Being a Tourist

I’m over two months in to my year in South Africa and I had a visitor!

Chris flew down to visit his family and I got to sneak in a couple visits too!

I flew up to Durban and Chris and I drove up to Drakensburg to do some hiking. The temperature difference between King Williams Town and the Drakensburg area was incredible – went from rainy and cold to 29 degrees, sunny and humid.  The first day there was so hot we were ready to cool off after about an hour of hiking. We stopped at a creek and jumped in a pool, cooling off under a little waterfall. It was a gorgeous setting and we enjoyed lunch sunning on some rocks while we dried out. The walk back was really pretty, and I was busy thinking about the flowers, mountains, trees and chatting with Chris when off slithered a black snake! GAH! UH! Yeh!  I did a little snake dance and hoped along the trail to get away when another longer snake squiggled away from the center of the trail. AH! Noh! OH! ... this time I backed off and pushed Chris to the front! Chris got a kick out of my squimishness  as they were ‘just like gardener snakes’ back home. I grew up in the country and never saw a snake at home. I have been here for two months and have seen three, and they have all been close to my feet! I do not like snakes!

We drove up to Sodwana Bay to camp for a couple days with his family and chill at the ocean. The camp site was really nice with a gorgeous tree canopy full of curious little monkeys! Within ten minutes of being there they made off with one of Chris’ pineapples and earlier in the morning they had snuck away with the milk. Camping was great: Monkey watching, beach walking, snorkelling, card playing and best of all scuba diving.

Chris, Leola (his sister) and I took a discover scuba diving course and it was so great! We had a two hour lesson in the pool and the next day at eight we headed for the ocean. We all piled into the zodiac and zoomed off! The ride was great, the ocean was calm and the water so incredibly blue. We got to our destination two kilometres off land and our guides jumped in to secure the buoy and we began to gear up ... rocking to and fro, nicely floating on the water, rocking side to side... my stomach was churning, my face was getting pale, my mouth was going dry, I couldn’t concentrate on getting on my gear, I was going to be sick... “Leslee, look up!” Chris reminds me to look up... Right! okay, I start feeling a wee bit better and am able to gear up. Weight belt, vest with oxygen tank, goggles, flippers, check check check. The driver yells, “over on three. One two three” – over we go! We all flip backwards off the zodiac. I come up thinking, "wu-hoo I did it! This is so great!" and I look over to Chris to see him holding his head with a confused / mildly worried look on his face. His head is completely covered in blood, his hand is covered in blood and he’s saying something about 'wait a sec, I might need some help'... The waves are moving us all apart while the guides are yelling for us to swim up current to the buoy while another already has Chris in the boat. People are telling me, "you're super pale, are you alright?" Am I alright... yeah I think so... I still kinda want to throw up, my boyfriend is gushing blood from his head, the waves are bashing me and the spit in my goggles isn’t working as they are totally fogged... but yeah I’m good! Let’s go down! I was a little freaked at the top feeling like I couldn’t breathe but once I put my head under water – everything was calm – all was still and I could breathe. Down periscope. Swimming down the rope to the bottom was probably one of my favourite parts. It was amazing swimming down down down to the sandy bottom and being able to look around at all the fish, coral and fellow divers. Such a different world. At the bottom they gathered us all together until everyone was down and we had to kneel on the sand so that they didn’t lose us. "Okay, I can chill here no problem... Woh, woh! wait, don’t leave me alone. I think I’m having a hard time breathing, oh gosh, what if I get water in my goggles, oh – I’m having a hard time breathing, yup, I’m scared I can’t breathe!" A guide asked if I was okay and I did the ‘no, I’m having a small anxiety attack 15 meters under water’ reply and he came and got me settled down, making me look him in the eye and actually making me breathe... turns out I could breathe – I just didn’t like sitting still 15 meters under water - so off we swam. Mmmm, so nice! We swam up and over, around, and between the coral seeing purple, blue, yellow, orange, and pink fish. Striped fish, dotted fish, thin fish, and long fish. We also saw big schools of yellow fish, two long eels, and one lonely star fish. Then it was already time to go back up! Forty minutes under water felt more like twenty and I really wanted to explore more. Up we go! We swam up a ways and then had to stop for a couple minutes to let our self adjust, just nicely floating in the water, back and forth, swaying in the water, looking around, not much to see at this level, just swaying in the water... Hmm, I don’t feel so good. Can you throw up under water? How long do we have to stay here for? Seriously I am going to be sick! Thumbs up sign from the guide, ‘thank God!” Up I swam.  And then I threw up... yup, I sure did! Who knew you could get sea sick under water? Not me! That part was horrible, luckily I only had tea and a rusk for breakfast.  Off to land we zoomed and then up to the beach where we found Chris getting stitched up in the ambulance. Aww, poor guy! Turns out the man sitting beside Chris on the boat hesitated when we fell into the water, so when Chris was swimming up he fell in and cracked Chris on the head with his oxygen tank - giving Chris seven stitches. Ouch.

