Top Ten Tips for Travelling with Toddlers on Planes

Dear friend,

A few months ago our family (2, 3 and 5 year old kids) experienced what can only be described as a travel experience from hell. Need a recap? Here’s a little video we made. Suffice to say, I vowed to write a blog to help anyone else that finds themselves in the air with little ones, because flying with toddlers is not for the faint of heart. Our family has racked up hundreds of hours in the air and so I hereby lay out my top ten tips for travelling with toddlers for your perusing pleasure.

BEFORE THE FLIGHT

1. Allow more time than necessary. Oh the fights I have had with my husband because we cut things too fine in traffic to get to the airport. Oh the stress and sweat I feel when I have to re-pack bags because they are overweight and the lines are building up behind me. Oh the drama when we have to shuffle and stop, shuffle and stop our way through the airport because we are pushing three trolleys and there’s only two of us.

2. Pack smart and weigh before you go. Common sense you’d think? Not the case apparently for a shopaholic like yours truly. Tim has legitimately put UN sanctions on me because of the number of times I have broken the rules.  We now have to weigh every single piece of luggage before we go to the airport to ensure we are not overweight. He begins this process days before we travel. He permits only five pieces of hand luggage total (despite the fact that technically we could have ten).  He requires one hand luggage carrying all changes of clothes/diapers and one hand luggage requiring all toys. Pyjamas are in colour coded bags (ok, that’s my influence) and changes of clothes are in other ziplocks. I love me a ziplock.

3. The wagon. We have three toddlers five and under. It is a nightmare to transport our tired bodies and their squirmy ones, plus our hand luggage through airports at midnight.  Not wanting to purchase a ridiculously large stroller that would fit three children, our friend introduced us to “the wagon”. Don’t ask questions, just buy one now. It’s accepted as a stroller on all airlines, is perfect for throwing copious numbers of children inside, is light as a feather and works wonders for corralling children in an efficient manner. This is our one

DURING THE FLIGHT

4. Invest in an Inflatable Bed. The single most useful invention made for children on planes is the Inflatable Bed. We bought ours from Amazon and inflate them for our kids to sleep on. Simply blow it up, stretch a blanket over it and watch your kids sleep well for hours. I researched this is a lot - this is the best value one I found that does the job.  

 5. You can never have enough snacks. I don’t know if it’s because we travel through Africa and the Middle East and the snacks aren’t quite to their taste or if our kids start acting like bears coming out of hibernation but I can never have enough snacks. I legit bring a small cooler bag on board.

6. Consider Melatonin Drops for Kids  - We use a natural sleep remedy for the kids when we change time zones if they are struggling (of if we are struggling). I can highly recommend this one. Sometimes it helps to use it that first night in the new country too. Also, on the plane consider putting all the kids in diapers overnight so you and they don’t have to go up and down to the toilet. We use these ones. 

7. You can never have enough wet wipes. I wipe down arm rests, remotes, tv’s, hands, feet, faces. Trust me on this.

8. Make sure you order a kids meal. Apparently, this isn’t guaranteed if you book your own tickets online. Make sure you request it before you fly as then their meals come earlier and are kid friendly.  

9. Bring mini trash bags with you. I am telling you right now that the trash situation gets out of control on flights. I do not know what possess airlines to wrap every single item possible in plastic but I can tell you that having mini trash bags to dump all the junk works wonders.

10. Bring empty (leak-proof) water bottles on board, then fill them up asap. Every time you get served a drink or meal, put the water into your kids water bottles so they don’t spill those stupid flimsy plastic cups on the people sitting behind you and their laptop or phone. (this has happened to us. Twice).  Our favourites are Camelbak.

BONUS 11: We love it that our kids have these awesome books sold by My Flight Log Book. It means whenever we take a flight we give the book to a steward who gives them to the captain and then the kids have a record and fun note to look at when they're older. 

Have I forgotten anything? Love to hear your tips, tricks and hacks! 

Happy travels friends!

Our Family's EPIC 60 Hour Journey to surprise our family at Christmas

Friends, the reason I've been so quiet lately is because we've been planning the best surprise we've ever done. Coming home to New Zealand for a visit with our son (a newly appointed Kiwi citizen). What was supposed to be a 'mere' 35 hours door to door turned out to be 60 hours door to door after Kenya airways had multiple delayed flights.

