We are now on the downward half of our two years of service; around July 2007 we will be heading home to resume our lives in Palos Verdes. The next year we will be making plans for our future lives-Will we go back to work? Will we find meaning in middle class life? Can we relearn how to drive on the right and look left when crossing the street? Will we get lost in our suburban house? Has the neighborhood changed? More important than our readjustment back to American is the sustainability of the work we have done. Will the hospital continue with the Occupational Therapy program? Are additional camps for AIDS orphans and vulnerable children in the wings for this beautiful site? Many returned Peace Corps volunteers say that as soon as they left their host country, their projects withered on the vine.
In that effort, thoughts are directed toward how the occupational therapy program can continue and flourish after our service is complete. One step has been accomplished to assist in the task- an assistant occupational therapy organizer came to work as a volunteer this month. Since the program started last Dec. I have been looking for someone to help with the daily program, learn to teach the beading, sewing and shoemaking skills and later manage the program. An added plus is that the volunteer assistant is a sorely needed job in this community. After talking with many candidates who showed initial interest but did not come to work, a 27 year old man came forward and is up to the task. He helps me set up the daily activities with Monday sewing projects, Tuesday bingo, Wednesday beading, Thursday shoemaking and leather work and Friday cooking instruction. He is also very good with the patients and is learning all of the skills. Plus he can translate when hand motions and pointing are not effective.
The plan for sustainability arose from the requests and demands from the patients for fleece hats and scarves. Initially the Jabule (happiness and blessings) Occupational Therapy drew mainly women together to sew and have a time of sharing. As soon as the weather turned cold, I introduced patterned fleece (plaids, geometrics, Ferrari cars) that could be sewn into hats and slippers. The fleece was a big hit with the women and each sewing day the fleece was the first fabric to run out. One morning 8 male patients came to the business office and requested that they be given fleece to sew warm hats. Thus their program began in earnest with the men meeting together before the women. One enterprising man asked to make a fringed scarf out of the fleece. After that almost every ambulatory male arrived requesting fleece to sew into hats and scarves. A meter of fleece can make 9 hats or 6 scarves. Thus the idea has taken hold that before next winter hats and scarves could be made in bulk and sold in local towns and at pension points. The profits could then be channeled into a stipend for the volunteer manager and purchase of materials to keep the program going.
Even if our projects are not sustainable, a few people will remember us after we go, namely our Zulu teach Gobese. For six months after we arrived at Mountain High we sought a Zulu teacher to improve our effectiveness. Teachers at the local high school and primary school were approached but they could not be motivated by the wage of $1.50 per hour and the difficulty of dealing with foreigners. Nurses and staff were approached but there were no takers. Finally while waiting for the bus to our shopping town I approached a high school student who had a big smile, confidence and perfect English. He agreed to teach us Zulu but like the others, did not arrive on the appointed day. (He later said he thought we were kidding and that hospital managers from America did not usually want a high school student to teach them English). I saw him on the road several weeks later and told him we were serious about learning Zulu and that he could help us. So in February we began tutoring sessions with an 11th grade high school student. He comes to our flat two days a week and teaches, cajoles, teases, jokes, reprimands, charms, entertains and goes to the utmost extremes to drive the Zulu into the heads of two old people. He doesn’t understand that repetition is the name of the game and tries to introduce new vocabulary and scenarios to students that promptly forgot the previous lesson. Zulu has 16 noun classes; all verbs, adjectives and pronouns must be in concord with the noun. Progress is very slow but he never gives up. He started bringing his chemistry homework for assistance and the reality of education in South Africa hit us hard. (Ironically the local high school is one of the best with 100% passing rate). He does not have a text book, only a worksheet for chemistry lab. However there is no chemistry lab (nor library nor computers/internet) so the results of the lab sheet must be worked out on paper (we used to call this dry labbing). He never gets discouraged at the lack of resources-he just plunges ahead, tried his best and asks for help from any resource. He was the star on the debate team but had to research his topic by asking questions and opinions of those around him. These new ambitious and energetic students are the hope for South Africa. They have seen the destruction of AIDS and apartheid in their parents lives and they are determined to have better lives and build this new nation.
