Umbrellas, Chickens, Guns, and Cows

The title aptly describes this week. I joined the Community workers to sign up children to be sponsored. We travelled dirt roads out to small villages that were about 30 – 40 minutes from the closest town. This is where the cow comes in. We were driving and then quickly slammed the brakes to avoid hitting a cow crossing the road. They just roam freely while a herder keeps track of there whereabouts. The villages if they are lucky have a health clinic, a school, a pre-school and a shop. Then there are shacks and houses often made with straw and cow dung.

We stopped at a pre-school, referred to as a crèche, where there were 19 little ones between the ages of 3 and 5. I have never witnessed such well behaved children. We arrived during their lunch, 4 sat at a table and it was quiet. The children waited patiently for their food and then each one walked their empty bowl to the kitchen. There was no shouting, pushing, or shoving. One little boy lost both his Mother and Father and now lives with his grandparents. I have decided to see if I can sponsor him directly. No one would say why his parents have died. His name is Machlomolo, which directly translated means disaster. He apparently is quite naughty, the type of kiddos that I like.

This week we had a financial meeting to discuss budget planning for the US grant that World Vision received. We spent about 20 minutes talking about chickens. Do we buy children broiler chickens or laying chickens? How do we monitor chickens if the animals are slaughtered? How do we assist to keep the chickens alive? Who will build the shelters? Should we expect orphaned children to look after chickens? By the end of this discussion we were laughing about what grant money actually looks like when it is implemented on the ground and how much time was spent talking about chickens. It reminded me of financial discussions at work when we talk about spending money on toiletries, or clothing, or sports equipment. This is just different applications to specific money distribution. Next we discussed whether we should distribute hats, mugs or umbrellas to volunteers. We decided on the umbrellas. (Umbrellas are used to protect against the strong sun rays.)

A startling experience occurred on Friday night. I went to an outdoor concert with Estelle and her friends. Sitting in front of us was a white couple with 3 young children. Then I noticed the man had a gun in holster at his waist. Exposed for all to see. I was stunned. I really wanted to ask him why he was wearing a gun. In retrospect I should have. I keep having these ahah moments that remind me that I am not in Canada anymore.

Last night Estelle and I went to see the movie, Catch a Fire. It played in Canada sometime in November but was not widely distributed. This is a movie set in South Africa and is not for the faint hearted viewer. We walked in the theatre and it was empty. We were later joined by a number of black people and two young white women. Estelle leaned over to me and predicted that these women would leave the theatre at some point during the movie. Within 10 minutes, they got up, left with their popcorn and did not return. Watching this behaviour made a tremendous impact on me in conjunction with the movie.

I would describe this past week as somewhat intense. I accompanied a home-based care worker to visit some of her patients. We visited four homes, 3 houses and one shack. In this heat I don’t know how people survive in their shacks. The metal roof just increases the temperature. In all cases there was a common thread between these people beyond their HIV+ status. All of them have felt it necessary to keep their status a secret. They have not disclosed to their partners, extended family, or community. I was surprised in a community where AIDS is talked about so frequently that the community remains unsafe to disclose. Perhaps I was naïve. This illness is so frightening and horrible. People who are diagnosed need the support of those around them as they journey through this time. The worker I accompanied is my age and she lives in a shack with her younger sister who is 17, while her Mother lives in another town and is a domestic worker. Her Father lives in another town as well. This young lady wants to pursue a social work degree, and watching her has convinced me she should aim for this goal. Finances remain a huge barrier.

Then that night I met with some white South Africans who wanted to know about Canada as they are planning to immigrate. After this meeting I felt so sad. Here were people who are in a sense fleeing their country because of their perception of a high crime rate and reverse oppression that the young white sons cannot find work here. I tried my best to challenge their reasons for leaving South Africa. My entire sense of this encounter was permeated with racism.

I hope you enjoy the photos. They are of various children that I have encountered and some of the staff people from World Vision in Johannesburg. The candle lighting ceremony was part of a closing program in honour of people affected and infected by AIDS. You will also see the house where I am residing and the fabulous family I stay with.

I have fascinating conversations with young people about the tradition of Lebola. This is the tradition of a woman’s family setting a cost for a man to marry the woman. The man’s Uncle’s must meet with the woman’s family and negotiate the Lebola. I asked the young women if they thought this tradition would eventually change. Some thought yes others no. The young men have indicated that Lebola is a way to honour the family and say thankyou for their daughter. There have been many discussions about whether there is a perception that the man “owns” the woman. This is not to be the intent however there have been occasions where this practice becomes abused and manipulated. So many young couple delay marriage until their finances are in order to pay Lebola.