Day 22 (04.08.17) Friday

Today was Aunty Margaret’s (Wendy’s mum) last day in Budapest . Before coming to Budapest, I had been chatting with her daughter, Wendy, hoping she would come for the program. I met them three years ago when we came to Peto for the first time. They were very nice and welcoming and we became friends, not to forget we are also from the same country and tribe.

This summer, I can’t but thank and appreciate Aunty Margaret, she made my stay in Budapest enjoyable. I kept wondering what would have happened if she hadn’t come. I would not have had the opportunity to interact with the other mums because most of them had older kids who were not in Nimmy’s group. Most of the parents with older kids have been coming for years so they had bonded. She invited me to every event; some I could not attend because I already had prior engagement.

No matter how tired she was, she would still find some reserved energy to show me around the city. I remembered the previous morning at the coffee shop, two customers walked into the shop but the shop attendants were not at the counter to attend to them. Aunty Margaret was seated beside me, she noticed the new customers and she got up and assured them that the shop attendants were around and they would soon attend to them. She told them that the shop also sells nice cappuccino. I looked at her in amazement. One of the cheeky mums told her she was Madam Theresa; she said Aunty Margaret was too nice. Anyway, that is Aunty Margaret for you. I must say she also has a lovely and charming daughter, Wendy.

This morning, after I dropped Nimmy in her class, I waited for her in front of her daughter’s therapy room. I wanted to spend a little time with her (before this summer, I hadn’t seen her in three years.)

While we sat down and discussed, the father of a lovely lady (I particularly love this lady’s smiles and hugs) in Wendy’s class stood in front of us and did something unusual. Something only a sensitive man with a good heart would do.

He looked at Aunty Margaret and said he knew this was her 20th year of bringing her daughter to Peto. He said he was particularly taken in by her courage, love and consistency. He gave her some gifts and a card appreciating her courage and love for her child. He said each year he saw her with her child at Peto, he was couraged to keep going on.

I guess it takes a parent with a child with special needs to understand and appreciate the sacrifice and effort that it takes to care for a special needs child.

Aunty Margaret was almost in tears. I told her I would check on her in the evening. She left the building to complete her shopping while I went into Nimmy’s class.

Later that day, she called me by 5pm to come over to her place as she was going out with her daughter by 6:30pm. I rushed out of the house so I could say my final farewell before they left the following morning.

When I got to her building, the front door was locked, it required I input her room number so she could unlock from upstairs. For the life of me, I couldn’t remember. What would I do? I asked no one in particular. I didn’t bother renewing my sim card this year; I simply use my whatsapp to make calls but only where I could access wifi. I came out of the building and looked up, maybe in Naija I would have shouted, ‘mama Yewande’! But not here, so I decided to sit outside, just maybe when they were going out they would see me on their way out.

After sitting for a minute, I went back to the door and tried to figure out how to manipulate it. Then I struck gold, a number was written for the reception or a word that looked like reception. I dialed the number, a man’s voice came through and I told him I was there to visit Aunty Margaret that he should please tell her I was downstairs. The kind man opened the door and ushered me in. When I got to Aunty Margaret’s room we all had a good laugh after I narrated my experience.

There were three other people in the room apart from Aunty Margaret and Wendy. Katouche, her sister, and her friend. They were all going for a picnic at Magrit Island by 7:30pm. As usual, Aunty Margaret asked if I wanted to come along but this time I said, ‘NO’. That word is golden and at times a life saver; I needed to rest. Moreover, I planned on taking my kids to Magrit Island on Sunday.

I wanted to leave Aunty Margaret’s room by 7pm but she wouldn’t have it; she said we must all leave together.

When I finally got to the nearest bus stop, the bus I was supposed to board was just leaving. Aunty said, I should follow her and the others to the train station and board a train instead of waiting for another bus which may not come until twenty minutes later (since it wasn’t peak period). As we walked to the train station Aunty Margaret said that I could consider boarding the same train with them to Szell Kalmar. I laughed in Swahili. I said to myself; then when we finally board a train that would pass Magrit Island she would tell me to join them for only 10 minutes. My dearest Aunty Margaret, this time around it didn’t work… I decided to go home and sleep. When my train finally came along, I said my goodbyes and headed home. I would surely miss her.

