28 February 2010

overdue pictures

After writing two heavy blogs I figured I would add something a bit lighter. These pictures just need to be on here. The first is the four of us girls and Brian Strassburger a former AV (in the Bronx and then South Africa)

The first two pictures are from right before the filming of our TV debut. Brian and Fr. Tony from the Augustinian Missions Office were accompanied by a crew from the beloved PBS. They where here filming for a documentary program called Visionaries which profiles non profit organizations. Part of the segment will feature the work that the Augustinians do in Philly and then what they do over here and of course what the glorious Augustinian Volunteers do.

They filmed the girls teaching at St. Leos, the four of us playing with the children at St. Theresas, Baba Benji and I delivering food parcels in the valley and then they interviewed the five of us. Don’t worry I’ll sign autographs

The third are my boys at St. Theresas who always always always bring a smile to my face. Please note I’m getting a piggy back from a munchkin

The fourth is a picture of our FRIENDS!! Taken at Sineads birthday. Clearly we wear teaching them flip cup. We are going to the Drakensberg with the boys this weekend to do some hiking and just relax which I couldn’t be more excited about!

Life here is hard, but there are many things and many people that make me smile









25 February 2010

Marbles

Now whenever I see a fish being drawn in the dirt (symbolizing the start of a game) I inevitably find a small hand in mine presenting me with a few of their marbles to play with. Every single time I choke back tears.

Tuesday, Spiho, a 9 year old told me to call him “Coach”. When I asked why he explained matter of factly that he was sick of watching me loose and was going to teach me to be good at marbles. Throughout the game I complimented him on his form, his guidance, patience and direction.

At the end of the game (which I won, although I’m pretty sure Hinal and Shaldon let me win) I gave Sphio a hug. As I was in the process of thanking him he opened up my hand, looked me in the eyes and said “a pretty one to start your collection”. I looked down and saw a clear marble, speckled with orange dots.

Although I insisted he take it back he wouldn’t. It was then that I recognized just how much these boys are teaching me about life and love and most importantly sacrifice. My St. Theresa boys provide me with more friendship and self assurance then I often feel like I am bestowing upon them and I am forever grateful.

In the United States a marble is so ordinary and inexpensive. Here they are prized possessions. And to me, my orange speckled marble is not only the start of my collection, but it will symbolize friendship and be forever priceless.

19 February 2010

A bit of home

As I mentioned in a brief earlier post we are out of internet for the month. How this could happen considering we are only mid way through February astounds me as much as I’m sure it astounds you. I have very limited knowledge as to how and why the internet in South Africa is so restricted, but it basically boils down to a science: Each household is allotted 3 gigs of bandwidth, once that is used your out of luck. And ironically out of communication with the rest of the world.

It has been challenging and a bit refreshing living without the internet this week. So many things both good and bad have happened and I just wanted to talk to someone about them…

-The children at 1000 Hills memorized “the moose song” and all I wanted to do was call all my Daybreak friends.
-I had a dream about the 35 year old Asian man who liked feet and all I wanted to do was call Meg Scheld and rehash our Sophomore year.
-My boss yelled at me for the first time and all I wanted was consolation from the Moreau’s, from the staff at Siena and all of the higher ups on the third floor at M.C. I wanted to hear that although I was frustrated with work I was a good employee and staff member.
-I saw a young boy, maybe five, get hit by a van. It was the bloodiest mess I have ever seen. All I wanted to do was call my family and cry.
-It was Sineads birthday and all I wanted to do was provide her with a way to get in contact with family and friends.
I wanted so badly to log into skype, put on that very sexy headset and call someone. Instead I felt more out of touch with my life back home then I ever have, but my friends this story has a happy ending.

Tuesday while at the Respite I was asked to show a group of American volunteers around. They told me there were all from the North East and to my surprise one of them was from Vermont. I asked where half expecting it to be some dinky town I had never heard of. He said Williston and I choked on the water I was drinking. Williston, like the town where I lived with Nana, like right near South Burlington, like he went to CVU?