Chris was able to dive the next day and even came back with bragging rights after seeing two sea turtles that I had been talking about wanting to see.

Sodwana Bay was gorgeous, the weather was amazing, the beaches and sand dunes were stunning, and the company I kept was fantastic.     

   

  

Submission

There are two main things that I am disappointed in South Africa for:  #1 the garbage that lines the streets, and #2 the screeching lady that sings at church. Now really! I have travelled around the world, arrived in South Africa and I am expecting an amazing black choir with rhythm and soul that really uplifts the mass and my spirit. What do I get? The same screeching lady that I left behind in B.C.  Now, when my mom reads this she is going to be cringe, as she asked me not to write it... but after today.... there is just no way that I can let it slide. Come on Catholic church!!!! Why oh why do you have these middle aged ladies sucking the life out of the mass? They are singing far too high for anyone else to sing along and the songs are incredibly outdated and slow. I am in Africa! When I think of places where I could go and get uplifting - make you want to worship and bring you closer to God kind of music I think of Africa and probably Brazil or somewhere in Latin America.... but what do I get? A middle aged white lady singing hymns, and not toe tapping hymns. I get dry, lengthy hymns that have you confused about whether or not you should be sleeping or leaving... then I remember – I’m not here for the music – I am here for the word  of God – okay – I am now going to enter into a peaceful God centered time .... Then I think, “I wonder when she’s going to stop?” Okay, say some prayers.... “thank You that this woman is blessing us by leading worship because maybe no one else would”.... hmm, “maybe nobody would be better than this lady. I really enjoy it when everyone signs together with a guitar, no one leading with a microphone – just everyone singing”.... oh, I’m supposed to be praying... “please Lord make her stop!!!!” So here is my request: Catholic Church – stop the madness!!! I am currently in a country full of vibrant cultures! The black people here have inherent rhythm – I completely admit that white people for the most part do not – so get the white lady off the podium and let’s get an amazing black choir to lead us in worship!

The homily was really interesting at least. The priest read a letter from the Bishop talking about how there is a shortage of priests and religious in the diocese. This topic is interesting to me because the priest from my parish at home speaks on this subject quite often and it’s always amazing how similar things are even though you are all the way across the world. Worldwide families aren’t encouraging their children to go into the religious life. Why? I guess it’s because we are trained to want to be doctors, lawyers, carpenters, etc... so then we think what is so glamorous about being a priest? I think that it would be an honour to have my son become a priest, my son would be helping thousands of people to become closer to God (and he would have an amazing worship team!). It would be a little strange as I wouldn’t be getting grandchildren, and he would be the first in my family to enter the religious life – but it would be a blessing.  I have thought many times since being here that if my children are sexually active at 13 I will be sending them to the convent or monastery for the rest of their teenage life ... so the chances of me having a child enter the religious life seems quite high.... J

Although the music at church is bad my not having a vehicle is by far the greatest hurdle that I’m adjusting to. At home we are so incredibly independent. If we want to drive into town to buy chocolate chips for cookies, go hiking, or go watch a movie – I just do it. There is no planning, no strategising – I just do whatever I want whenever I want to do it. Here, I do not have a car. I live 20 minutes from the town where I work, and 60 minutes away from the beach – I can’t get there. There is a Saint Vincent de Paul group here that I would love to help at – I can’t get there. There is a feeding program for children with HIV, where they make children the only meal they get a day, which I would feel so honoured to volunteer at, and I can’t get there. There are clients whom I have tested positive that I would like to revisit and I can’t get there. You might be saying – well why don’t you take a taxi? There are no taxi’s that go from where I live and into King Williams Town. The taxi’s here are also 16 seater vans which zip here and there transporting people that I have been warned approximately 100 times to not take alone because I won’t be safe. I think I would be able to handle myself getting around King in a Taxi despite what people say, but I haven’t had enough free time to spend my day testing the taxi’s reliability... I guess taxis have a reputation of dropping you in areas you don’t know and driving away. Take a city bus? They don’t have city buses. In order to get from place to place people ‘hike’ as in hitch-hike. The main street in town is lined with people at the end of the work day trying to get home. Hitch hiking here includes a fee of about 7 rand to get me home, and of course I am only allowed to hike when I’m with my male roommates. I have hitchhiked and was a little disappointed at the normalcy of it – I was expecting something a little more exciting as it’s a little bit ‘taboo’ for a woman to hitchhike.... nope, not exciting at all.

