Exhausted:
I felt a bit better today. That is until around 5:00, then everything fell apart. We started our half hour walk to Salama Shield in the cool morning. The sun had been partly obscured by clouds, and as we turned to walk down the main road we saw the entire valley shrouded in mist. Tall trees and brush poked their heads up just above the low-lying clouds. Today Eliza and I seemed like less of a novelty, but many people still stared. I mean who wouldn’t? The town probably rarely saw white people. At Salama Shield we were the first to arrive, unlike yesterday when we had been the last. When the others arrived we discovered we have a lunch budget of 200,000 shilling per month that the programmers at ISL failed to inform us about. The whole way they did the planning for this trip kinda just pisses me off to no end, but whatever. As my mother says it is what it is. As we waited for our instructions I met Hadjat Sarah. She had been the host mom to my friend Sarah last year, and I was happy to meet the person whom I had heard so much about. She greeted me as if I were an old friend. Once transportation had been arranged Hadjat Sarah, the six of us from UBC, Benen (who is in charge of my group), and a driver all piled into a pick up truck. Because there was not enough room for all of us in the cab for the second time that week (I had ridden on the back of a Boda on Sunday) I found myself taking a mode of transportation I never imagined I would; I road in the bed of a pick up truck for more than just a few minuets. All day as we drove from village to village I found myself nestled into the bed of the truck amongst the school supplies we were handing out.
For our fist stop we drove along the highway and turned off into the bush. The only way the road was even visible was by the three person wide gap in the banana trees. We bumped along the dirt road until the road widened into a clearing where there were three or four concrete buildings surrouned by mud huts. This was one of the woman’s groups that had a micro loan from Salama Shield. While Hadjat Sarah explained how this group worked to Courtney and Eliza the other four of us played hide and seek with the children who were not at school. They would hide around the side of the building, and only occasionally try to approach us. When we said “Oliotia” (how are you) to them they giggled and ran. After a few minuets one of the little girls came up to me and with her hand out kneeled and said. “How are you?” I kneeled down as well. This little girl wore tattered close, and was not in school probably for financial reasons, yet she smiled wide. If there is one thing that the past two days have taught me its that happiness comes from being around and with those that love you, and that you are close with. The children continued to come up, shake my hand while kneeling, giggle then run away. For each child I would stand up, and kneel with my knees touching the ground in hopes that they would know I was not merely squatting to shake their hands. I know I am older and white, but I feel that these children deserve just as much respect as I do. I have lead an easy and blessed life (sorry for the religious part there for the non-religious leaders); hers has not been as easy. If it had been easy her family would not have been able to get a loan from Salama Shield. We gave some of the school supplies in the back to one of the mothers who had a beautiful sleeping baby on her shoulder. It was not until the first school we found out why.
From there we drove back through the grove. We had left three people behind to meet with the loan group, which left me the only person left in the back of the truck. As we drove I felt like royalty. The wind wiped through my bunned hair; blowing wisps about my face. Each time we passed a child they would smile and shout “Hey mzungu!” As I waved back the smile on their face increased. The adults were more sceptical when they saw me, but as I smiled so did they. It was as if they had seen an old friend waving back at them.
We spent the rest of the day in a similar fashion. The next stop was a school just across the main road. The grounds of the school were small, but well maintained. They had a garden, and a sign above the Head Teachers door. Now, for those of you who have never seen these schools they look a bit like the ones in California. They are long buildings one room wide with only holes for doors and windows. Which open to the main courtyard. Most of the primary schools look like bombed out buildings than schools. From the outside you can barley see the desks, but when you get closer you notice them. The only distinguishable feature to delineate the buildings as schools and not empty storage spaces (well for the public ones anyway) are the paintings of different tools and terms on some of the walls. While some schools were nicer than others this was the case for most of them. The white and blue signs warning kids about sex and reminding them to be kind hung from the trees, and could also identify schools. They read, “Boys accept body changes,” “Girls accept body changes,” “Don’t except gifts from strangers,” “treat people with HIV the same,” ect.
At the first school Benen corralled Jenna (my partner for the Mbuntu Dialogue project), Claire, and Sandra (partners on the health project) into the Head Teachers closet office. The room was exactly three people and an arms length wide. As we sat smoshed on a bench that took up the whole room we listened to Benen ask the head teacher if he knew of any children living positively in the school, and if so if he could give Benen the name. Benen explained that we had supplies in the back of our truck for these children, and so that they were not stigmatized, Benen had supplies for the rest of their family as well. He explained that this way they kids had an incentive to go to and stay in school. It also lessened the financial burden on the families who had children who were living positively. That is when reality started to hit. The family we had just given school supply’s to have a child who was HIV positive. At the first school a boy was brought into the office where his address was taken down for Benen to visit him later. His uniform was well pressed and clean, but he had odd marks on his head. He stood awkwardly as Benen talked to him in Lugandan, and occasionally gave the four-mzungu sideways glances. Benen asked the Head Teacher if he knew of anyone else in the school that lived positively. The head teacher reported that this was a difficult question, because there may be many children that they suspected of being positive, but few that told the teachers.