Sunday, August 26, 2007
Saturday, August 25, 2007
Sunday, August 19, 2007
Face of AIDS in South Africa
KZN (province of KwaZuluNatal) is a gorgeous region for Peace Corps Service-beaches, Zulu culture, fantastic mountain ranges and sunsets, mild climate, and several World Heritage Sights. This week we returned from a long weekend in St. Lucia where AIDS in Africa did not enter our minds. However the return to the Hospital on Monday brought the AIDS epidemic close and jarring.
On Monday two boys that are both twelve years of age and have been patients for 3 months were discharged. They have participated in the Jabule handcrafts program and made wire cars, beading projects and shoes. Initially they were silent but after several weeks started speaking in lucid English. They were always big winners at Bingo on Tuesdays. I was elated that they were cured of their TB and could go back home and resume schooling. One of the boys came to me and told me that he was going home. I told him that I was so happy that he could go back to his village and be with his parents. He started to get very emotional and stated that he loved being at Mountain High Hospital and that he was very sad to go home. His father is very sick with AIDS and his mother cannot take care of the family. I initially had difficulty understanding how two boys could be sent to an adult hospital but changed my views when I saw how the staff and patients cared for the boys, who appeared much younger than their 12 years. The two boys became great pals over the course of their treatment and never whined about their confinement. AIDS is a social disease in Africa and affects every family member.
A ward assistant (nurse’s aide) in her thirties died this week and a spokesperson for the ward assistants collected money from all staff to pay for taxi rides to the funeral. No one would speak of the cause of death or the circumstances. Friends, relatives and coworkers “Pass Away” and people grieve.
A staff member who is HIV positive announced that she is pregnant. She is having a baby to leave something “Behind” when she gets sick.
A patient that has been crocheting squares for Afghans for the hospital beds as part of the Handcrafts project died. Each week as she came to the Jabule group she was weaker and thinner with the last week showing up in a wheel chair as one of the male patients wheeled her in to participate. She asked for more yarn to complete the Afghans a few days before she died. She was a beautiful young woman in her 20’s with determination and courage but the disease sapped her strength and being. At the end she just wanted to crochet the beautiful squares for the beds.
Bingo is a big hit here on Tuesdays with 10 men and 20 women participating. This week a nursing instructor wheeled three patients into the bingo melee to take their minds off their illness and have some fun. One of the women arrived leaning on a cane and the nursing instructor’s arm but grabbed a bingo card and won the first round. A few minutes later another patient was arrived in a wheel chair and also had beginner’s luck and won on the first round.
Friday is Cooking Lessons for the patients and this weeks menu was American pizza with groans when the garlic burned in the olive oil but rave reviews at the final product. Zulus love slapstick humor and enjoyed seeing the pizza dough stetched “Luci” style to fit the pan.
No Opportunity for silliness or entertainment goes wasted here at Mountain High. Bingo Games need break times and laughter which was provided by teaching the patients the Hokey Pokey and the B I N G O song this week. Of Course “See You Later Alligator, After While Crocodile” is also a big hit and especially appropriate after seeing crocs more than 140 years old in St. Lucia last weekend. Wish I could take the patients out for a weekend!
On Monday two boys that are both twelve years of age and have been patients for 3 months were discharged. They have participated in the Jabule handcrafts program and made wire cars, beading projects and shoes. Initially they were silent but after several weeks started speaking in lucid English. They were always big winners at Bingo on Tuesdays. I was elated that they were cured of their TB and could go back home and resume schooling. One of the boys came to me and told me that he was going home. I told him that I was so happy that he could go back to his village and be with his parents. He started to get very emotional and stated that he loved being at Mountain High Hospital and that he was very sad to go home. His father is very sick with AIDS and his mother cannot take care of the family. I initially had difficulty understanding how two boys could be sent to an adult hospital but changed my views when I saw how the staff and patients cared for the boys, who appeared much younger than their 12 years. The two boys became great pals over the course of their treatment and never whined about their confinement. AIDS is a social disease in Africa and affects every family member.
