Apart from my sporting commitments as assistant coach to the BSA Amateur team, I have also become involved with a relatively small orphanage that is the brainchild, or more aptly, the heart’s work of Teddy Kalimanshi, the younger brother of the lady who is hosting me during my time in Lusaka.

Teddy is 24 years old, from the Kamwala (meaning literally small stone, but representing the fact that it is a place with many small stone, similar to what in Malta is Bahar ic-caghaq) Compound in Southern Lusaka, an employee with the Coptic Hospital in Northmead, just behind the school where we practice on a daily basis.

Since 2006 he has been taking charge of the livelihood of 30 children ranging from new-borns to teenagers, that have been left, due to various illnesses, misfortune and fate, with no one else to fend for them during the long journey childhood can be in such forsaken circumstances.

In order to try and make this journey a little more comfortable for these children, Teddy has been contributing the entirety of his own salary to the children and the carers in order to ensure (at least) a daily meal, an education to speak for them, and a roof over their heads.

During the past 6 weeks here in Lusaka, we have been meeting to see how it would be possible for me to provide any assistance to him and the children. He has been as forthright and open with me like a brother, with the humbleness of the most charitable of beings I have ever met.

Thanks to the joint cooperation of family and well wishers, during the course of these past 6 weeks I have managed to receive and collect a consignment of second hand clothing from various donors, including the Malta Football Association, which included second hand football wear, as well as other used sports wear from friends and clothing from family.

It was in this respect that a “party” was organised on Sunday 13 October, at the house of his Cousin in the Kabwata compound dotted with small round mud huts with grass thatched roofs and known, more respectfully, for the cultural village where local display their artisan skills in wood carvings, and a stone’s throw away from Lusaka’s central prison, its perimeter outlined by the tear-welling sight of decomposing and putrefying garbage.

With the usual African timing of things I was up at 7am for my 8am pick-up, which only rolled into the driveway at 8:45am. By 9:15am we parked in front of a string of blue painted wooden doors, their bottom edges eaten away by the water that flooded the parking lot, leaving a residue of maggot eaten frills, scratching the tiled floor with every gust of wind.

The government housing blocks are lined parallely, mirroring their weathered facades and humble interiors through the gaping windows, decorated only by the fading colours of strung washing across the dark holes concealing the mundane activities of the families living within.

Spaces are tight. Corridors just wide enough for a fully grown man to walk through, dented only by the doorways leading into a single bathroom, a bedroom, kitchen and living-dining room. Barely enough for a single person, let alone a family of four!

For this occasion, the apartment was a hive of bustling activity. Television blaring some cheap American martial arts movie, children running around, in and out, around the legs of people entering and exiting the living room where the meeting was to take place.

Children sat sunken shyly in the worn out green and white stripped sofas. Others were perched on the knees of the their older “brothers and sisters”, some were sitting on a glass-less window frame, whilst most sat quietly on the lanoline covered cement floor in between dangling, barefooted legs that never touched the floor.

Teddy had prepared everything, from an Introductory speech narrated by a teenage, soft spoken girl named Jessy, to a programme for the smooth and timely unfolding of the morning’s activities.

These were kicked off by a few church songs sang my Charles, a 13 year-old boy with a heavenly voice that reverberated beyond the walls of this tiny theatre, into the dryness of the barren exterior through the open windows and doors.

A welcome addresses by Teddy and myself followed, both accentuating the importance of education as a means to work their ways to a brighter more comfortable and prosperous future for themselves and their families. All the children repeated Teddy’s calls to assure him their dedication to their schooling and thanked him profusely for his tireless work for them.

This lead on to the exchange of gifts he had prepared for me: a shirt and trousers made from the traditional chitenge material (a wrap worn by women around the waist and also to carry babies or shopping on the back of their mothers) in the bright colours of the Zambian flag – Green, orange, black and red, and the Chipolopolo (National football team) in respect of my role as a football coach with BSA.

I was also presented with a Beanie and scarf which I duly endorsed to the laughter and cheers of all those around me.

Still donning my newly acquired garments (beanie and scarf included) I took over the “award ceremony” to present Teddy and the children the garments that had been provided by well wishers in Malta to the delighted faces and enthusiasm of the children tugging at my shirt and trousers beneath me.

To my surprise, the handing out of scarves from the Valletta – Juventus match held in Malta in January this year received the most resounding wave of acknowledgement and celebration, with all wearing them around their necks notwithstanding the 30 plus degrees, as decorative headdresses, around their waists, arms and wrists. The scene was typical of the fervour found at a football game around the stalls of the stadium, to which the scarves were waved in a chorus of cries in Nyanga, Bemba and English!

As he children settled down quietly to munch on their snack of sliced bread, a chocolate biscuit and juice, carers thanked both Teddy and myself for our contributions to the children’s future and the ongoing support they are assured, will continue to be provided from us. One by one children came up to me to take photos, some even requesting my phone number and a specific gift the next time round I visit.

I left the home amidst embraces from all the children as well as the carers present.

Little hands and boney arms groping to get a strong enough hold around my back to hug me closer to their nimble bodies, which I was scared to embrace too strongly in fear of cracking a rib or too. All had gleaming eyes, sprawled smiles on their faces and a renewed joy characteristic of their youthfulness and appreciation of the smallest of all worldly things.

I promised to be back, and I just can’t wait!