30 days in HungaryDay 22 (04.08.17) FridayToday was Aunty Margaret’s (Wendy’s mum) last day in Budapest . Before coming to Budapest, I had been chatting with her daughter, Wendy, hoping she would come for the program. I met them three years ago when we came to Peto for the first time. They were very nice and welcoming and we became friends, not to forget we are also from the same country and tribe.This summer, I can’t but thank and appreciate Aunty Margaret, she made my stay in Budapest enjoyable. I kept wondering what would have happened if she hadn’t come. I would not have had the opportunity to interact with the other mums because most of them had older kids who were not in Nimmy’s group. Most of the parents with older kids have been coming for years so they had bonded. She invited me to every event; some I could not attend because I already had prior engagement.No matter how tired she was, she would still find some reserved energy to show me around the city. I remembered the previous morning at the coffee shop, two customers walked into the shop but the shop attendants were not at the counter to attend to them. Aunty Margaret was seated beside me, she noticed the new customers and she got up and assured them that the shop attendants were around and they would soon attend to them. She told them that the shop also sells nice cappuccino. I looked at her in amazement. One of the cheeky mums told her she was Madam Theresa; she said Aunty Margaret was too nice. Anyway, that is Aunty Margaret for you. I must say she also has a lovely and charming daughter, Wendy.This morning, after I dropped Nimmy in her class, I waited for her in front of her daughter’s therapy room. I wanted to spend a little time with her (before this summer, I hadn’t seen her in three years.)While we sat down and discussed, the father of a lovely lady (I particularly love this lady’s smiles and hugs) in Wendy’s class stood in front of us and did something unusual. Something only a sensitive man with a good heart would do.He looked at Aunty Margaret and said he knew this was her 20th year of bringing her daughter to Peto. He said he was particularly taken in by her courage, love and consistency. He gave her some gifts and a card appreciating her courage and love for her child. He said each year he saw her with her child at Peto, he was couraged to keep going on.I guess it takes a parent with a child with special needs to understand and appreciate the sacrifice and effort that it takes to care for a special needs child.Aunty Margaret was almost in tears. I told her I would check on her in the evening. She left the building to complete her shopping while I went into Nimmy’s class.Later that day, she called me by 5pm to come over to her place as she was going out with her daughter by 6:30pm. I rushed out of the house so I could say my final farewell before they left the following morning.When I got to her building, the front door was locked, it required I input her room number so she could unlock from upstairs. For the life of me, I couldn’t remember. What would I do? I asked no one in particular. I didn’t bother renewing my sim card this year; I simply use my whatsapp to make calls but only where I could access wifi. I came out of the building and looked up, maybe in Naija I would have shouted, ‘mama Yewande’! But not here, so I decided to sit outside, just maybe when they were going out they would see me on their way out.After sitting for a minute, I went back to the door and tried to figure out how to manipulate it. Then I struck gold, a number was written for the reception or a word that looked like reception. I dialed the number, a man’s voice came through and I told him I was there to visit Aunty Margaret that he should please tell her I was downstairs. The kind man opened the door and ushered me in. When I got to Aunty Margaret’s room we all had a good laugh after I narrated my experience.There were three other people in the room apart from Aunty Margaret and Wendy. Katouche, her sister, and her friend. They were all going for a picnic at Magrit Island by 7:30pm. As usual, Aunty Margaret asked if I wanted to come along but this time I said, ‘NO’. That word is golden and at times a life saver; I needed to rest. Moreover, I planned on taking my kids to Magrit Island on Sunday.I wanted to leave Aunty Margaret’s room by 7pm but she wouldn’t have it; she said we must all leave together.When I finally got to the nearest bus stop, the bus I was supposed to board was just leaving. Aunty said, I should follow her and the others to the train station and board a train instead of waiting for another bus which may not come until twenty minutes later (since it wasn’t peak period). As we walked to the train station Aunty Margaret said that I could consider boarding the same train with them to Szell Kalmar. I laughed in Swahili. I said to myself; then when we finally board a train that would pass Magrit Island she would tell me to join them for only 10 minutes. My dearest Aunty Margaret, this time around it didn’t work… I decided to go home and sleep. When my train finally came along, I said my goodbyes and headed home. I would surely miss her.

Gepostet von Diary of a Special Needs Mum Initiative am Samstag, 12. August 2017

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