A ward assistant (nurse’s aide) in her thirties died this week and a spokesperson for the ward assistants collected money from all staff to pay for taxi rides to the funeral. No one would speak of the cause of death or the circumstances. Friends, relatives and coworkers “Pass Away” and people grieve.
A staff member who is HIV positive announced that she is pregnant. She is having a baby to leave something “Behind” when she gets sick.
A patient that has been crocheting squares for Afghans for the hospital beds as part of the Handcrafts project died. Each week as she came to the Jabule group she was weaker and thinner with the last week showing up in a wheel chair as one of the male patients wheeled her in to participate. She asked for more yarn to complete the Afghans a few days before she died. She was a beautiful young woman in her 20’s with determination and courage but the disease sapped her strength and being. At the end she just wanted to crochet the beautiful squares for the beds.
Bingo is a big hit here on Tuesdays with 10 men and 20 women participating. This week a nursing instructor wheeled three patients into the bingo melee to take their minds off their illness and have some fun. One of the women arrived leaning on a cane and the nursing instructor’s arm but grabbed a bingo card and won the first round. A few minutes later another patient was arrived in a wheel chair and also had beginner’s luck and won on the first round.
Friday is Cooking Lessons for the patients and this weeks menu was American pizza with groans when the garlic burned in the olive oil but rave reviews at the final product. Zulus love slapstick humor and enjoyed seeing the pizza dough stetched “Luci” style to fit the pan.
No Opportunity for silliness or entertainment goes wasted here at Mountain High. Bingo Games need break times and laughter which was provided by teaching the patients the Hokey Pokey and the B I N G O song this week. Of Course “See You Later Alligator, After While Crocodile” is also a big hit and especially appropriate after seeing crocs more than 140 years old in St. Lucia last weekend. Wish I could take the patients out for a weekend!
Tuesday, August 14, 2007
St. Lucia Weekend
Last week’s blog recounted my embarrassment when I was alarmed at the fire along the dirt road leading to my home in Kwa Zulu Natal, Mountain High Hospital. Ironically, the fires and wind were in fact true menaces that destroyed thousands of cattle and trees while we were gone during our trip to the Northwest Province last week. For three days the Hospital was without power as the wind blew down trees, power and telephone lines and the fire raged through Zululand. Fortunately the Hospital buildings and land were not harmed but the staff was worn out by the ordeal and told of their frustrations living without power or phones for three days when we returned. This week has been an effort and exercise in creating fire breaks around the property.
This weekend we are in St. Lucia, a UN World Heritage Site, to celebrate Women’s Day August 8. By taking one leave day on Friday, we are able to have a four day weekend in this wetland which encompasses five ecosystems including estuary, ocean beach, Game Park, sand dune and river. The small town of St. Lucia is situated on a narrow peninsula between the Indian Ocean and Lake St. Lucia, an estuary with hippos and crocodiles its native inhabitants. One can view the hippos from the shore or take a boat ride to their favorite hideouts along the mangrove estuary. Hippos take shelter in the water by day and run ashore at night to feed on grass. Reportedly, hippos have been seen running down the streets of this small tourist town and are unstoppable in their chosen path. Baby hippos will ride on their mothers back in the water. Crocodiles as old as 140 years lounge along the sides of the estuary, content in their place in this grand ecosystem.
The game preserve is a fantastic site with palm and acacia studded hillsides sheltering impalas, zebras, nyala, and waterbuck. Our game drive through the preserve was rewarded with a sighting of a new rhino mother and baby tagging behind. The baby grew impatient with the mother’s speed and leapt ahead, splashing mud at her mother. Just before exiting a herd of Cape buffalo was spotted near the road grazing on the new green grass. They are magnificent animals with broad curled horns and huge black bodies.