 I have been having a very lengthy struggle with God about this transportation situation – he is telling me to submit and I am out right refusing. I am sure you have all heard the stories of people wanting to do all sorts of tasks for God and God responding that he simply wants them to sit and spend time with him... well I have a sneaking suspicion that that’s where I’m at, but at the moment I’m refusing to give in! Submission includes doing nothing on the weekend except for washing my laundry (by hand), sweeping my carpeted floor, and eating - and trusts me - I am eating far too much. Doesn’t He know that I am used to doing whatever I want – whenever I want to do it and that this is plain torture!? There are people I could be visiting, beaches I could be walking, water I could be surfing in and children I could be feeding! ...instead I am making cookies with the children that I live with (which includes eating a very large amount of cookie dough) and pretending that I have disappeared when they knock on my door every ten minutes... hmmm, my ’97 cavalier without air conditioning sounds so nice!

If anyone happens to know someone in South Africa that has an extra car they don’t need I know a very good organization testing people for HIV that could use it!!!! I also know a volunteer who could use it on the weekends in order to maintain her sanity. J  



Washing laundry with the kids is a pretty good time. It's amazing having six little hands reaching in and helping me 'scrub scrub scrub'. The boys always start by being super helpful and shortly after we have an impromtu water fight. After the water fight I then have to fight to keep my clothing from going straight into the rinse bin without being washed or from becoming a water bomb tool - but that's what adds to the fun.



Settling in

          I have begun noticing something when I go to the grocery store that I never noticed before... people staring at me and the black children that I am with. I haven’t noticed it until now, probably because I was more interested in finding the best substitute for soy sauce and trying to decide what 1-ply toilet paper would be the softest and most effective (some stores only sell 1-ply toilet paper...). Now that I have conquered my purchasing dilemma’s I am free to look around while at the grocery store – only to find that a lot of people are looking at me and the little guy who’s pushing my buggy. In one isle Khamo and I were deciding what potato masher was the best to buy when I turned around to see a couple and two guys other watching us. The man noticing me noticing them asked if Khamo was my son...It was so bizarre! I am whiter than white and Khamo is really black.... how could he be my son?! I guess if I had adopted him... I so badly wish I had said, ‘yes,’ simply to see his reaction! Then walking down the isle with Thalita one lady actually stopped her and gave her this look like, ‘what are you doing with that lady?’ I ignored it thinking it was strange but not a big deal, unfortunately Thalita was completely confused about it and asked me why people were staring at us.... I don’t really know actually because it’s not as if I’m the only white person around. I guess I am just the first white person in a while to be in the grocery store shopping with black children.

           Remember when I wrote about the gentlemen that we tried getting to the hospital because he was diagnosed with Tb and was known to be HIV positive? Well here is a little update: We drove him to the clinic and he wasn’t able to get to the hospital that day as there weren’t any beds available so he went the next day. When someone is HIV positive and quite sick many are kept in the TB hospital for six months. They can be let out early as long as they are positive that they will be able to maintain their TB medications while at home. In this case, my client defaulted his HIV treatment once before so he will be in the TB hospital for nine months. Can you imagine nine months in a hospital?!  Here is a before and after picture for you. My client was resting on the couch and Zola, a counselor, was talking with him.

I was so incredibly shocked when we saw him in the hospital. He was honestly glowing. When he smiled I teared up a little because he was so vibrant. When we walked in he went straight for my hand and thanked me repeatedly for taking him to the clinic because he didn’t think that he would have gotten there otherwise.... Thank you to all you at home for helping me get here to meet such an amazing soul and in helping him get the treatment that has saved his life. I honestly thought he was palliative, but now he is chatting and smiling!

