HIV Beautiful

Everyday we meet people coming and going, and sometimes those people leave unforgettable marks on our path. Thank you to my beautiful new friend who has allowed me to share our experience together with you all.

We walked up to the house to be greeted by a slightly cracked open and welcoming door. It was painted a bright ocean aqua blue. In my head the phrase rang, “Come on in the waters fine.” After an echoing knock, we decided to rest in the shade and wait. A few minutes passed and a booming “DUMELA” (hello) came from behind. The bright and welcoming essence I felt from just the front door matched its owner perfectly. We shook hands as we were introduced, and just as contagious as watching someone yawn, I couldn’t help but smile with my new friend.

The bright blue paint followed onto the walls as we walked in. Serenity. As my colleagues and I sat down, my new friend joined me on the couch and placed her new bottles of ARVs fresh from the clinic on the coffee table.

With a sight of relief sinking into the couch, she turned to me and smiled. “O pila Samanta.” (You are beautiful Samantha). “Ke a legboga, o pila,” I responded. (Thank you, you are beautiful). “YOOOO!” Impressed with the little Tswana I knew, we chatted and I learned even more. She brought out old pictures of her and her son, who shares the same name as my brother. Her body was different in these pictures from what I saw of her now, but her spirit was undeniably the same. My colleagues told me she likes to talk a lot, which made all of us laugh. Laughter breaks language barriers.

As our special time together drew to a close, I wasn’t ready to say goodbye. The feeling must have been mutual. My friend linked arms with me and together we walked down the street. Looking down I watched as our feet and strides fell in sync. My boots clicked on the sandy rocks as her bare feet glided along ever so quietly. The road was a part of her home. As the hot sun shined down on our heads and our arms draped around each other’s backs, I was beyond grateful for this true experience of accompaniment. We hugged as she kissed my chest farewell for now. “O pila Samanta.” “Tsamaya pila tsala.” (Go well my friend).

HIV: Human Immunodeficiency Virus

According to UNAIDS, approximately 36.7 million people are living with HIV/AIDS. “The HIV epidemic not only affects the health of individuals, it impacts households, communities, and the development and economic growth of nations” (hiv.gov, 2017).

Before my journey to South Africa, I knew about HIV, but not as well as I should have. I did not know the vastness and the impact it has had over time on this country, and so many others throughout the world. In a book titled “28 Stories of Aids in Africa,” Stephanie Nolen describes HIV as a virus that “destroys the immune system.” HIV is spread by transmission, commonly known through shared needles, sex, and breast milk. Although there is no cure, researchers have produced Antiretroviral Therapy (ARVs) that help people with HIV to stop the virus from reproducing. However, use of this medication is not always available or accessed for a variety of reasons, including negative stigmas and judgement.

Nolan states, “HIV grows best in imbalances of power, it has erupted and spread out from the most marginalized groups in human societies.” HIV continues to show us that the more we divide, discriminate, and other, the more we continue to fight an endless battle. Listen. Please take some time to learn more about HIV and find organizations that do good work in awareness and support.

Thank you to my new friend who has taught me more than she will ever know.

HIV beautiful.

6:30 a.m.

6:30 a.m.

There’s no need for an alarm; the bright sun and early rustling movements outside the window tell me it’s a new day. I hear the man selling vegetables as his voice echoes, “Yeeeeeaaaauuuuupppp” through each street surrounding me.

I’m out of bed. I wash my face and am refreshed for the day. I walk over for breakfast as I am greeted by a warm welcomed, “Good morning!” from my hosts, Moruti (pastor) and Mama Ruti (pastor’s wife). As I walk into the kitchen to fix my cereal and grab a banana, I read the magnet on the refrigerator that says:

“Grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change. The courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference.” -Niebuhr

Exactly what I need to be reminded of each morning.