This theme continued for every school we went to. The teachers would bring one or two children forward, but explain that it might be more difficult to identify others. Benen explained (at some schools) that he knew of children that were living positive in that community. He hoped that at the next parent meeting the teachers would explain that Salama Shield had supplies for members in the community who had children who were living positive. He hoped that the students would then come forward and communicate with the students. For Benen, however, this issue of teachers not knowing students who were positive concerned him, not just because he couldn’t get them supplies, but for what he saw as a deeper problem in the community. He had talked with some students from the community in weeks past and they expressed their distrust of sharing their status with their teachers. To Benen this translated into less support from the teachers for these students. If the teachers did not know that the child had HIV they could not boil drinking water for them or share their lunch. This would make the retro-viral harder to take and less effective. It would also make it harder for them to stay in school where they could not access water as easily, if at all. By “tempting” the students to tell the teacher with school supplies Benen hoped to be able to create a community support network for the community.
In between schools we would visit houses in the communities to see the children with HIV and distribute material. The second house we visited (after the one hidden in the bush) sat about 70 meters from a school. The Head Teacher had told Benen that he knew the boy who lived there to be positive. When we walked to the home the parents could were working in the fields, and the boy had been left to watch his younger syblings. Benen asked why he was not in school. They boy said it was because he did not have enough money for supplies. Benen then asked him if he had HIV, and explained about the school supplies. That if he was positive, he and his family could have them. They boy denied it. Benen said that this happened often. People who he knew to be positive would claim to be negative. The next day when we were out we saw a family deny that their child tested positive though the hospital said they had. Luckily for the boy had and syblings when we retruned later the mother affermined that he tested positive, and that she tested positive as well.
As we went from village to village our job wore on me mentally. We visited one where there were around thirty children running around during the middle of the day. They wore close full of holes. Many of the younger ones wore only long t-shirts and no pants or underpants. Their close had so much dust clinging to them that it appeared that no matter how much washing they endured the dust would still be present. The children’s feet were just as bad. Walking around without shoes or pants dust lightened their feet and lower legs so that they were almost the same colour as a mzungu. Their smiles distorted by the dried buggers that caked their upper lips. Many of the children in other villages, we would find out, also looked like this. Benen had a large family to distribute books to this time, and while we waited I tried to teach the kids to “Indian Whistle” (Sorry for being culturally insensitive, but I don’t know what else to call it). They giggled as they attempted to mimic the high-pitched sound that emerged form my hands. Manny also giggled as Jenna showed them the photos she had taken of them. A few younger ones took turns dragging a bottle on a string behind them. Two seemed particularly fascinated with the truck and tried to climb up onto it. For one boy I believe that in looking at the chrome bumper he saw his reflection for the first time. I watched as he attentively observed the boy in the chrome. He stared, then held out his index finger to meet the other boys, and then kissed the reflection. I’m still unsure if he knew the boy was himself.
Not all the children were as friendly sometimes they just stared. Other times they shouted loudly and waved. One girl waved at me until she disappeared into a speck in the distance. I did not dare to be the first one to stop waving.
At one village we met up with Courtney and Eliza again. From there we drove to the school that Agnes and Peace (Courtney and Sandra’s host mom) worked at. They greeted us with smiles and warm hugs, as if we had not seen each other in years. It had been six hours. Their school looked more official. The head teacher’s office was more spacious and could fit all of us comfortably. The far wall had tall metal lockers with lessons on them, and the posters hung on the wall in a neat fashion. Instead of being cluttered every object had a place. As we sat Benen talked to two little girls and a boy. As Benen talked to the last girl Eliza understood what he was doing. The light bulb went on in her head and tears appeared in her eyes as she realized that the ten-year-old girl was living positively.
We went back to lunch at Jenna and Clair’s then back to the field. We distributed a few more books. When we went back to the fist boy’s house an old man came up to us spoke in Lugandan. We had no idea what he was saying, but in the end Benen said he wanted to be like us.
We arrived at the last village around six at night. By that point my emotions were raw. I had seen more positive adults and children then I imagned. The last village hit us all though like a baseball bat over the head. Most of the village came out to watch us distribute books to a family they deemed as needed help more than the rest. The family consisted of an 80 year whose son and his wife had died of AIDs, and left her with five kids; the oldest two of which were positive. The community helped to bring supplies into their small one room house as Benen talked to the chief of the village. As dust from the back of the truck consumed the village Courtney, Eliza, and I could not hold the tears in. Sitting in the back of the truck we let the water works flow as we tried to wrap our heads around what we had just seen.
My tears continued as we walked home. My stomach ached from foodstuff, but from what I had seen as well. I did not know if I could handle it. Eliza wizly said that no human should have to see what we saw that day. It should not be a thing. All humans should have the chance to live a healthy life. It has taken me four days to finish writing his. When I came home my moral hung like a shredded banner in the wind that clung desperately to the pole of sanity. I could not believe how strong Benen was to go out almost every day and hand out goats and books to these families. He made such a large impact on these people’s lives. He was so strong to be able to look these people’s hardships in the face and say, “not today. Today I will do all I can to make their lives easier, and to make you less of a problem.” I admire him above almost anyone I have ever met.
