Good morning. The bus driver was late this morning... again. When I got to my drop off spot for work he told me he was going to propose to me. Weird I know, but I spend a lot of time with Patrick in the mornings, cause I’m the last to get dropped off. He calls me angel eyes, blows me kisses everyday and says that I am going to have 8 of his children one day. He’s serious.. but he knows that I have a serious relationship and a ‘man’ waiting for me in the states. I just laughed at him because between his English and the baby making music he was blaring, I can never really understand what he’s saying. I get a kick out of it at least. Since I was an hour late, the ladies greeted me with their normal hugs and kisses and chuckled, “Sissy, you is always late!” and then rambled something in Xhosa and started laughing. I always walk in with a smile anyway, and this morning with an orange in my hand. They get a rise out of teasing me because I can’t understand them, but they always hug me and kiss me on the head afterwards like I’m one of their children. Which all in reality, I kind of am. They treat me just like their family here, open doors and open arms kinda policy. I was kind of shy about it at first, but the more time I have spent with them, the more I adapt to their culture. They never argue with each other... ever.. well, about anything serious at least..HA. It truly is a tight little family. Maybe if more people in the states adapted to this culture, there wouldn’t be so many issues at businesses and such with sexual harassment, harassment in general, and of course... who could forget those awkward moments where everyone is in that awkward position because someone knows something that someone else doesn’t and everything seems sneaky and fishy that leads to those awkward moments of silence in the lunch room.
Although these ladies take me into their arms like I’m one of their own, there is a lot of awful things that happen here in the community. It’s not all sweet and dandy all of the time, outside of work there are huge problems with rape and armed crime due to the poverty and all of the illness. Crime because people are looking for all the money that they can to support their families, and keep their sick ones alive..1 in 4 people in South Africa are HIV+. There are millions of people that live here, millions. Almost everyone that is HIV+ also has TB, or vise versa. That’s completely unheard of in the states, only because of education. The USA is a great place to live because of all the resources and education we have, but we don’t have the kindness, loyalty, open arms, and happiness like Africa does. It’s unfortunate that Africa is a little behind... or maybe a lot behind, because this country is so beautiful, filled with beautiful people who are dying everyday, most before they reach the age of 50. Lindi has taught me that Africa is slow because of their laid-back type of living. People here enjoy everyday, even with all the crime, poverty and illness. Lindi says that it’s a blessing as well as a sickness because people here enjoy life no matter what, but that’s how illness happens and that’s hard to gain control of. After Patrick dropped me off and I was walking down the street, there was this little old lady trying to push a grocery cart up a curb across my street who was visually ill. I almost pretended like I didn’t see it and kept walking, because it is a little scary walking around by yourself. Then I thought about it, what if that was me?? If there is something that I can take home with me that I have learned here, it’s being kind and generous. I stopped in my tracks, pondered for a moment, and turned around to walk over to her. She looked at me like I was going to mug her and backed off, I pushed the cart up the curb, she touched my face and smiled and handed me an orange. It was beautiful, even though you can see that she is critically ill due to her sunken face, no teeth and skin discoloration, you could see the beauty through her gestures and how thankful she was. She said something in Xhosa that I couldn’t understand, I must of had a look of confusion on my face because she then said “thank you”. I smiled at her and said “no, thank you for this beautiful orange” and then I continued onto my walk to work.
This morning was entirely full of meetings that all happened to be in Xhosa, so I had a lot of thinking and brainstorming time. I had my little notebook and markers, so I jotted down a couple things that weren’t work related... since I have nooooo idea what they are talking about. I started thinking about what I was going to write in my blog today, jotted a couple ideas down.... and then I found myself staring at the map of the world that is posted on the wall. I have been a lot of places in the states, mexico and some parts of canada... now, I’m in Africa. Learning a completely new way to live. Half way around the world, meeting new people everyday that have left impressions on my heart and soul. I started writing down all the other countries I would like to visit... Ethiopia, Kenya, Zimbabwe, Thailand, India, Bali... and so many others. If it was possible to become a professional backpacker for a year or two and make a living, possibly writing stories and experiences... I’d do it in a heartbeat. Yes, I’d become a professional backpacker. Living only with what I can carry, and an orange in hand. If people around me can live in shacks, without water supply, without iphones and apple computers, without gyms and fitness worries, without designer clothes and accessories, and have absolutely no money and scarcity on food... yet, can still hand over an orange to give away as a gift to a complete stranger, and be beaming with real happiness, I can do it too. I don’t need ‘things’ to be truly happy. I need people... Good people. That’s happiness. However, I have priorities that I can’t just toss away and a home with wonderful people that love me and need me. Wonderful good people. That do make me happy. One day my travels will happen, even if they are short lived... with an orange in hand.
After my day dreaming session, the four ladies that I work with that are home based care givers start saying to me “Sissy, you must come with us today. You must see the terminally ill and offer them your services. Our foster homes need you too.” Before I could give them a response they were pushing me out the door and telling me I can’t bring a thing with me because I’m a target for getting mugged. So I casually go along as they all talk in Xhosa and I catch myself staring into peoples houses... again. Of course I got scolded, and Lindi wasn’t with today. We walked for what seems like forever, into the base of the township. Before I realized where I was, one of the ladies Nono (I’m not sure how to spell it...it has clucking in it and that’s how it’s pronounced haha), grabbed my hand and said “You must see this place, look around. It’s our training center and life skills. You learn everything you need to know here.” We walked around and they lead me to one of the doors (the building was like a storage building) and I looked inside, three old men were sitting there making art. The most beautiful homemade art I have ever seen. They didn’t even look up when I walked in (which is completely abnormal, given that I’m the only white girl, remember?). The ladies say, “this is special place for you, you need to come spend some time from these men and learn from them.” And, I do.. and I will.
Since this blog is starting to get long, I’m only going to talk about one of the visits I did today. Maybe I’ll touch on the others tomorrow. The first, Tembeka. Tembeka is a 25 year old terminally ill HIV+ mother of two babies and her ARV’s (medication for AIDS) has stopped working. When we were approaching the house, Nono says “Sissy, you must go to the door and ask. You need to get over your fears.” So, without any hesitation.. I walked up to their door (which is wide open remember, open door policies in Africa) to find a chubby little baby sitting in the shade of the door... in a milk crate. The babies little nook fell out of his mouth in awe, and then reached for me to pick him up. Since I was unsure of what’s acceptable here, one of the ladies behind me gave me a little shove in the door so she could pinch his cheeks. Nono told me to sit on the couch and wait. Tembeka came out and my heart instantly sank. She is my age... has two babies, and is visually terminally sick. I then realized how good I have it back home. Tembeka does not speak English, but when the ladies offered my services to her, she said yes, yes.. with absolutely no hesitation and she reached for my hand to hold. As she held my hand, she informed the ladies, who translated to me that she said “My youngest is negative, and my other will go in for his two year check up next week and will be tested.” Tembeka informed me that she was positive during both her pregnancies, which has made her youngest baby abnormally large, and her older baby has a significant clef lip due to being positive during the pregnancies. Soon it was time to go, and Tembeka stood her fragile self up to hug me and said something in Xhosa to her sister, who then brought me an orange. Coincidence? I think not. To be continued.........
Wow. Simply wow. Thanks for sharing this. You write beautifully. Love you. Dad
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