St. Lucia is a tourist town like Carmel in California but on a much smaller scale. It can only be reached by crossing one bridge so it is somewhat cut off from the rest of Africa. From the water it is invisible as it has no tall buildings and the estuary and ocean have no commercial buildings. The guide on the boat stated that a study was done to determine whether to develop titanium or tourism in the area and the outcome was that tourism would be more profitable and create more jobs. The town has a bird preserve and many parks with tropical vegetation. An African pleasure is to walk through the bird preserve, listen for the bird calls and quietly look for the bird lodged in the tree above the trail.
In town I gained a personalized Beading class as a kind Zulu woman at the Crafts shelter took the time to teach me the more intricate beading stitches. She demonstrated the beautiful lattice work in black, gold, off white and brown small beads and then watched as I tried to recreate her stitches. Both of us beamed up in delight when the student caught on to the master’s instruction and true learning had occurred.
We left St. Lucia by way of the famous Umfolozi Game Park and were rewarded with close game viewing of White Rhinos, a herd of Cape Buffalos, Waterbuck, families of Giraffes, Nyala, assorted buck and warthog-bush pig but who can tell the difference? The game were as frequent and familiar as the wildlife in a zoo in a major city but how can one ever imagine viewing animals behind protective structures after this extraordinary experience in Africa?
This weekend we are in St. Lucia, a UN World Heritage Site, to celebrate Women’s Day August 8. By taking one leave day on Friday, we are able to have a four day weekend in this wetland which encompasses five ecosystems including estuary, ocean beach, Game Park, sand dune and river. The small town of St. Lucia is situated on a narrow peninsula between the Indian Ocean and Lake St. Lucia, an estuary with hippos and crocodiles its native inhabitants. One can view the hippos from the shore or take a boat ride to their favorite hideouts along the mangrove estuary. Hippos take shelter in the water by day and run ashore at night to feed on grass. Reportedly, hippos have been seen running down the streets of this small tourist town and are unstoppable in their chosen path. Baby hippos will ride on their mothers back in the water. Crocodiles as old as 140 years lounge along the sides of the estuary, content in their place in this grand ecosystem.
The game preserve is a fantastic site with palm and acacia studded hillsides sheltering impalas, zebras, nyala, and waterbuck. Our game drive through the preserve was rewarded with a sighting of a new rhino mother and baby tagging behind. The baby grew impatient with the mother’s speed and leapt ahead, splashing mud at her mother. Just before exiting a herd of Cape buffalo was spotted near the road grazing on the new green grass. They are magnificent animals with broad curled horns and huge black bodies.
St. Lucia is a tourist town like Carmel in California but on a much smaller scale. It can only be reached by crossing one bridge so it is somewhat cut off from the rest of Africa. From the water it is invisible as it has no tall buildings and the estuary and ocean have no commercial buildings. The guide on the boat stated that a study was done to determine whether to develop titanium or tourism in the area and the outcome was that tourism would be more profitable and create more jobs. The town has a bird preserve and many parks with tropical vegetation. An African pleasure is to walk through the bird preserve, listen for the bird calls and quietly look for the bird lodged in the tree above the trail.
In town I gained a personalized Beading class as a kind Zulu woman at the Crafts shelter took the time to teach me the more intricate beading stitches. She demonstrated the beautiful lattice work in black, gold, off white and brown small beads and then watched as I tried to recreate her stitches. Both of us beamed up in delight when the student caught on to the master’s instruction and true learning had occurred.
We left St. Lucia by way of the famous Umfolozi Game Park and were rewarded with close game viewing of White Rhinos, a herd of Cape Buffalos, Waterbuck, families of Giraffes, Nyala, assorted buck and warthog-bush pig but who can tell the difference? The game were as frequent and familiar as the wildlife in a zoo in a major city but how can one ever imagine viewing animals behind protective structures after this extraordinary experience in Africa?
