Day Twelve (July 14, 2006)
The last two days have been remarkably different than all the previous. People who are enrolled at the clinic are placed in cohorts and tend to come back at the same time for their follow up appointments. The cohort seen over the last several days were all put on ARV’s in early 2005. Most who arrive at the clinic are gravely ill with CD4 counts well below 100 and many die despite treatment. Those that survive and remain on ARV’s keep coming faithfully. Yesterday and today, it felt more like I was at the Masai Centre - basically well people with climbing CD4 counts, vibrant, energetic and happy. There is a growing group of people like this who have survived and will continue to survive now that a second line regimen has become available. If we could only persist. If the political and humanitarian will remains, Africa might be saved.
The Tsepong I am witnessing, the Lesotho I am experiencing is apparently a far cry better than even 6 months ago.
Paulina is one of our interpreters. These women are called expert patients. They all have HIV and they have all committed their lives to working at the clinic. Tsepong saved their lives. Each has a horrendous story to tell. Paulina worked in a factory that employed 2,000 people. She says that four years ago, everyone was dying and word was out that they were dying of HIV. She went to the owner of the company and asked if he would pay to transport the entire staff to Maseru, 90 minutes away, and have them all tested. Maseru was the only place in Lesotho where HIV testing was available. For treatment, you had to be wealthy enough to travel to a private clinic in South Africa. The employer agreed and Paulina started a crusade. Despite her courageous efforts, only three people agreed to go and all three were positive including Paulina. The factory had to shut down. Over half of it’s employees died of HIV.
The stigma associated with HIV in Africa has changed little in the last 5 years. Those that are brave enough to present for testing and treatment put their lives at risk. I thank each one I see that has tested positive that day. I thank them for their courage and strength. Each time I do, I think of my good friend Philomena. She would thank them and have a good cry as she did. Most who present for testing are women who want to protect their children and stay healthy for them. Many have had their houses burned, their spouses leave and their community shun them. If they survive, my hope is that they will lead a new generation that will speak out against the stigma.
The clinic ended early today. It is a long weekend in Lesotho in celebration of the King’s birthday. Most of the team has headed to Durban, SA for the weekend and gleefully left at 1pm. They left the green one from Guelph in charge. Imagine that. Two weeks in Lesotho and they leave me in charge of Tsepong. If I would have known this was to happen two weeks ago, I would never have gotten on that plane. A person can learn a lot in two weeks and become part of a community thousands of miles away.
On my way home, I think I relaxed for the first time. The dust covered streets of Leribe are always filled with people slowly and leisurely going about their business. They call out to each other, greet each other, and spend long moments talking to one another. The greeting between neighbors and friends takes precedence over any business of the day or any personal schedule. No one rushes and it is a cultural courtesy that you stop, greet and talk. I was told how to greet everyone that passes- the women with ‘Lumela (pronounced dumela) M’e', the men with ‘Lumela Ntate’, the children with ‘Lumela Abuti’ (boy) and ‘Lumela Ausi’ (girl). It is customary to greet everyone. There are hundreds of people on the street at any given time. The African’s greet everyone. For the first two weeks I greeted no one and kept my head down in a state somewhat akin to terror, after all, I am the only middle aged white women with strange fuzzy hair in this town and we all have the medias horrific images of the violent Africa in our heads. This afternoon, I held my head up and said hello in Sesotho to everyone. If I could be left in charge of Tsepong, I could handle engaging this strange culture and it’s people in the appropriate way despite being alone.
The result was amazing. It took me two and a half hours to finish my errands and walk home. I had some wonderful conversations with so many people, their broken English and my almost non-existent Sesotho. It was exhilarating and joyful. Two young women stopped me at one point and we chatted at length. They had watched me pass numerous times and seemed elated that this time I was interested in conversation. They were in their late teens and good friends. Of course I threw in the safe sex and condom talk at the end of our chat, ‘Go well (Tsamaea Hantle) and use condoms’. An appropriate line from the AIDS doctor don’t you think? They didn’t even flinch. ‘We are committed to practicing abstinence from sex and boyfriends’, they said. I punched the air and yelped my approval. In a country with a 40% prevalence rate of HIV, these are wise women.
Could it be that there is a movement starting in this generation in Africa, one which will transform and save the African culture? I certainly hope so and I would love to play a role in this transformation. Could it be that the women of Africa just might be able to rise up? Wouldn’t it be wonderful if they had an international organization that supported them, encouraged them and protected them? Stephen Lewis is right on the mark with respect to the discriminating effect this disease has on women and children and he is right about the need for the planet to officially support them.
The small town girl from Ontario who used to cling fearfully to her deep, deep Canadian roots wishes she didn’t have to go home. I think the culture shock has officially passed and in its place I have developed a great love for this country, this continent and most of all, its people. God is good!