We talked about who we knew, how we were connected and about everything glorious Vermont had to offer. Sam, who was cute as a button and also 17 (so no G, I didn’t get his number, but rather his last name because facebooking him isn’t half as bad) became my new best friend. He rejuvenated my spirit and put a different spin on my week.

As for comforts from home, second in line, but just as important is the one and only Fr. Bob Terranova from the Bronx who arrived in South Africa this afternoon.

Despite my laziness for blogging last year while volunteering in New York City, my year was outstanding. It was full of fruitful experiences and friendships. Besides my darling roommates, whom I miss very much, I was also very close with the four priests that lived next door; Fr. Bob being one of them. The men quickly transitioned from being the priests next door into our very good friends.

Fr. Bob is discerning joining the community of Augustinians living in South Africa and will be staying here for a whole month! Although he is currently napping and I have yet to see him, I could not be more pleased to have him here for the next month!

Last piece of home: We just got the final word that PBS, yes the station that the beloved “Zoom” was on will be arriving in South Africa the first week in March. They produce a show “Visionaries” and will be doing an episode on the work the Augustinians do, and thus the work the Augustinian Volunteers (yeeeeeee) do. I have already picked out my outfit and tried out hair styles for the debut. Just kidding, but I couldn’t be happier!

I got interviewed on live TV on ABC last year and this year PBS. If I do say so myself, this volunteer career of mine is really taking me places.

Dream a little dream


In an effort to bring about additional awareness to the HIV/AIDS epidemic and to encourage dreaming among the masses, members of the KwaZulu Natal community have come together to work on a very special project. “The Dream Chair” as they so fondly refer to it has been a creation in the works for the last 2+ months and I was there to witness the beauty on opening day.

Under the creative eye of Paula, a staff member and in conjunction with the Woza Moya (“Come Spirit”) Shop which is a complementary project tightly associated with the Hillcrest AIDS Respite Center the chair came to life. Thirty women spent countless hours using beads to express hopes, dreams, frustrations, fears and the challenges that HIV/AIDS has presented to them, their families and their community.

The chair will be “sold” to large corporations in the greater Durban area for a month at a time. Along with it the company will receive their own personalized business cards and postcards as a thank you for donating to the project. Businessmen and women, patrons and family members will have an opportunity to visit the chair at each location and take a picture sitting in it. The pictures can be uploaded to the website www.dreamsforafrica.com along with each individual’s dreams. The final destination of the chair is unknown, but there are high hopes that celebrities will take their turn and that one day Nelson Mandela himself will sit in the seat and share his dreams with the community

The chair is the most elaborate, delicate and stunning piece of art work I have ever seen. It is covered from top to bottom with endless colors of beads in all sorts of formations. Some beads spell out words both in English and Zulu, “RECONCILIATION”, “ININGIZIM AFRICA”, “STRENGTH”, “FREEDOM” “DIVIRSITY”, “RESPONSIBILITY” and “PEACE”. Intricate formations were made out of traditional patterns and colors and other beads form the shape of sacred animals, mountains and people. The chair is accompanied by two wings on either side; each in the shape of the continent of Africa.

All of the beads together echo the voices of the community. A shared commitment to the support of all peoples. A hope for strength and endurance. A promise of love.

Yesterday the chair moved throughout the Hillcrest complex; making stops in the horticulture department, publication department, bead shop, second hand shop, feeding scheme and finally making its way down the dusty road to the Respite Unit. The chair in all of its splendour was placed amid the beds and staff members and patients alike were encouraged sit in the chair and share their dream.

Staff members scrambled at the chance to be photographed by a professional while having their turn in the chair. And then slowly one by one patients began to take interest. I have never seen such a profound sight – those who typically can’t walk without help seemed to be running – those who can’t talk were spouting paragraphs. The dreams of the patients were some of the most touching sentiments I have ever heard.