Adventures come in three's

Today at work we started off in a couple homes and then went into a shebeen, as shebeens are often located in homes on residentail streets. The shebeen wasn’t ‘open’ but men were sitting outside drinking and the owner opened up for us to test a couple of the men. The first man I tested was in his 20’s, spoke English, and was really receptive and interested in what we were up to. Men and women like that make my day! I really enjoyed talking with him about his life, schooling and of course his risk for HIV. The next man was super keen as well; unfortunately I didn’t realize he was keen because he had been drinking until after about five minutes when he started trying to hold my hand and silly things like that. He could speak broken English, but not well enough for me to gauge his intoxication level so I called in a counsellor to help me out. She chatted with him and decided that he was just flirty and said that he was fine to test. I should have listened to my intuition. While we were waiting for his test result I saw him fidgeting and looking at the alcohol cleanser that I use for clients. Thinking about how patients were occasionally caught drinking the hand sanitizer back home I moved my alcohol cleanser beside me on my bench and continued talking to him about STI’s. He still wasn’t able to sit still and began fidgeting with items on the table. I was busy trying to move items away so he would listen when he sneakily tried to take the dilutant that we use for testing. I asked for it back thinking that he was simply being cheeky and he coyly shooshed me thinking I might let it slide. I didn't let it go, and when he wouldn’t return it I called in a counsellor for help. The client then stood up and hid it behind his back while she was asking him to give it back. The mood began to change from him being funny and goofing off and I could see him start to get ansy.  Suddenly he ripped off the cap and started drinking the dilutant! He was drinking it as if it was a drug and he desperately needed to get a fix before he was caught. Now, the dilutant is in a tiny tiny bottle that only lets out a drop at a time. So here he was, backed up against the wall trying his hardest to drink the dilutant. I was sitting across from him a little dumb founded. And the counsellor reached over and snatched it out of his hands. The client proceeded to tell us all sorts of things that I didn’t understand, and all I kept thinking was, “if I get stabbed in a shebeen Chris is never going to let me live it down!” I quickly started gathering my gear not knowing what he was going to do next as he was looking pretty erratic. He then kind of schlumped down onto his bench, turned to me looking utterly beaten down and asked, “but could you give me two rands?”

I later learned that people can make a drug out of ARV medications. So when people are diagnosed with HIV, others ask for their medication and make drugs out of it. This system not only leaves the person with HIV at a high risk of getting sick, but also puts risky drugs on the street. The other counsellors thought that this man might have come hoping that something we were using could give him a similar 'high' as we were talking about HIV. It is so incredibly unfortunate that people can be so desperate for alcohol that they will drink hand sanitizer, or in this case go for a bottle of dilutant that is probably made of saline.... salty water. I’m not going to get into the social and financial background that contributes to this man’s addictions in this blog, I am simply sharing my day. As we all know, unfortunately, alcoholism is a common ground that bridges cultures.  

An older gentleman had come into the shebeen looking for us so once we left the shebeen we walked with him to his home. He wove us in and out between the shacks until we finally came to his home. He was a cute little man built a little bit like Santa clause and I immediately liked him. As I went about testing him we sat and chatted. I was relieved after the fiasco we had just had in the shebeen to be simply testing someone and chatting when I glanced over at his test to see if it was done... two lines. Oh man. This gentleman is HIV positive. (At this moment I was so thankful for my training and previous work experience in difficult situations). I took a breath and explained to him that when a test shows two lines it means that a person has HIV, so he was HIV positive. He then turned to my counsellor so she could explain it to him in Xhosa and then he just kind of nodded and walked us back into his home and sat down. It turned out that his wife passed away from AIDS three months ago. He handled the news really well as he’s had time to prepare himself. I on the other hand kept checking and rechecking the test to make sure that there really were two lines.... there were. He was definitely HIV positive. I referred him to the closest clinic and will follow up with him on Friday to see how he’s doing.

I have been asking and asking when the sun and heat were going to show up as I have been freezing and today it came with gusto. People all over the place were walking around under umbrellas and staying inside sheltering themselves from the sun and there I was sweating my butt off with my jeans rolled up to my knees sitting out in the open soaking up the sun.... hey! I need a tan! Everyone gets huge kick out of it when I say that, ‘I’m too white,’ they then say, “yes, yes you are!”

So there’s my day: an adventure in a shebeen, my first HIV positive client, and some sun.... pretty well rounded I guess. J Now, please don’t think that all of my days are this action packed. On other days I am quite content walking house to house chatting with people and having only HIV negative test results. On days that I’m not testing people I am working in the office. I have to work in the office because I know how to use a computer, haha....  I kinda wish I didn’t know how to type an e-mail so that I could be in the field all the time!  

I love a good tourist trap

Do you ever stop at crazy tourist traps? Well I sure do!

