'All around people were dropping like flies. I remember thinking, Jesus, this is mass murder' JAMIE SPENCER'S DIARY.

Monday, August 7

THIS was the worst - the absolute worst. We were staying in another priest's house in a pretty decent suburb of Ndola, but at 8am we were picked up by a local volunteer called Rory Mullen - he was from Belfast - and driven round to a children's home run by a German nun called Sister Philomena.

She was some tough lady, but she was a good woman who had done wonders. There were more than 300 children, from 12-year-olds down to little babies whose mothers had died or who had just been left at the bus stop, and the whole place was immaculate, but she said she had to do it "like the military". When we were with the children, all they wanted was for us to pick them up and cuddle them. What they wanted was love. My son Charlie is just six months old. I felt bad.

The next stop was the hospice. Inside there was a guy lying out in the sun under a blanket. At first, I didn't think there was anything wrong with him. But when I sat down beside him he pulled back the blanket and it was the only time I really thought I was going to be sick. He had Aids and his leg was four or five times normal size with huge great lumps on it. He said: "My leg is broke. Help me." Like so many, he was in denial about Aids. I felt helpless.

Then there was the woman in the ward. She lifted herself up in her bed but she must have been at the end of the road. She can't have weighed more than 4st. Her skin was just draped over her bones and there were great blotches of sores as if someone had poured acid all over her. If I close my eyes, I can see her now.

At the next place, Kantolombo, it was hard to see anything positive. Rory and his people were doing a feeding and teaching programme with the children and nursing mothers, but all around people were dropping like flies. I remember looking about and thinking, 'Jesus, this is mass murder'. That if I came back in a month, 20 or 30 of the people we had met would be dead by then. There was that woman with leprosy. All sorts of things. After half an hour I said to Ed I couldn't take any more. It was very difficult. I just went on to auto pilot. I can't remember any more.

Funnily enough, that afternoon began with a bit of hope. We went to Dafa's house in Ndola, that takes former street kids through to the last stages of their rehabilitation. The boys showed us around, played football (there were a couple of really talented ones), gave us a song and did their "My name is . . ." introduction routines. They were polite and nice and smiling. They were normal children, yet they had come from living in the street. You could see what could be done with a bit of love and education.

The contrast with the morning really shook me. Getting back in the van that afternoon was the only time I felt like crying. That morning had been complete torture, had really fried my brain. Yet here was what was possible, what could give them hope in their lives, give them an education that would protect them. The trouble is that you can only help so few. It makes you choke.

On the way back, we went to the house the Street Kids Project uses to try to get the process started. Once a week they open their doors and offer a drink and a bun. This afternoon eight kids had come in, but straight away you could see they were not right. We were told they sniff a lot of glue, but it looked as if it was something else as well.

We finally got them sitting down in the room and they tried to get through the "My name is ..." business, but they would get up and loll around and be rude. They were just like wild animals.

The whole feeding and talking process only took about ten minutes, and then they were off out of the gate and up the street just as if you had let a fox out of a cage. When we got back to the house that night, Andrew, my agent, got on the line to tell me about bookings for the weekend and that Coolmore wanted me for Ad Valorem.

Deauville seemed a whole world away from this. I was reeling from what I had seen. To be honest, if there had been a plane that night, I would have got on it straightaway. Next day needed to be better.