Good Lord. I am behind on the updates.
here is the trick. I got a new computer before I left Atlant. AWESOME!!! Well, new Windowns is confusing to me. What I want to do is be able to write my thoughts in Word every night and then just copy it the blog when I get to the computer room. BUT IT WON"T WORK and so I am behind.
WORLD AIDS DAY- last Tuesday, day 2
The night before, or the end of day one, we stayed up to creat a performance piece for the World Aids Day fesitivities at Refilwe. All of the neighboring communities were involved for an all day event. We ended up creating a piece that was a mixture of dance, drama and music. We used a song that had been created by kids in Port Elizabeth called Crossroads. Mauricio and I were a couple and Damien and Cindy represented our inner selves for the first section. The whole thing started with a poem in Tswana that Pete receited. Then Mauricio, from inside the audience, yelled, "Why, did you not tell me?" Cindy came from behind me to the middle of the stage and danced my emotional response, getting to a place where I was able to say, "Because I was afraid." Damien danced Mo's emotional response until Mo was able to say, "I forgive you." Then D and C did a mini partner duet in between us that ended with M and I standing right behind them in the same position. Then the song started with Tanesha on guitar and Will singing lead vocals. Part 2 was a challenge walk with D holding back Mo and C holding me back as we tried to walk down a road. The chorus of the song is "Supumelela" which means, "we will rise above." When the song got to the chorus, we were able to shake off the things that were holding us back and came together for an embrace. Then, looking around, we realized the journey still in front of us was going to be equally challenging. We both gave up and sank to the ground. Then C and D came and picked us up and helped us on our journey. The song closed out with Pete saying some inspirational words in Tswana.
Not bad for an hour at the end of day one. Our theme was that every day, people have to make a choice. From the initial diagnosis of HIV, to every day committing to choose life and take their ARVs. That when you reach one mountain top, there can be many more that loom ahead. But there is strength in fmaily and loved ones and the people around you and with their support, you can keep going. This is an incredibly strong fiath based community and it was pretty amazing how many people saw God in our piece even though it wasn't inherently part of the message we planned.
Throughout the day there were amazing talks and testimonials and at noon it was "Make noise for AIDS." They passed out these big plastic trumpet things and everyone blew into them and made noise for 60 seconds straight. the whole thing was pretty overwhelming. HIV/AIDS is so prevelant here and yet there is still stigma around it. The overall self worth of people is so inherently low. I don't know if its poverty or apartheid or lack of education or HIV or some heinous combination of all of those things. The total breakdown of the family unit. The complete lack of fathers that almost all these kids have. The high high high reate of teenage pregnancy. There is so much these people have working against them and yet, so many of them have love and joy and warmth and so desparately want it to be reciprocated. It's challenging to not get overwhelmed.
Bit by bit, exericise by exercise, talk by talk, hug by hug, we can make a difference. I can make a difference. There is so much to learn from these people about survival of spirit, the will the continue, to fight to soar.
We have started teaching our leadership camp. We have 20 kids from Refilwe and the neighboring informal settlements. I took a trip to the settlements one of the days last week and it was like nothing I have ever experienced. There are hundreds, maybe thousands of homes clustered in a section of land. Homes. Homes are shacks made out of pieces of tin, or wood that is hollow inside (this community is nicknamed Hollywood.) The shacks are maybe 12 x 12. Families live in this room. Mothers, fathers, all the children and sometimes the extended family. We visited day cares at some of the settlements. The children vary. Some are scared of white people. Some run up for a hug. Some hide. Some want to sing you a song. One of the day cares had a great playground with a jungle gym behind the shack. One was just the shack. It was nap time for the babies, so we just peeked in and they were lying on the floor, some sleeping some opening their wide eyes to stare at us. Some were malnutrishioned and had distended bellies. None of them swatted away the flies that were kissing their faces. Some of the children taught us the Tswana version of "heads, shoulders, knees and toes" which I have promptly forgotten.
After each settlement, I would use anti-bac gel and then have a twinge of white person guilt. Did I treat them the same as I would have kids in a school in America? Was I as affectionate as I would normally have been? Was there something holding me back? The first place we went to, there was a little 2 year old girl. The woman who runs the daycare told us that the little girl was dropped off at 3 every morning so the mother could go to work. The mother used to leave the girl at home with the girl's uncle but then realized the uncle was raping the little girl.
I don't know what to do with that information. I am standing and looking a two year old. A two year old. Some part of my brain protects my heart from fully comprehending what the woman has just told me. Because how can I? How can I hear that, really hear that, and walk away? How can I hear that and not go to every shack and see where else it is happening. Because it is happening everywhere.