My favourite so far has been the gopher museum that I dragged my girlfriends into one year driving to Edmonton. Picture stuffed gophers dressed in costumes riding motorbikes or working in a hair salon and you’ll have a pretty good idea of what we were treated to J

The other day as we were driving to Bathurst I came across the ‘biggest pineapple’. And it really is BIG! I got such a kick out of it, and since I’m the newly designated driver - in we went! Once inside you could buy just about anything you might want to do with pineapples, I sampled some pineapple chutney, pineapple fruit snack and bought some postcards (which some very lucky people will be treated to!).

Here I am with Zola, a counseller, and 'Ma' the nurse I live with.

My Day

I wake up around 0630 with the sun already beating in through the windows and wish that God would turn out the lights for another half an hour until my clock tells me to get up. I have a bowl of granola and sip a mocha while sitting on my front step soaking up the sun. I head to ‘the field’ with the nurse I live with. My work field is based in the second largest township in South Africa, Mdantsane.  Mdantsane has a population of  ~175,000. The houses range from tin sheeting ‘shacks’, as they’re called here, to nice homes with bricked drive ways and indoor plumbing. My team gathers at a central meeting place and start going door to door talking to people about HIV and testing those who wish to be tested.

I work within a team of six people, two nurses and four counsellors. We educate on HIV, TB and STI’s, test people for HIV and refer people to clinics if needed for further treatment. My first day on the job testing people I was so surprised by the lancets that we use here! In Canada it’s a nice spring loaded, plastic enclosed object that discreetly pricks your finger for blood – nothing scary on the outside. Here, well, it’s not discreet, it’s a sharp stainless steel object that we jab into your finger to make you bleed. When they showed it to me on day one I actually shrank back, like woah - what are you doing with the weapon! Now, I don’t think twice about it - it gets the job done. I prick their finger, get a drop of blood, place it into the HIV test kit, and 5-10 minutes later we have their result. So far no one that I have tested has been positive and every time I test someone I say a little prayer hoping that I never see two lines. One line = negative, two lines = positive.

We never know how the day is going to go, my last day we stopped on the street as a group of about 20 men were trying to corral a bull. I simply stated, “look at all the men and the bull.” The women I work with said, “yeah, it’s tradition, probably for a feast tomorrow.” “They’re going to kill it? Right there!?” I naively question. Yup, they sure were – right there in a front yard on a residential street - and there is absolutely nothing unusual about it! I watched them get the bull into a lying position by lassoing it, and once that action was done... I got scared of what was to come for the poor bull and ran into a house and started work. I am half wide-eyed tourist, half volunteer nurse. Luckily for us once the men were finished getting the bull set up they were keen to test.  

Welcome to public health care

           The past weekend I was in Bathurst, a small community about two hours from where I live. We go door to door talking with and educating people about HIV, and if they would like myself and another nurse test those who choose. We met a man in his home who was diagnosed with HIV last year and who is suspected to have TB. It was immediately obvious that this man needed to be in the hospital. He was thin, dehydrated, and weak.  We went to the local clinic to see what assistance we could provide to this man, not being from around here, we thought the clinic was the best place to source out information. Walking into the clinic, there was barely standing room available. Young women to old women packed the little clinic and there were no signs of a friendly person to ask a question. My manager simply walked past everyone and down the hall looking for the In-Charge (I don’t know if this was because this is a normal thing to do here or if he’s just that balsy).

                The IC reported that “yes, they knew about this client as they had received confirmation that he was positive for TB that day and were  planning on sending for an ambulance tomorrow”. Wonderful! We left the clinic feeling he was in good hands and would be cared for.

 Day two.

                 On our way into the field we randomly stopped at a social support office to see what services they provided and to introduce ourselves as future partners. We realized that we could offer this man’s family food hampers to assist them as funds are tight. We headed to his house to get further info and met his son on his way to the clinic to see what time the ambulance was coming. We drove the son to the clinic where the nurses told him that he would have to bring his dad to the clinic in order for them to call an ambulance. HOLD UP! I am standing beside our car when they tell me this news – and here is my train my thought: They want us to take this frail, thin, sick, palliative man out of his house and bring him to the clinic!? WHY! WHAT! They want us to bring this man to the clinic! You mean the man curled up in the fetal position on his couch under his massive comforter! Can he even walk?! They want us bring this man to the clinic – the man they just informed us is positive for TB!?! WHY! Do they know how TB spreads? Do they want everyone in the clinic to have TB? Okay, so to confirm.... they want me, since I am the only one with a licence and a car, to go pick up this 80 pound man from his comfortable couch so he can lie on a cold stretcher. Uh huh. I thought that’s what you had said.

                What would have happened if we hadn’t decided to pop by? How would he have gotten to the clinic, and were they just going to leave him at home until he miraculously arrived? Did they want him to walk?