We decided to film 5 second clips from the moment we left our house until the moment we surprised our families. Little did we know the gigantic journey we were about to embark on.

It's a rough and ready video, but it's raw and real.
And if you just want to get to the best part, forward to 3:38.

Filming: Tim and I.
Spliced together by: My graciously patient brother Joshua Buckley.
Music: PEACE by Hillsong Young and Free
Surprising our family at Christmas: Priceless.

At long last Welcome Home

Me and my little brother Josh about 21 years ago.

Twenty one years ago something happened that changed the course of my life forever. I was a Kiwi girl living in California with my three younger brothers and my parents. My best friend Natalie was an only child. Until she wasn’t. Overnight and seemingly out of the blue, she was given two brothers in quick succession. That was my first exposure to the world of adoption and it fascinated me.

Over the years it became more than a simple fascination, it became a passion. Reflecting back, I think what I loved about it was that my traditional view of family was blown out of the water as I watched their family come to life before my very eyes. From there on out I read books, watched movies and of course (like the detective I am) watched their family closely. Did Norb and Kathy love those boys the same as Natalie? Did their family feel like a ‘real’ family? Yes and yes. Around the same time I started learning more about the world we live in and the challenges people face in countries different to mine. We had people come and speak at our school and our church about what life was like for those living in developing countries. My heart was broken completely in two, my fate sealed. I would adopt a child from one of those countries.  Adoption was never a ‘second best’ option for me, it was my always my preferred option. 

Tim and I in our early dating years

Fast forward to my first date with Tim. Over an Oreo Milkshake from Denny’s (all class that boy), he told me that if I wouldn’t be willing to live in Africa that was a deal breaker for him. Never one to be shy with direct statements I shot back with, “If you wouldn’t be willing to adopt, that’s my deal breaker.” Spoiler alert. I’m typing this from my couch in Uganda with my two adopted children playing outside with their Dad, the aforementioned, classy Tim. 

The weird thing is, the child I’d dreamed about adopting was always a boy. If I told you I thought about this most weeks for the next 21 years of my life - would you believe me? If I told you I hired books from the library on this regularly would you believe me?  If I told you I bought clothes for him over the last 15 years – would you believe me? I truly, earnestly did. Ask my Mum and Dad, Kelly Anne or Sarah. They’ll testify. God’s had that little boy on my heart for decades. I wished for him so badly. Prayed for him so much. Had his name doodled in each diary I’ve owned. If I had one wish as I blew out the candle on every birthday it was for us to one day find each other in this great big world.

See I’ve always believed that we serve a God that sits up there in the heavens looking across the whole earth. He saw my heart (a heart I believe He gave me to adopt) and he saw not one, but two children coming down the pipeline that for whatever reason wouldn’t be able to stay with their biological families. Trauma and deep loss for those two children. And yet, he’s in the business of restoration and redemption. And what I’ve discovered is that this God is so extravagant that sometimes he’ll send people from one side of the earth to the other for another. He saw Tim and I with our hands up in the air, asking God that if a child ever needed a home, we’d be there in a heartbeat.  And one day, that day came.

Suffice to say when Hope entered our family I was most confused because she was most certainly a girl. A beautiful, wonderful, precious, adored baby girl nonetheless. But did I have it wrong? Did I hear incorrectly, did I need to feminise the doodled name? What on earth was I going to do with the boys clothes at my parents? I’d never hear the end of it from my brothers! Nothing made sense other than the fact that I KNEW this little girl was made for our family. Maybe the ‘boy’ was supposed to be biological I hypothesized? But 18 months later our biological daughter, Eva was born. Also, most certainly a girl.

The little boy I'd dreamed of. 

So in April 2017 on our 10 year anniversary I asked Tim for permission to ‘knock’ one last time. He set (quite extreme) stipulations and off I went. I wish I could tell you the details of his case but those details are just that, his. What I can tell you is that August 31^st 2017 was a day I’ll never forget because it was the day I met my son. The boy I’d been dreaming about. The wish I’d wished and the fulfillment of a dream decades in the making. It wasn’t anything like I expected it to be. Driving there we didn’t know if they’d matched us with a boy or a girl. We didn’t know the age or the background of the child. And so when he was carried through the door and our two worlds collided there was no drama, no fuss, no Eureka moment, just a little nudge in my heart as they read his file and I took it all in that this was indeed - him.

