Day Thirteen and Fourteen (July 15, 2006)

OH AFRICA! You are so beautiful on a sunny Saturday morning in July!

OK, I admit it. I am competitive and I am in direct competition with my son, although he remains aloof and uncommitted about the whole thing. I will have better African experiences than him and I will learn more of the language than he does in the short time we are here. Nothing wrong with a little healthy competition between mother and son, right?

You can imagine how disappointed and offended I was when I overheard a conversation he was having with Rosemary at the clinic. It was staged to occur at the precise moment I walked by. What use is a healthy competition unless everyone knows about it. Quite charming with each other they were. ‘U phela jaong, Adam?’, she says sweetly (How are you?). He replies with just a hint of pride and ego, ‘Ke phela hantle’ (I am well thank you). I stopped, stunned and frozen in my tracks. ‘ Who taught him that?’ I asked, outraged, and……what exactly does it mean?

I was even more offended and, yes even a little hurt, when he declined attending church with me today and went cycling instead with Russell in South Africa. Who chooses cycling in South Africa over church and so what if they saw eight, not one, not two but eight Zebras at the side of the road? Russell can just keep that picture he took of my son in front of those Zebras.

I didn’t just attend one church service today but two and each were 2 1/2 hours long. Now that is an African experience. The first was amazing! Most of it is on film. I had the privilege of introducing myself in both services and telling a short version of the Masai story and our goal of raising one million for Tsepong. I know a lot of people are praying for this project and my time here and I am grateful. Imagine how I felt when two entire African congregations surrounded me and prayed fervently for what we are doing. The pastor at the first service was from Zambia. Both services were beautiful with praising and singing that were stunning. These people know how to give it up for God. There is not a single cell in their bodies that doesn’t dance, and the singing….Wow. No one eats, there is no washroom to use and five hours later they are still at it.

By the end of both, I was just a little fatigued and snuck out to play with the kids. They sit outside as there is not enough room inside. There are adults supervising them. They sit so still and so quietly. I sat still and quiet….for awhile. Than I started to wink. It took about 10 minutes of pretty persistent winking before they all moved a little closer and joined in. One little girl took me up on the invitation right away. I winked, she winked. I winked with the other eye, she winked with the other eye and so on. Before I knew it they were all winking and laughing, until the supervisor saw us. I am sure Adolph is an African name and this women was christened with it. She scolded me, ‘M’e, do you not want to listen to my pastor?’ she said. ‘I love your pastor!’ I said, and I do. I will never forget him. ‘But I just want to play with the kids.’ She was pretty insistent and in the end, she won. I had a grade two teacher named Miss Crabapple that was just like her.

For awhile today, I forgot why I am here. It is so easy to get lost in this simple, captivating culture and it’s beautiful people. At the end, as we were leaving, a woman came up to me and handed me her health record. This is called a ‘Bukana’. Everyone carries one. It is the only way to keep track of what little healthcare they receive. There is no information system and no way of sharing information. Most people are without telephones let alone fax machines and computers. This woman was tall and lovely as many of the Besotho women are. If only model scouts could make there way to Lesotho. She was too skinny and that is a tell tale sign. Her CD4 has just been done at a rural clinic. They can tell her she has HIV and tell her that she will soon become very sick, but they cannot provide her with any treatment. ‘Would you help me?’ she said. The only day she could get a ride was on Tuesday. Tuesday is children’s day and she knows it is against the rules for her to come on that day. I have been known to break rules before.

Imagine being in a church congregation, a classroom, an office or just on the street. One third of the people you see are HIV infected, trying to continue to live life, still singing and worshiping. Most don’t have the cab fare to travel to Tsepong. We see just a fragment of a huge district. Satellite clinics that prescribe ARV’s are so desperately needed.