I bid my home at the Modisa Lutheran Church (ELCSA) farewell for the day, as I walk out of the gates of the compound. The sound of the rocky dirt beneath me scruffs and crackles. I greet those on their way to school and work in Tswana:

“Dumela” (Hello)
“Agee” (Yes, hello)
“Le kae?” (How are you?)
“Keteng” (I am fine)

Some days I walk to the crèche (daycare/preschool). I’m greeted by 12 wide eyes and 24 tiny waving hands. “Mama Samanta!!!” For the day I’m complete immersed in the Tswana language. Children’s song are the best way to learn a language in my newfound opinion. During the day I help out Mama Hulu and Mama Nkele, both whose children are now grown up, but these 12 kiddos are just like their own. I learn how to cook pap and gravy with Mama Nkele in the kitchen for lunch. She teaches me to sing and dance as we wash after. Mama Hulu laughs as I attempt to respond to these unstoppable kiddos in Tswana. After all the children have left, the three of us walk together on our ways home. “Tsamaya pila” (Go well)

Some days I walk to the taxi stop. I meet up with Wendy, as we journey to the town over called Winterfeld. For the day we will stop by homes of those who are suffering from HIV/AIDS. We check on them, and from time to time bring them things like toiletries and groceries that they may need. The HIV/AIDS crisis is real, and we do not talk about it enough. I certainly didn’t before. In a book I finished this week called “28 Stories of AIDS in Africa” (2007), Stephanie Nolan says, “Each day in Africa, 6,000 people die of HIV/AIDS–a treatable, preventable illness. We have twenty-eight million reasons to act.” I certainly still have a lot to learn.

Some days I walk to the primary school, Kopa Dilalelo. With 600 learners (students), I am excitedly overwhelmed with hellos. “Lekua tlaya” (White person come). At the school there are grades R-7 (K-7). Each morning the 17 teachers and staff gather in the office. We have a morning song and prayer, followed by check-ins. I’m amazed at the collaboration. A teacher for grade 4 told me on my first day that, without heart you simply cannot do this job. I help me friends in the office, two women who file reports of every class and subject…. too many for me to count. I listen to them as they tell me more about their lives as single parents, with huge smiles as I ask to see pictures. My short walk home I am accompanied by students. They walk with me, ask me questions and as always try to teach me more Tswana. “Tomorrow” they say.

Some days I join members of my congregation for worship, funerals, or other services. I’m greeted warmly by familiar faces, “Sammy my dear!” The happiness, pride, and joy is beyond contagious. Whoever is around me shares their Tswana hymnal book with me, pointing to the words as we go along the song. Sometimes I stand up or do things at the wrong time, followed by caring chuckles and love. “Amen”

I live in Mabopane, South Africa. Mabopane is a township. Townships were established due to the Land Act in the 40s during Apartheid. (Please take some time to read and learn more about the South African Apartheid. A blog to come soon!) Mabopane is a place of movement, of learning, of tradition and community. A place where you go to funerals and weddings together. A place where you walk and share stories together. A place I have come to know over these past two weeks as home, and a place that has a lot to teach me.

My day draws to a close as I watch Mama Ruti water her rose garden in front of the house. Moruti and I chat about the day as the warm orange sun sets. Another day of listening, learning and living.

6:30 p.m.

Wonder

Today we went to Tea on 23, my new favorite spot in Pietermaritzburg. It’s this beautiful cafe where you can sit outside and become surrounded by all kinds of liveliness. As chickens and roosters play hide in seek in the bushes around you, you grow to be amazed at the tree near by full of purple and white flowers. Sometimes you even catch a glance of a majestic peacock passing by, but only for a second. It seems like everywhere you look there is something you didn’t notice before; a tiny chair that I would have been so eager to test out as a kid, a stone path that could lead you to a new hidden place, or a tall tree that you wonder what stories it could tell.

Wonder.

While we were finishing up our meal, these two woman who we had met one of them earlier this week, asked to join us for a chat. It felt like a breath of fresh air to be invited into conversation. I think now about this in a U.S. context, we have been losing a sense of authenticity. With so much technology, stigmas, divisions and time restraints, we aren’t as willing to spend a little bit more time hearing about each others lives. Or even asking. We lose patience, and I know I certainly have over these last four years in college. I would get so wrapped up in what needed to be done that day, in that hour, and deviance from the plan was not in my schedule.