Our family 

And so here I type today friends. The day of his adoption. The day a judge in the High Court of Uganda looked me in the eye and said the three letters I’ve prayed for most of my life. 

Yes.

There are truly no words someone can say to explain what it feels like to be given the legal right to be a Mother. I just shook her hand and let the tears fall down my cheeks, mustering up a squeaky “Thank you” as she kindly let me have a moment.  

Welcome Home baby boy, at long last, Welcome Home.

Thank you Jesus. 

Good Magazine Story - October 2018

It is an honor to have my work featured in this month's Good Magazine.

Lake Volta in Ghana is the world's largest man-made lake. It sustains thousands of lives - but its fishing industry is built on the backs of vulnerable children, most under 10 years old. Compassion and Tearfund are there to stop that.

View the Good Magazine story as it appeared in print here. 

or  The online version is here 

 His name was Ebenezzer. And as I sat next to him on the rickety bus rumbling its way down some red dusty roads in West Africa, we got to talking. Turns out that at 19 years old, Ebenezzer had spent three years of his life on the lake we were now heading straight towards.  But for those thousands of hours of labour and heartache he was paid a total of $75 NZD for his work. He was a child slave. 

Ghana hosts the largest man-made lake in the world. It's absolutely beautiful, but there's a dark underbelly to its beauty. The slavery of thousands of children that are brought here to work on it. They are recruited as young as five for their little fingers to untie nets, their ability to hold their breath for long periods of time and their inability to fight back. Behind every net is a story. This, is Ebenezer’s.

“Shortly after I was born my mother died. My Father had been killed months earlier by the witch doctor and so my Grandmother came to take me. I was one of nine grandchildren in her care and she found it difficult to take care of me. When I was six years old a distant relative came to our home. He promised a good job, a steady wage, enough food and a safe place to sleep for young boys who would work with him. Those first few days I was so scared. I would dream at night about going back to my Grandma but I had no way to reach her. We used to wake up at 4am each day and then comeback by midday for something small to eat. Then we would work again until nightfall cut up fish, bait them, put them in the water, collect the nets, bail water out of the boats, untie knots and dive deep. Sometimes the man who owned the boat would beat the other boys with paddles or bamboo on their backs.”

“One day our boat capsized in a thunderstorm and the man who took me to the lake could not operate his business anymore. He called my Grandma to pick me up and she spoke to (Tearfund’s partner, Compassion) the local project in our area about helping to get me back and into a school.  When my Grandma came to get me she began to cry as she realised what had happened out there on the lake for those years. She said that if she had realised what was going on she would have never sent me with that man.”

Trafficking is illegal in Ghana. But on the water, there is no law. Children like Ebenezzer are routinely beaten with paddles, heavy ropes, and electrical cables. Many have spoken about sleep deprivation, malnutrition, sexual assault and abuse, and grievous injuries. They are deprived of medical attention, education and recreation. When they refuse to dive to free the tangled nets, they are pushed or bludgeoned overboard. When they fall asleep or move too slowly to do their masters' bidding, they are beaten. When they complain or try to escape, they are denied food and water. They are slaves.

Tearfund New Zealand has been working on Lake Volta and it’s surrounds through their local partner, Compassion International to release children from poverty through child sponsorship. With over two million children sponsored worldwide, their overarching goal is to make sure these children are known, loved and protected. In every developing country that comes to life in a slightly different way. But in Ghana, on Lake Volta it looks like setting up projects within walking distance of the lake. It looks like ensuring that all the children in the project are placed in school, given nutritious food, and a safe place to play aware from the allure of evil traffickers preying around their villages. And if a child is ever unwittingly taken, they work relentlessly to ensure their immediate and safe return.

