause
Did you really believe that this war would end wars
Well the suffering, the sorrow, the glory, the shame
The killing and dying it was all done in vain
Oh Willy McBride it all happened again
And again, and again, and again, and again
‘Chorus’
My reflections on 2 months with Sylvia Wright
~ Emma Nicholson
Date: January 2016
Earlier this year I was privileged to be able to visit the Rangammal Memorial School in South India, a school for hearing impaired children,
founded and run by Sylvia Wright. Before going, I was somewhat nervous as I am not a teacher and have never filled the role of classroom assistant.
I had no experience, no qualifications, only a little knowledge of sign language, and knew nothing of their own language. I was also uneasy about
the thought of spending so much time away from home. My fears about everything quickly vanished as the children in the School literally swamped us with the
warmth of their welcome! They were so excited and throughout the entire stay filled our lives with their smiles, their joyfulness, and their overwhelming sense
of simply wanting to be around us. If you were talking to some children to your left, a child on your right would put her hand on your cheek and turn your
face towards hers. It was so moving.
The teachers too were so kind, even cooking meals at home which they would bring into school for us.
It’s hard to imagine but all the children really did seem happy all the time. They were enthusiastic to learn, always interested to know about us,
and always pleased to see us as we visited the different class groups. Most mornings they would bring us a flower for us to wear in our hair.
One day I was sitting on the ground in the sun watching the boys play cricket. Without saying a word, one boy came across, went into the School, brought out a
chair, and placed it in the shade for me. I thought about how he had communicated his care for me without using any language at all. I was struck by the fact
that caring for each other doesn’t need language, whether you are hearing or not.
I was able to spend some time with Sylvia herself who was pleased to talk about the changes that had been made over the years. I found her very unassuming,
but I felt quite honoured to be in her presence. There is a lovely new Centre being built for the severely disabled children but meanwhile the volunteers
have made the existing, slightly dilapidated, premises very attractive with paint and posters on the walls. The children there were full of smiles, really
enjoying playing together.
I felt very sad to leave those children as I had felt so privileged to have been part of their lives for the past 8 weeks. And they a part of mine.
I worried about what would become of them when they have to leave school. For some they will have known nothing else from the age of about 4 to 18.
They will leave the care and security of that wonderful environment to go into the outside world that is largely a “hearing world”, and I worried about how
they would cope.
When I returned to Otley everything was just the same. For a few days that troubled me. But then I realised that to everyone else, nothing has changed.
But have I? I’m still asking myself that question. I went partly because it was important for me to have time just for me. That sounds strange when I was
immersed totally in a school of 200 children, but it meant I I wanted as few distractions as possible. I was able to properly see and fully appreciate how
happy those children are with what they have... their very few material things and all of them with a disability too.
If anyone is thinking of volunteering to go out there as I did, I would say you have to be prepared to throw yourself into it. Just accept things for what they are.
You have to make do. And don’t worry if you’re not academic. The children there, just like the disabled at Lourdes, don’t care one bit! It’s far more about how
much love and laughter you can bring. And with children like I experienced in India, you can be sure they’ll bring loads too!
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