As we sat together in the refreshing shade, our conversation turned to one of hope. These women shared their ideas of trust and authenticity in faith. In just meeting our group for a short period of time today, they were able to grasp onto a glimpse of each of our lives. One woman turned me smiling, letting me know that she felt my sense of child-like wonder. I was amazed. By just having a simple conversation, she saw something in me that I forget about. I was reminded of my own joy and creativity by a stranger. In the craziness of life, I’ve learned to get to the point, get the tasks on the lists done. It happens to the most of us. We can’t help but get wrapped up into what is in front of us that truly blinds us. There are so many languages to learn, people to meet, music to hear, food to eat, sunsets to watch and moons to gaze.

Turn judgement into wonder.

During orientation in Chicago, we were told as volunteers going into this year to turn our judgement into wonder. It hit me like a brick wall. I felt caught in the act, because I certainly haven’t been using my judgement as an introduction to a change in perspective. I realize this isn’t a practice that will be perfected overnight, but I think practicing overnight is key. I want to continue growing in the struggle to learn to better listen, ask big questions, and wonder more often.

As we drive around town each day, I see so many things. I see scarlet red dirt that shines brighter midday and makes me smile as it reminds me of my childhood. I see people walking home from the store or work chatting on the sidewalk together. I hear so many different languages that ring sounds of relation rather than drowning in words. I feel the deep orange sun as it kisses the mountains goodnight. I wonder what I have missed and hope I will see it tomorrow.

As our in-country orientation comes to a close this weekend, I’m excited to not just turn my judgement into wonder, but to continue to wonder more and more. At the entrance of the building at Tea on 23, their sign states:

“Life is a mystery to be lived, not a problem to be solved.”

Let the mystery unravel and the wonder begin.

Home

Hello friends! Welcome to the first of many blog posts for this next upcoming YAGM year. I am very excited and grateful for you all to walk beside me on this journey.

 

Home.

In my room, I watch our crazy cat follow every movement and bird outside as she presses her nose against the glass window. Sitting on my bed, I am surrounded by my old high school awards, an abundance of seashells I’ve collected over the years, and so much purple everywhere you might guess it is my favorite color. (No doubt it is.) A lot has changed in this room over a period of 10 years. The walls are accompanied by different picture frames now and I’ve rearranged the furniture who knows how many times. I love this room and I’ve grown a lot living in it.

I think about my college diploma that’s now tucked away in my bedside chest after four years of hard work. Little did I know what was in store for me four years ago. I was welcomed with open arms into my second home Virginia Tech. A home that I shared the same space with the most unforgettable and life-changing roommate every day. A home that helped me embrace self-understanding and integrity.  A home that surrounded me with unforgettable people and mountains.

This summer has been filled with endless hugs, the kind of laughter that makes your cheeks hurt, and tears wiped away because the farewells are not forever. I’m so grateful for my wonderful family and friends who have shaped my sense of home. Home is a place your feet may leave but your heart will always be with those you shared it with.

Leaving home will not be the easiest thing I do, because home is comfortable and familiar. But this YAGM year is meant to be uncomfortable and unfamiliar. It will be a year of even more change, uncertainty and growth. I am so very excited for South Africa to become my home for the next year, and all the changes that will accompany it. I will be living intentionally in community that will shape me in ways I don’t even know or expect. I have a lot to learn.

I wanted to again say thank you to all of you who continue to support me through a variety of gifts in preparation for my year. Knowing I have so much love and support back home surrounding me during this next year of living in community means a lot to me. In just a few days I will be on my way to orientation in Chicago. Upon arrival, I will be greeted by an amazing ELCA Global Missions staff and 90 other volunteers from around the country. Together we will go out into the world to walk alongside our global companions and these places we call home.

Let the journey begin!

 

 

-SND