Now in his final years of high school, Ebenezer hopes to become a mechanical engineer one day. But for now he’s protected by the project, living safely back with his grandmother and encouraged by his sponsor. "I have suffered enough in my life and so I don't want my family or my future children to suffer. I want them to acquire some knowledge so they can lead a better life, If not for Compassion, I would be on the lake still. But because I am now with Compassion I can talk about what happened and my future with confidence.”

As I reflect on the week I spent with Ebenezzer and his friends on Lake Volta, untangling their stories and listening hard to learn what life was like for them -  I couldn’t help but think how every child on these shores should be sponsored. Needs to be sponsored. Deserves to be sponsored. As a Mum of three children, the right to a childhood for my own kids and countless others is something I’ll fight for all my life. Join me.

Helen Manson is a Kiwi humanitarian photographer and storyteller living in Uganda.
For more information on sponsoring a child visit tearfund.org.nz 

Please note: Other than Ebenzzer and his grandmother, the children pictured do not work in the fishing industry; they recreated scenes of life on Lake Volta willingly and with permission.

The 11 photos that bring to life the Rohingya crisis for me

The camp is a sprawling mess of  hundreds of thousands of dusty makeshift shelters set atop hilly, shaky terrain.

"When words fail me I shall choose to focus with photographs.”

So the truth is that this week as I stood in the middle of the world’s both largest and fastest growing refugee camp, word’s failed me. Something, that if we know each other, you'll know is very, very rare. Wink Wink.

See, I was feeling a lot of pressure to get some social media-esque videos up as fast as I could for my bosses (and for all of you) and yet every time I turned on my iPhone to show you what I saw and to try and explain it, I just couldn’t. Couldn't find the words. 

After all, how does one put into words what it feels like to sit in a bamboo hut in almost 40-degree heat, as you listen to a mum bravely telling you her story of survival from genocide? Or when you see a little child barely able to sit up because of malnutrition? Or a father left to raise five daughters after their mother was brutally killed?

Of course the journalist I was hosting from Newshub, TV3, Michael Morrah did a wonderful job of putting words to it all. Here’s five stories from this week that we made while on the field together that played on 6pm news on New Zealand’s national news network.

Please click on the hyperlinks under each Story to see the clip

Story 1 - General Overview 
Story 2 - Threat of Trafficking 
Story 3 - Malnutrition reaches Emergency Levels
Story 4 - Unaccompanied Kids
Story 5 - In depth look at the crisis 

Earlier this year, you may remember I found myself here at the height of this crisis, watching it unfold. Children and adults alike were traumatised, dehydrated and exhausted. They stared into a void, without even the energy to cry.  What I saw last week was that this crisis is not over. People really are in a desperate state and we need to stay with them, to keep caring. These people are not allowed to build a permanent home, not allowed to work, not allowed to send their children to high school, not allowed to even leave the camps. If they choose to go back to Myanmar, the persecution would most certainly continue.

So this is my little way of bringing this crisis to life through photographs. Trying to show you why this means so much to me. These are the images (taken in April and last week) that bring it to life the most for me. I’ve written a wee caption to explain why.

I hope you see what I see. 

The scale of this crisis is enormous. Close to a million people live within 10 square kilometers. 

Modena shared with me how she lost her husband and is now raising 8 daughters by herself. She feels sad that she is prohibited by the government to work and so therefore cant provide them with pretty dresses and chocolates on Eid (Muslim festival happening last week) because they have no money. Pictured below is Modena with her youngest daughter.

 I cant imagine what it must be like for a mother to have to throw faeces down a rubbish filled embankment mere meters from your house. The overcrowded conditions of the camp mean that sanitation is a huge challenge.

I think it's the kids in the camps that capture my heart the most. They deserve toys, safe places to play, a roof that wont leak and enough food to eat. And yet, that's a luxury. 

One boy I met called Hamid is 19 years old. On the way his best friend and brother were shot. Shortly after, he heard the sound of a baby crying in a village that had just been decimated. He found a five-month-old baby girl amid the rubble. Together they now live in the camps. Hamid was a star student in one of Tearfund's projects English classes. Now employable, after finishing the course, the little money he makes as a volunteer sustains him, his family and this little girl.  

I remember this young girl telling me that every time she eats rice she cant help but think of her Daddy. He loved rice, just like her, and now he's dead and so is her brother and rice could never taste the same again.

