First Congregational UCC - Platteville

Dear Friends and Family,

Dumelang! Le kae? (Where are you?) (Re teng . . . We are here). That is the most commonly used greeting for a group of people. For one person, you say, “A o teng?” (Are you there). The response is, “Ke teng.” (I’m here).

I am back in Kole after a long hiatus of life in civilization. I was held in Gabs by Peace Corps against my will for a few days after the medical office insisted that I go to South Africa for a medical check up. I was willing to have the medical check up, of course, but was frustrated that the office didn’t allow me any say in when it was. It meant missing a GLOW meeting in Kole and it’s difficult to have adequate communication with people via phone in Kole to explain a long absence. Anyway, I had to go to South Africa last week on Tuesday, with no return ticket at the time of departure, no negotiating. I really shouldn’t complain. It was a mini-vacation. The guest house where med-evacs stay is lavish. The bathroom had a heated floor. I brushed my teeth for an inordinate amount of time just to be able to stand on it. I think the last time I wrote about weather I was saying how hot it was. It’s gotten chilly. South Africa is even moreso. So, heated flooring was not a necessity, but a much appreciated luxury. Every morning we could order breakfast from the short menu that included an omelette and french toast (I had both and they were delicious). I had a cervical biopsy done in Pretoria. The biopsy results were all clear. No abnormal cells whatsoever. I got to go back to Botswana on Saturday. This was good news to me. I found out before I left that I was one of few Peace Corps volunteers accepted to help with Camp Hope.

An hour after I got back to Botswana, last Saturday, I was in a meeting with other counselors for Camp Hope. Camp Hope is a nation wide thing for kids who are HIV positive. The camp here is run by Baylor Clinic, a children’s clinic attached to the main hospital (Princess Marina) in Gaborone. The clinic takes care of about 1,500 kids in about a 100 km radius catchment area. There are many more who need the care in the rest of the country. They are hoping to build another children’s clinic in Francistown. Some (well-off) families bring their children from very far, as it is, since it is the only facility in the country with pediatricians.

The camp was four days of fun for the kids. Arts and crafts, sports, swimming, character development class, free time filled with camp games and songs led by yours truly J, a game drive in Mokgolodi Game Reserve just outside Gabs, a Mr. Bean movie, and the most popular event – Camp Hope Talent Show. We didn’t talk about HIV. Some counselors felt it would be a good venue to let the kids discuss with each other. But I tend to agree with the camp leaders that HIV is already enough a part of their life. It’s sort of in their face, as it is. There are sessions at the clinic for expressing anger at their parents for making them positive, for expressing grief at losing parents, for expressing confusion and sadness at their status . . . It is very rare that they get to feel like normal kids. We gave them that for four days. Sixty-five kids were selected for the camp. Fifty-eight came. They all had some particularly bad situation at home, or were very sick recently, or had stopped, for whatever reason, wanting to take their medicines. (One of my girls told me that her grandmother had made her stop). Stopping ARV therapy is very dangerous. The ARV’s slow down the replication process of the virus. If it is given a chance to replicate, it does so at an alarming rate, will weaken the immune system quickly, and, most worrisome, will have more opportunities to create a stronger strain of the virus that will be resistant to the ARV’s. Resistant strains will be transmittable. It’s a formidable thought. The kids would all take their meds together at meal time, as if it were the most normal thing in the world. Doctors would pass out the little baggies that we had helped organize and label during check in and make sure everyone was taking everything properly (many needed redirection on their inhalers or how to use the syringes to get liquid out of medicine bottles).

As camps tend to be, it was a rewarding experience. This was especially fulfilling for me because it was the first time when I felt like, “Hey, this is what I came here for.” I knew, for sure, that I was reaching my target audience. I had the idea that I would be doing palliative care related to HIV/AIDS work. Since ARV’s, that kind of work has become less necessary and it is harder for an outsider to be in the position to do so. I crave that sort of first-hand contact, though. The smile of the boy whose doll I helped to dress in arts and crafts will be one of the things I remember about my Peace Corps service. The joy of one of my girls after having swum across the pool almost on her own is another. It was poignant to realize that these kids, full of life and energy and talent, were cursed with this thing that will eventually kill them, prematurely. Still, it is our job to support them while they are here, and treat them with as much normalcy as possible, not being too obvious in an outpouring of love that has a sense of urgency behind it.

There are privacy issues behind sharing too much about camp. We couldn’t take any pictures. Some parents/caretakers have refused to sign photo consents, not wanting anyone to know about their child’s status. Some kids are only partly aware of their status. They know they have to take meds, they vaguely understand they are sick, but the details of how they got sick and even what HIV is have not been explained to all of them, at their caretakers’ discretion (which is infuriating to me, despite my efforts to refrain from judgement).

I think this is the first time I have returned from time away from village life without experiencing some adjustment pains. I slipped easily into the weekend routine of washing clothes, reading a book (Anil’s Ghost, by the same person who wrote The English Patient, it’s excellent), checking my nurse’s baby who is no longer such a baby, playing the guitar ‘til my fingers hurt . . . It is reinforcing to feel that I came home. The smell of my house was familiar. Lefifi’s loud protests at my long absence greeted me even before I had stepped onto the porch. (Meooww, Meow, Meow, Meoooww). He has since attached himself to my lap. Even with only my own thoughts to keep me company for long hours, I do not find myself pining for people who I can’t talk to or craving the distractions and business of town/city life (which used to happen upon returning from Gabs).

There was a bit of sadness coming home, though. One of the patients at the health post who I visited with the nurse on home visits a couple of times (she was HIV positive) passed away. She was young. Late 20’s. I’m not sure if she has children, though I would be surprised if she didn’t. I couldn’t bring myself to go to the service, partly because it was too sad, and partly because I was getting over a “flu” that I picked up from a camp full of kids and needed rest. Funerals in Botswana are not conducive to rest. On Friday night, there is a prayer service that starts at 9pm and goes ‘til 4am. Then, at 5:30am, they start again. The burial service ends around 10am. Still not time to sleep, everyone goes back to the families home for lunch. Pearl and Twenty checked me on their way home from the funeral, so I could at least express my condolences to them. They knew her well, had been taking care of her for some time.

My sunflowers are growing very tall. I have tomato plants that I may have to dig up and put inside in buckets in order to protect them from cold that seems to be coming on at an alarming rate. I have a cantaloupe that is ripening nicely. My carrots and onions are almost all done. It feels like fall.

The next big event I am looking forward to is a Zebras 4 Life, Test 4 Life football tournament the first weekend in May. I will be attending meetings and visiting the District AIDS Coordinator’s office in Charleshill this week to get things organized. The plan is to have four men’s teams play on Saturday and two women’s teams on Sunday. There will be catered lunch for the players. They must have tested (they will wear a blue wrist band that says, “Ke itse seemo same!” (I know my status)) in order to play. Tebelopele is a nation wide organization that provides mobile testing centers for events like this. They are scheduled to come for the weekend to supplement Pearl’s capacity for testing all the players and (hopefully) a bunch of community members! Wish me luck. J

Love and miss you all,

Leah