                We drove back to his house. His family was gathered around to help us help him to the car. I stood at the doorway feeling utterly helpless as his son coaxed him off the couch, helped him with his shoes, and helped him stand. He stood next to his son a frame of a man, so unbelievably thin. Taking a step forward his pants slipped down around his hips – I jumped forward as the nurse in me kicked in to help him with his pants, and then just as suddenly caught myself not knowing how my helping with his pants would be taken in this situation. This man and his family do not know me as a care taker – they know me as a women who came in asking about HIV and TB. His son caught his pants as we noticed them slipping at the same time, and cinched his belt in farther. I honestly don’t think his belt could go any further. Having to pee before we left, they used a bucket in the lounge. My mind was reeling with everything that I was seeing and learning. This man, didn’t even have a urinal?! Can you imagine us giving a patient in Canada a bucket to pee in! They would just stare at us like we had lost our mind! But here, in this setting, where this man doesn’t have a light bulb in his one light, where his flooring is cracked and worn, where the window into his bedroom is broken.... using a bucket as a urinal just seemed normal.

                So, into my car we go, (I hope all of the disease control officials out there aren’t reading this!) and yes, of course I rolled down the windows! We drove up to the clinic and helped him into a room. His son helped him up onto the assessment stretcher and then backed away as the nurses walked in. The nurses walked in and immediately started talking to my manager as they got an IV set up ready.  I was watching my client as he struggled to get comfortable as there were no pillows or blanket nearby to help. I noticed his packsack that his son had brought and searched through it finding a coat. I rolled it up and placed it behind his back so that he could lean against it and take a load off. As I finished getting him ‘comfortable’ my manager told me it was time to leave. Leave?! What do you mean?!  He wanted to leave so as not to step on the nurses’ toes. I wanted to say, “but who’s going to take care of him?” The nurses had walked into the room and started working without even acknowledging him. They didn’t say, “hello”, there was no, “how are you feeling?” no, “are you comfortable? do you have any pain?” There was no acknowledgement at all that he or his son, were even in the room. I couldn’t believe it.  I didn’t want to leave him with nurses who didn’t even know he was there.   

                 ... I got in the car completely baffled. I kept repeating over and over about how it’s human nature to say hello! To ask how people how they are! If you see someone who needs help, you want to help, you feel something! The women I left him with hadn’t even said, ‘hello’ to him??? I was also thinking about his son,  that man’s dad was most likely dying and they didn’t say hello to him either, didn’t acknowledge his presence, didn’t ask him how he was coping. ...I drove away feeling so confused and so helpless. I know I can’t be thinking, “at home we would do this,” the entire time I’m here. But driving away thinking about how all of us would swoop in, getting him comfortable: give him water, a warm blanket, prop him with pillows, offer his family support - where was the extra care here? Are the nurses here so desensitized to this man’s condition that it no longer registers with them?  Were they upset with us barging in, disrupting their day and insisting that they care for this man, that they were ‘out of sorts’ and didn’t provide the comprehensive care that they normally would? Or is this just the way it’s done here?

             The first three hours of that day were enough to fill an entire day.    

Sponsor a day in South Africa

As many of you know, while volunteering I am trying to raise $5000. I'm hoping you'll consider donating $10 to help me reach my goal (and maybe even pass it!) by sponsoring a day on my fundraising calendar.

Here's how it works:
1. At the bottom of my blog page there is a calendar.
2. Pick a day of the year that you would like to sponsor me (I will be here until September 2011)
3. Add a comment on my blog or send me a note (lkranrod@hotmail.com) telling me which day you would like to sponsor 
4. Go to http://support.cmmb.org/goto/lesleek  to donate online
5. Please note that the website is in the US and will convert your amount into US dollars.... so ten dollars might turn into 11 on your Visa bill.
6. you're done, Thank - you!!

All the money that you donate goes to keeping me here and funding the HIV testing that I'm able to do!

Thank you to everyone who has already been so SUPER generous, I have been really overwhelmed by everyone's generosity!!

Thank you for reading my blog!

Are those heads?!

I was driving to East London with a couple flat mates a week ago when suddenly I whip my head back around and say, “are those goat heads?!” Thabo nonchalantly states that, “no, they're sheep heads.”... Picture a South African women standing on the side of the road with a sheet of plywood in front of her, on the red dusty earth, covered with sheep heads. Nothing else around, no freezer truck maintaining health board regulations, no ice around them to keep them chilled, no sneeze guard like you’d see at a buffet.... just heads on the side of a hwy. Thabo then said, quite sincerely, “they are really good, should we get one on the way home?” .... let’s give that about 6 months shall we?!