At a nutrition clinic for malnourished children I spotted this sweetheart cuddled up next to her Mama. Malnutrition in the camp is now at emergency levels and so this center is a lifeline for her, and her Mum.

Reflecting on my week in the camps, two things give me hope. The incredible determination and resilience of the Rohingya people and the growing community of Tearfund supporters getting stirred up to stand with these people. Please consider making a donation to help this critical work continue.

Love,
Helen

The truth about expat friendships

The woman in question - Alicia.
Wearing her Sunday best. 

So I’m sitting here at my desk on a Wednesday afternoon after what turned out to be quite an emotional morning. See, my friend Alicia is leaving after two years of living and working here in Uganda and we had a farewell thing for her today. And when it came time for my turn to speak around the table about how amazing she is and how much we’ll all miss her, I couldn’t even speak for fear the lump in my throat would spill over. Couldn’t even say one word.

That’s because I feel like I’ve had enough goodbyes to last me a lifetime. Tim and I sat down at dinner last week and counted by name 187 friends that have left in the last five years we’ve called Uganda home. 187. And I’m over it. 

Let me rewind a bit. When we first moved here I remember people talking to me about how “amazing the community is here” and me rolling my eyes. Ok people, you can have your freaky deaky weird little ‘community’ and I’ll be justttt fine over here living like a normal person thanks. See, what fresh off the boat me didn’t realise is that when you move to a place like Uganda as an expat (someone who lives in a country that's not your birth country) your friends become family. Fast. They have to. You have no family, no ‘old friends’ and you don’t know anyone. So friends have to become like family or you’ll drown in the bureaucracy, drama, setbacks and frustrations. You’ll lose your mind when your power goes out for the third time – today. Swear black and blue when your water is cut off for no reason and want to punch someone in the face when you get asked for a bribe - again. But not with friends by your side. Oh no. With friends you’ll not only survive this crazy town, you’ll thrive in it.

See there’s no time for small talk, chit chat and bullsh*tting about how you feel living here.  You’re all just trying to keep your head above water and these friends you find yourself living alongside are the only ones who get it. Like really, really get it.  And so you go deep quick. You go quick because you or they might be here three months or three years and neither of you really knows which one because that’s the very nature of this transient country and this transient expatriate lifestyle. But you need each other. And so you tell your secrets, see each other every single day (and I do really mean every single day) and you become Aunts to their children and intrinsically involved in every aspect of one another’s lives. You do X-fit on a Monday, a smoothie right after and grocery shopping all before 11am. That afternoon you hang out for a playdate and that evening you text each other about what you managed to make for dinner in a country where you have to go to four grocery stores to get what you tend to eat each week. Oh and then you do it all again tomorrow.

So you might be able to see why it’s catching up on me all this “Goodbye” stuff. Especially when you feel like with each goodbye goes a little piece of you. Moments you’ll never re-live, memories no-one else was there for but them. And it’s been like this all my life right? Not just Uganda but California, Sydney, New Zealand and Dubai. All places I’ve lived and said my fair share of goodbyes in.  And so when yet another friend left today it felt like on some deep level another part of me was leaving too. Memories, photos, tears and laughs left with her and stayed with me.

So I've been reflecting on this today, processing by writing to you. Ironically, that same girl who rolled her eyes at the concept of “true community” is now the same one wiping said eyes as one of her closest members of that community leaves.  And although my friend leaving today (and all the ones that have gone before her) can never be replaced, the one thing I know for certain is that for every goodbye in Uganda, there’s another Hello. 

It’s August. That means the Embassies are turning over their staff and the missionaries are moving into town for the school year and the aid workers are coming back from home assignment leave. See what I realized today is is that the silver lining to all these goodbyes is that somewhere along the line I said Hello. A lot. And Hello’s are fun. Hellos are promising.  So it's taken me a week to be able to post this but that's because it's the truth and the truth is sometimes hard to swallow. But today I said Hello again to someone. Turns out I suck at Goodbyes. But Hello’s  - well Hello's are what I do best. I should know, I’ve done 187 of them. 

Please know we NEVER dress like this. We decided to do Prom night in Uganda
and, well, these were the dresses we found.