Saturday, August 04, 2007
New PC Recruits Hit the Northwest
This week brought us full circle as we traveled to a remote village in the Northwest province to assist the Peace Corps training program for the 90 new recruits (including four over 70 years of age) that landed in South Africa on 24 July. The journey back to the village took three days- a trip down the mountain by taxi, an 8 hour greyhound bus ride to Pretoria, and a four ride in a Peace Corps van to the training site. Although our original training village was in Mpumalanga and this year’s center is in the Northwest Province, the villages share similar topography and the same problems-poverty, lack of water, dirt roads, no infrastructure, and remote location. Perfect for Americans who want to learn how to get along in rural South Africa.
The villages in the Northwest had some dissimilar features as several donkey carts with two donkeys pulling the cart chariot-style were noted hauling water. The kraals (small ranches) had fences made of thick tree stumps rather than the thin sticks in the south. Some of the fences were layered with heavy thorn bushes for added protection.
The new Peace Corps Trainees were a serious group of volunteers who voiced intelligent opinions and seemed committed to the task ahead, whatever that might be. They had the same concerns that we had a year ago-Can the language classes be mastered? Can one live on the Peace Corps stipend? What about loneliness and the isolation? How does an American cope with all of the changes and inputs from the Peace Corps trainers? What about Food-Do Peace Corps volunteers really live on Pap and porridge? By the end of our stay, 6 of the new recruits had decided that Peace Corps was not for them and were on their way home. The decision was very hard for them as they worried about facing their friends and family but the prospect of spending two years living with new faces, customs and separation from the familiar was overwhelming.
I am not sure that I could have handled Peace Corps without my husband and my faith in God. The job is 24-7 and requires diplomacy, tact, kindness, and discretion all of those waking hours. The new recruits include 11 married couples- having a spouse may be the best thing that they brought to their Peace Corps experience. I admire the young singles who can decipher how to get from A to B, handle unwanted attention, fit in with their host family with little privacy or down time, and perform in an excellent capacity at their work site. Older persons (the Peace Corps now refers to us seniors as OPs (old people) are given a measure of respect in the local communities. Of course being an older man is even more advantageous, but being seen as a Gogo (grandmother) carries some weight.
We tried to encourage the new recruits and allay their fears. The adventure, travel opportunities and sense of fulfillment more than compensate for the uncertainties, discomforts, and sacrifices. However, even after one year living as a rural citizen, I continue to misunderstand the culture, customs and rythmns of life. Just before we left for Pretoria, I took a walk after dinner down the dirt road leading away from the Hospital. Smoke and fire raged across the fields from the controlled burn conducted on the neighboring farmer’s grazing land. (When we arrived at the Hospital last year we were amazed to see Burn Schedules and Maps for the KZN province). After one year we have learned that controlled burning of grazing land is part of the agricultural plan to increase nutrients in the soil and retain water, a scarce resource. The burns ignite the old grasses and within a few weeks new sprouts of grass create fodder for the livestock and reinvigorate the land. By burning the land is made new and the rain water is stored in the ground. Driving across South Africa at night is an amazing sight with tall flames outlining the horizon, stretching out across the land.
After walking about one mile I had to turn back on the dirt road as the grass fire had cranked up now reaching the dirt road with flames 10 feet high next to the road below the telephone wires. The fire started heading toward the indigenous forest in the direction of the Hospital. I was alarmed at the speed of the flames and the fact that no one was around to monitor the course and fury of the fire. I hurried back to the Hospital and contacted the Security Guard about the fire on the dirt road. He seemed unconcerned but contacted a driver to inspect the situation. I asked about calling the fire department but that option does not exist in our remote location. Out of control fires are dealt with by borrowing a water tank truck from the timber mill, 6 miles away. The driver finally arrived and we went down the road to inspect the fire. Boy was I embarrassed when we arrived at the danger point where 30 minutes previously, the flames were leaping back to the hospital and up toward the power line. The area was black char with the indigenous trees untouched from the blaze. (I later learned that the indigenous trees are flame resistant). I apologized to the driver for my concern and he graciously told me not to worry. Such is the reaction from a So. Cal Gal coming from a fire zone in the hills of Palos Verdes. After one year here there is still so much to learn!