         The sheep head story basically summarizes my first week in King Williams Town. I am constantly amazed by what I’m seeing, often shrinking into a little ball in the front seat of the car as people swarm around the car selling wares, walking, talking or driving without any respect for the rules of the road. The towns are full of people everywhere. Vendors are set up along the sides of the street selling oranges, carrots, potatoes, shoes, watches, belts and other basic wares that you may have a need for. The taxi drivers, which are men driving 16 seater vans, rule the road zipping in and out whenever they please, while getting quite irate with people like me following the rules. My second day driving here, I was with a colleague, driving her car, and she thought I should see downtown. I was driving so slow, just putt-putting along the road terrified that I was going to hit a pedestrian. It’s normal here for people to be walking amidst traffic, just walking down the dotted line trying to sell you freezies or cell phone chargers (I don't know why you would choose to buy your cell phone charger at the red light , but I guess it might be convenient for some...). Meanwhile I’m driving and laughing out loud / muttering to myself about how crazy this is! Aren’t these people worried I’ll hit them? This would never happen in Canada! Where are all these people going?! Where are all these people coming from? Why are all these people here?! Then, I see a crosswalk with people walking.... so I stop for them. Picture any movie you have seen that includes a crosswalk in New York and put me in a car in the middle of that crosswalk surrounded by South Africans... Never stop at a cross walk in South Africa unless there is a robot (stop light) telling you to. My car was immediately surrounded by people crossing this way and that... some even just standing there thankful for the extra space, some just stopped where they were and looked at me – I’m sure they were thinking, ‘I wonder why that crazy lady stopped?’ I stopped because it’s a crosswalk and people wanted to cross! My car was completely surrounded and I just started laughing. The people I was driving weren’t as impressed, I’m sure they thought we would never get moving again because the flow of people showed no signs of stopping! I got us moving again, slowly eking forward trying not to hit anyone and subliminally trying to convince people to let me pass... silly foreign white girl.     

            South Africa has been very good to me so far. I have arrived at the house where I’ll be staying. There is a main house and six flats, I have a flat and the others are occupied by people my age who work in the area.  Everyone has been super welcoming, especially the three kids who live in the main house. At any point that my door is open one of the two boys are whipping through the door and scooping up something that I left lying around. The boys’ main target is my photo album. Over and over and over they point at my family and friends and state, “Aunt Lezee, dis?” and I state my families’ names over and over and over. It’s nice to have walked into an already formed family unit.

Work has already proven interesting. On my first day out testing people the group I was with said, “hi, nice to meet you, are you ready? Okay let’s go, we are off to a shebeen (pub).” We walked into the shebeen and I immediately drew a crowd. Shebeens open at 0800, so by the time we got there at 1100 (when we normally arrive at 0900) most people were intoxicated and super chatty. One man playing pool actually missed his ball while watching me cross, shouting, “you must not be from around here!” with a huge grin on his face.  Another gentlemen came up to explain that my being white and in that particular shebeen was a big deal, as white people usually (as in almost never) don’t go there.  When we got in and realized that most people were intoxicated we decided to leave, but not before a man came up asking me where I was from and what was I doing there. When he heard I was volunteering he asked if I was a missionary. I laughed and replied that, ‘no I didn’t think of myself like that. ” “oh, well then are you a nun?”  “Haha, nope, I’m not a nun.” He was stumped by the fact that I was a volunteer from Canada and not a nun J. He went on to thank me for coming to help and told me sincerely about how his family had been hit hard by HIV. He requested to be tested, as it had been while, (being tested for HIV here is scary business as the chances of being positive are so high, so people put it off) and told me about his uncle who is palliative with AIDS and asked if I could please go visit him, I wasn’t able to get too much info about his uncle – due to ‘shebeen type’ distractions...but at least you have a picture of what the first hour, of my first day on the job was like.

Am I ready for this?