Bit by bit, exercise by exercise, talk by talk, hug by hug, we can make a difference. I can make a difference.
here is the trick. I got a new computer before I left Atlant. AWESOME!!! Well, new Windowns is confusing to me. What I want to do is be able to write my thoughts in Word every night and then just copy it the blog when I get to the computer room. BUT IT WON"T WORK and so I am behind.
WORLD AIDS DAY- last Tuesday, day 2
The night before, or the end of day one, we stayed up to creat a performance piece for the World Aids Day fesitivities at Refilwe. All of the neighboring communities were involved for an all day event. We ended up creating a piece that was a mixture of dance, drama and music. We used a song that had been created by kids in Port Elizabeth called Crossroads. Mauricio and I were a couple and Damien and Cindy represented our inner selves for the first section. The whole thing started with a poem in Tswana that Pete receited. Then Mauricio, from inside the audience, yelled, "Why, did you not tell me?" Cindy came from behind me to the middle of the stage and danced my emotional response, getting to a place where I was able to say, "Because I was afraid." Damien danced Mo's emotional response until Mo was able to say, "I forgive you." Then D and C did a mini partner duet in between us that ended with M and I standing right behind them in the same position. Then the song started with Tanesha on guitar and Will singing lead vocals. Part 2 was a challenge walk with D holding back Mo and C holding me back as we tried to walk down a road. The chorus of the song is "Supumelela" which means, "we will rise above." When the song got to the chorus, we were able to shake off the things that were holding us back and came together for an embrace. Then, looking around, we realized the journey still in front of us was going to be equally challenging. We both gave up and sank to the ground. Then C and D came and picked us up and helped us on our journey. The song closed out with Pete saying some inspirational words in Tswana.
Not bad for an hour at the end of day one. Our theme was that every day, people have to make a choice. From the initial diagnosis of HIV, to every day committing to choose life and take their ARVs. That when you reach one mountain top, there can be many more that loom ahead. But there is strength in fmaily and loved ones and the people around you and with their support, you can keep going. This is an incredibly strong fiath based community and it was pretty amazing how many people saw God in our piece even though it wasn't inherently part of the message we planned.
Throughout the day there were amazing talks and testimonials and at noon it was "Make noise for AIDS." They passed out these big plastic trumpet things and everyone blew into them and made noise for 60 seconds straight. the whole thing was pretty overwhelming. HIV/AIDS is so prevelant here and yet there is still stigma around it. The overall self worth of people is so inherently low. I don't know if its poverty or apartheid or lack of education or HIV or some heinous combination of all of those things. The total breakdown of the family unit. The complete lack of fathers that almost all these kids have. The high high high reate of teenage pregnancy. There is so much these people have working against them and yet, so many of them have love and joy and warmth and so desparately want it to be reciprocated. It's challenging to not get overwhelmed.
Bit by bit, exericise by exercise, talk by talk, hug by hug, we can make a difference. I can make a difference. There is so much to learn from these people about survival of spirit, the will the continue, to fight to soar.
We have started teaching our leadership camp. We have 20 kids from Refilwe and the neighboring informal settlements. I took a trip to the settlements one of the days last week and it was like nothing I have ever experienced. There are hundreds, maybe thousands of homes clustered in a section of land. Homes. Homes are shacks made out of pieces of tin, or wood that is hollow inside (this community is nicknamed Hollywood.) The shacks are maybe 12 x 12. Families live in this room. Mothers, fathers, all the children and sometimes the extended family. We visited day cares at some of the settlements. The children vary. Some are scared of white people. Some run up for a hug. Some hide. Some want to sing you a song. One of the day cares had a great playground with a jungle gym behind the shack. One was just the shack. It was nap time for the babies, so we just peeked in and they were lying on the floor, some sleeping some opening their wide eyes to stare at us. Some were malnutrishioned and had distended bellies. None of them swatted away the flies that were kissing their faces. Some of the children taught us the Tswana version of "heads, shoulders, knees and toes" which I have promptly forgotten.
After each settlement, I would use anti-bac gel and then have a twinge of white person guilt. Did I treat them the same as I would have kids in a school in America? Was I as affectionate as I would normally have been? Was there something holding me back? The first place we went to, there was a little 2 year old girl. The woman who runs the daycare told us that the little girl was dropped off at 3 every morning so the mother could go to work. The mother used to leave the girl at home with the girl's uncle but then realized the uncle was raping the little girl.
I don't know what to do with that information. I am standing and looking a two year old. A two year old. Some part of my brain protects my heart from fully comprehending what the woman has just told me. Because how can I? How can I hear that, really hear that, and walk away? How can I hear that and not go to every shack and see where else it is happening. Because it is happening everywhere.
Bit by bit, exercise by exercise, talk by talk, hug by hug, we can make a difference. I can make a difference.
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