The villages in the Northwest had some dissimilar features as several donkey carts with two donkeys pulling the cart chariot-style were noted hauling water. The kraals (small ranches) had fences made of thick tree stumps rather than the thin sticks in the south. Some of the fences were layered with heavy thorn bushes for added protection.
The new Peace Corps Trainees were a serious group of volunteers who voiced intelligent opinions and seemed committed to the task ahead, whatever that might be. They had the same concerns that we had a year ago-Can the language classes be mastered? Can one live on the Peace Corps stipend? What about loneliness and the isolation? How does an American cope with all of the changes and inputs from the Peace Corps trainers? What about Food-Do Peace Corps volunteers really live on Pap and porridge? By the end of our stay, 6 of the new recruits had decided that Peace Corps was not for them and were on their way home. The decision was very hard for them as they worried about facing their friends and family but the prospect of spending two years living with new faces, customs and separation from the familiar was overwhelming.
I am not sure that I could have handled Peace Corps without my husband and my faith in God. The job is 24-7 and requires diplomacy, tact, kindness, and discretion all of those waking hours. The new recruits include 11 married couples- having a spouse may be the best thing that they brought to their Peace Corps experience. I admire the young singles who can decipher how to get from A to B, handle unwanted attention, fit in with their host family with little privacy or down time, and perform in an excellent capacity at their work site. Older persons (the Peace Corps now refers to us seniors as OPs (old people) are given a measure of respect in the local communities. Of course being an older man is even more advantageous, but being seen as a Gogo (grandmother) carries some weight.
We tried to encourage the new recruits and allay their fears. The adventure, travel opportunities and sense of fulfillment more than compensate for the uncertainties, discomforts, and sacrifices. However, even after one year living as a rural citizen, I continue to misunderstand the culture, customs and rythmns of life. Just before we left for Pretoria, I took a walk after dinner down the dirt road leading away from the Hospital. Smoke and fire raged across the fields from the controlled burn conducted on the neighboring farmer’s grazing land. (When we arrived at the Hospital last year we were amazed to see Burn Schedules and Maps for the KZN province). After one year we have learned that controlled burning of grazing land is part of the agricultural plan to increase nutrients in the soil and retain water, a scarce resource. The burns ignite the old grasses and within a few weeks new sprouts of grass create fodder for the livestock and reinvigorate the land. By burning the land is made new and the rain water is stored in the ground. Driving across South Africa at night is an amazing sight with tall flames outlining the horizon, stretching out across the land.
After walking about one mile I had to turn back on the dirt road as the grass fire had cranked up now reaching the dirt road with flames 10 feet high next to the road below the telephone wires. The fire started heading toward the indigenous forest in the direction of the Hospital. I was alarmed at the speed of the flames and the fact that no one was around to monitor the course and fury of the fire. I hurried back to the Hospital and contacted the Security Guard about the fire on the dirt road. He seemed unconcerned but contacted a driver to inspect the situation. I asked about calling the fire department but that option does not exist in our remote location. Out of control fires are dealt with by borrowing a water tank truck from the timber mill, 6 miles away. The driver finally arrived and we went down the road to inspect the fire. Boy was I embarrassed when we arrived at the danger point where 30 minutes previously, the flames were leaping back to the hospital and up toward the power line. The area was black char with the indigenous trees untouched from the blaze. (I later learned that the indigenous trees are flame resistant). I apologized to the driver for my concern and he graciously told me not to worry. Such is the reaction from a So. Cal Gal coming from a fire zone in the hills of Palos Verdes. After one year here there is still so much to learn!
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