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.