“To make it to my 25th birthday in a few months”
“To get well so I can see my son grow up”
“To get strong so I can teach others how to fight AIDS”
“For others to learn to love me even though I am infected”

As I took my turn sitting in the chair I felt so connected; connected to those who made this chair a reality; to those who had sat in it and those will sit in it; and connected in a deeper sense to Africans. There were smiles and tears as everyone talked about who they hoped would sit in it. Color of skin, male, female, religion, negative, positive, infected or affected….it didn’t matter, all that mattered was that the dream of the chair was made into a reality.

My goal as you’ll soon be able to read on the website was “that all individuals would have the ability to recognize their own, and all others God given potential and that everyone would be able to love without boundaries”

10111

Hold your right hand up. Go ahead, do it! Press your pointer finger into the top joint of your thumb making the sign for “O.K”. You have just learned how to call the police in South Africa.

“If you are not ‘o.k.’ call 1(the thumb) 0 (the pointer and the thumb) 111 (the last three fingers)”

With 1000 Hills comes 1000 Valleys


Bothas Hill where we live sits on top of a mountain that is part of the 1000 Hills Experience. We are surrounded by countless mountains with outstanding views that more often then not make me forget about the valleys below. I have driven through the valley a bit to get to the Zulu Mass or to pick a patient up, but I have not really had time to stop and look around. I have been concerned with where I am going instead of what I am going through.

Dawn my boss at 1000 Hills took me down into the valley the other day so I could begin to experience where the people I work with come from. The deeper we drove, the more I was astounded by what I was encountering. At first stereotypical South Africa was presented: I saw fields with Springboks leaping, women carrying large buckets of water on their heads, thatched roofs and those trees with a flat top that are plastered all over “The Lion King” movie.

Upon deeper viewing I saw these women walking for miles and miles on end to reach the one water pump the government had supplied them with. I saw clusters of poverty stricken homes. I saw public “bathrooms” that the government supplied every few meters, but I also saw their tanks overflowing because the truck that is supposed to empty them every few weeks never shows. I saw adorable children sitting beneath the Africa trees instead of sitting in a classroom.

I was overcome with the beauty that I found tucked amid the devastation. Houses were small, but the yards were kept neat. The hurt and despair that was plastered on the faces of everyone we approached quickly transformed into huge smiles, thumbs up and waving hands as our car slowed and we appreciated them instead of judging.

I still can not fully understand the lifestyle of most of the individuals I work with, but I can visualize where they come from and I can appreciate the effort it takes them to live their lives. I can not understand how a family of 8 lives in such small quarters, without running water and often electricity, but I can see the pride they take in keeping their homes and lawns clean. I can not wholeheartedly understand the time and effort it takes to walk to doctor’s appointments, jobs or grocery stores up hills for many many miles, but I can foster a deeper respect for them as they enter our facility.

I will never be in their situation, I will always have enough or know who to look to if I don’t and that will always separate me from them, but it will also allow me to give of myself wholeheartedly.

18 February 2010

I miss unlimited internet and free texting

We are only half way through February and we are already done our allotment of 'bandwidth' for the month. A.K.A our internet is shut off. I'm next door borrowing their computer for a few quick minutes to let everyone know that yes I am alive, no I am not ignoring e-mails, no I have not watched any of the Olympics, yes I miss it and no we can not talk on the phone. We had the biggest lightening storm I have ever seen here the other night and our phone line is also down.

Devastation.

Apparently I have reverted back 100 years, If you wish to contact me before March please uses your ink and quill. A fine young man on a stallion will whisk by your cottage with a lantern in hand to pick up the letter. It will undoubtedly get lost along the way, but with word of mouth, smoke signals and hieroglyphics it will one day reach me....

Until I return to the realm of cyber space....