I am sitting here in the JFK airport chatting with Chris when he mentions his plans for the upcoming week and it hits me: I am moving to South Africa for a year - A YEAR! I don't get to hang out with him and Birke and Gary... for a whole year! The thought, "what the heck am I moving to South Africa for?" suddenly hits me with such force that I automatically think, "yes, this is crazy! I want to be home and be with my mom, Jamie, Cole and Chris! Why am I headed off to a country where I don't know anyone when things are going really great at home?"
           Luckily, for my lifetime dream's survival, I am already in New York; even if I wanted to pull a dramatic movie escape and run home I can't... Why is it that when I am sitting in the airport headed to South Africa I finally realize what I am up to? I realize that I have left my job, sold my car, packed my stuff, said good-bye to loved ones, and am now sitting in JFK. Was it self preservation in the form of denial that kept me thinking that moving to South Africa was 'no big deal'?
           During orientation they thanked us a couple times for, "giving up a year of our life," and I just thought, "I'm not giving up a year of my life, I am moving somewhere amazing - I am going to be 'living it up' in Africa for a year having an amazing adventure!" But now.... hmmm, I seem to be leaving a pretty awesome life behind without actaully realizing I was doing it... I guess that's the best way to go about it though, not really understanding it until it's too late to get cold feet.
          I am still getting on the plane - it just would have been nice if I weren't suddenly dreading it.   :)

Orientation in New York was really inspiring! We stayed at a gorgeous retreat center, had guest speakers come in and we also went to Manhattan one day to visit the CMMB headquartes. One of my favourite parts was visiting the UN. I wouldn't have planned the UN as a stop on a NY adventure but was really intrigued by and completely enjoyed the entire tour. At the end all I wanted to do was hang out and pick people's brains (and by this I mean world leaders...because that's who sits in those seats) about the UNAIDS program and about their 'End extreme poverty and Hunger" goals for 2015. Think about it - extreme poverty over by 2015!! Visit the UN website to learn more http://www.un.org/millenniumgoals/poverty.shtml it's super interesting and will make you feel like you can make a difference - because we can!
         During orientation we had a couple amazing speakers who have had the exact life that I have always thought about: working for the UN, working for UNICEF, volunteering in disaster torn areas, volunteering in area's of great need and teaching about international matters. I soaked up every word that one of speakers said, hoping for more and then simply wanted to ask, "so how do I get your life?" My fellow volunteers were all amazing people and I can't wait to hear all their stories, some of the places they are going are: Peru, Honduras, Sudan, Kenya and Ghana. It was great going to orientation and being able to sit and chat with the other volunteers about their fears and things that they are nervous about, and also what should be packed...

 More to come in a couple days when I find out more about what I'll be up to!

Here's an awesome website that helps you feed the hungry without having to donate money or leave your computer. Go to http://www.freerice.com/ and answer a couple of the vocab questions. For every answer you get right 10 grains of rice is donated to help feed the hungry. Try it for ten minutes and you just fed someone a meal they probably wouldn't have recived. Do it everyday - it's free and doesn't take anytime at all. :)

Time..... where did it go?

Here is blog #1 in what will hopefully be a highly blogged about year in South Africa with me (Leslee) setting out on an adventure that I've talked about, dreamed about and planned for years. In four days (yes four!) I am hopping on a plane with my mom headed for New York! and after New York I am flying to South Africa! Why am I, a single 27 year old nurse going to South Africa for a year? Glad you asked! I have joined Catholic Medical Missions (CMMB) and am headed to South Africa to test people for HIV and carry out a HIV study in King Williams town. Have I been to Africa? No. Do I speak Afrikaans? Nope. Do I know what to expect once I get there? Not a clue - but I guess not knowing adds to the adventure!

On September 9th my mom and I are headed to New York prior to my Catholic Medical Mission orientation that begins on the 13th. Mom and I are planning on being super tourists which will include riding a red tour bus, taking a ferry around the statue of Liberty and seeing the Lion King - YAH! From September 13-17 I will be taking part in orientation - what will we be learning?! I have no clue but I am sure I will be soaking up everything they teach! Items I assume they will be covering will be: how to not get malaria, how to be culturally sensitive, and that I will be driving on the left hand side of the road. When I get to South Africa I will be living with a women who was also a nurse and is now volunteering with the Doctor that I will be working with (Dr. Malebo)- so I'll have my very own insider to help me adapt!

As of now I am trying to decide what I still need to do in order to prepare. I have received my immunizations. I have my passport with me. I have registered with the Canadian Government telling them I'm off to SA. I have purchased super duty bug spray. Yet, the nagging question still remains: what does a person pack when they are headed to Africa for a year? Do I bring a suitcase full of sandals because it's warm or do I only bring hiking boots because I am afraid of spiders, ants, centipedes and snakes.... or do I bring a collection of the two even though I am trying to only carry one suitcase (a collection of the two equals about 6 pairs of shoes :) hehe). One suitcase for 1 year - oh my!


If you have any hints, tips, or tricks pls fill me in!