14 February 2010

I smell like chicken breast

Last evening we joined our friends for the home opening game of the Durban Sharks rugby season. (They played the New Zealand Chiefs) There were about 15 of us who met in the stadium parking lot to braai before the game. We brought pasta salad, veggie burgers for the girls and I had a delicious steak. It felt quite comfortable to be tailgating with the boys who also brought along a few new friends. The ABSA stadium stands adjacent to the new World Cup stadium, which is quite a monstrosity. It was an interesting sight to behold I’ll have to put up pictures when I get a chance.

The game, despite a last minute loss, was very exciting. The players were drop dead gorgeous, every one of them! The crowd was energetic and the beer was delicious. It really made me miss getting all dressed up in jerseys and watching games with everyone at Gines.

After the game we met some other friends at a pub near our house and I unfortunately got a migraine so we ended up leaving. I think I was overwhelmed by all the lights and music at the game and I haven’t been feeling well for a few days; a small stomach bug and I’m sure I am dehydrated and exhausted from work (Its been about 100 degrees every day this week)

Its hard being so far from everything comforting and being sick. All I wanted was my mom, my bed, a fan, the notorious “McKennan basin” that I think we’ve all been throwing up in since we were babies and an ice pack. Instead I fumbled between laying on one of our very small couches throwing up in one of our Tupperware containers and our grimy toilet. Instead of a fan I had hot South African heat and a frozen chicken breast in a plastic bag substituted as an ice pack. All the luxuries of volunteering were made very apparent.

For the record we do have two new ice packs, but they were sitting warm in our cooler from the braai. Chicken breasts work well until you open your eyes hours later and you are face to face with a warm, bloody soggy mess. I’m gagging at the thought, as I’m sure you are. I still feel queasy so I unfortunately had to skip out on going to a huge opening celebration of a new church that was just built in one of the valleys near us, but its just as well I’m sure a day of rest will do me good.

If any of you want to fly over here with ginger ale in hand and rub my back I wouldn’t complain…

love love love

Another Valentines Day has come this year I have many valentines

-The boys in my cottage at St. Theresas told me I was all of their valentines which was adorable.

-I have gotten two very sweet valentine’s texts from Tom and Andrew, two of the local South Africans who joined us at the Rugby match last night.

-I was also given very sweet, very amusing cards from the children at St. Leos where the girls teach. One reads “Mag, I love you, you a good girl” another “Happy Valentine Day, valentine is a day for love and to know you a great friend. I do love you, you belong to me”.

-Below is my boyfriend, hes a bit young, but always wants to hold my hand


Wherever you are this Valentines I hope you know that I miss you and love you all very much! Happy Valentines Day from South Africa

baby fever

Fritz and Julie had their baby, a little girl, Ainsley Paige Cope. 5 weeks early, but both Mom and baby are doing really well.

Also, my roommate Mary-Kates brother and wife also had a little girl, Grace Elizabeth

A very exciting time for everyone, although we wish we were home to be with them! Congrats and much love to all of them and my parents who are now Nana and Grandpa for the second time!

09 February 2010

Ants in my pants...


I found 200 ants in my socks and underwear drawer last night...I now understand where the phrase "ants in your pants" comes from.

We also found a Beetle

Everything is bigger in South Africa

08 February 2010

Winter 2010

Tomorrow is a month since we have been in South Africa. It is a perplexing mix of familiar and foreign. At times it feels like it has been a few short days since our arrival- other moments it feels like it has been an eternity.

I think this weekend we all hit the realization wall; this isn't a vacation, this is home...at least of the next ten months. Unlike the freezing temperatures and snow that blanketed the North East, Kwa Zulu Natal was exceptionally hot. Although our refrigerator is stocked with liquids, and our pool is crystal clear we couldn’t resist the allure of the Indian Ocean.

I felt a sense of success as I navigated our way through the crowded streets of downtown Durban to North Beach. The beach was a beautiful contrast of sand lined with countless bodies. The adults skipped across the blistering sand carrying babies to the waves while the sun beat down on everyone. It was scorching, unlike any heat I have ever felt.

The Indian Ocean provided us with many much needed refreshing breaks from the sun and an old school compilation including Nelly, filled my headphones as I let the stress of the week slip away.

Don't worry our North East friends, I know you were getting pounded by extreme freezing weather and a snow storm so in your honor we made a sand snowman. If you can't make out the writing below its a little message to you in the snow...

" WINTER 2010"


is it illegal to post a baby butt?


Today was scorching heat at 1000 Hills so off went the babies pants and on went the hose...









A first of many goodbyes

Mary, a 22 year old patient moved to the KwaZulu Natal region from Zimbabwe a few years ago with her husband to pursue his job. She has been in and out of the Respite Unit and as of lately she has been on a steady decline. She lives on a diet of juice and yogurt because she does not have the strength to move her mouth. She was one of very few patients at the Respite who could speak fluent English and therefore she was someone whose presence I took comfort in.

Maryanne, my boss called last night to let Mary-Kate my roommate who also works at the Respite and I know that Mary- the patient (yes lots of Mary's) husband had been transfered to a job in Johannesburg. Mary had been extremely upset all weekend and after much deliberation they finally found a place like the Respite right near where her husband would be. I was scheduled to work at 1000 Hills today so unfortunately I could not accompany Mary, Maryanne, and Mary-Kate to Johannesburg, but I was able to wake early and stop by the Respite to say goodbye.

I try to spend equal time standing next to each patient, comforting them, talking with them, holding their hand and letting them know that someone is there. As wonderful as it was that Mary understood English, it was also difficult to stand next to Marys bed and see her so weak. Today however when I walked in I felt like I was seeing a totally new person. Mary looked phenomenal. Her skin was glowing and her grin was from ear to ear. I have written in an earlier post about how AIDS has overtaken her body and she can barely talk, but today was the complete opposite. Mary was formulating sentences that were crystal clear. She sat herself up and looked composed and I could understand exactly what she was saying.

She told me how important my friendship was to her and thanked me for taking such good care of her. I was and still am amazed and how eloquent she sounded. Three days ago she could barely open her mouth, I was wiping drool off her face and staring into empty eyes.

I'll miss Mary, her bright smile, her youthful spirit that came out on paper when she wrote notes to me and drew pictures. I'll miss the comfort of conversation made easy by a shared language.

As I looked into her eyes, eyes that for the first time held love and hope we both began to cry. Tears of sadness and tears of joy. (As pictured below I'm a crying mess...) I'll miss Mary more then she will ever realize




















03 February 2010

I also have two other jobs...

I have yet to elaborate upon my jobs at 1000 Hills or St. Theresa's as much as I know I should...so lets give it a whirl

1000 Hills

1000 Hills has provided me with an opportunity to do just about everything. I have worked in the Creche (Nursery) taking care of babies (infant to four years old). Becca and I have done a little of everything in the Creche...given baths, given hugs, played soccer a.k.a gotten tackled and had 50 soccer balls thrown at us. We have helped with meals, read stories, dried tears, had our hair pulled out. As wonderful as the Creche is it is hard seeing the differences between daycare here and that in America.

The standards of work done by the staff just isn't up to par. They stick the children in front of a Barney dvd and let them watch it 3 times in a row. Meanwhile they text, they call people, they look at magazines they gossip. The kids, being kids start to get antsy after about three minutes and start fighting and crying. More often then not they are ignored for a while until the workers decide they can go and play. They pack 40 of them on a mat on the floor and make them sleep like sardines during rest time. And the rest must sleep on tables because there isn't enough room. It is cute how they know they are supposed to just go laid down, but I hate how there isn't any comfort; no pillows, no mats of their own, no blankies. I'm a sucker for teddys (Froggies) and blankies.

Any interactive projects with the children are unheard of. I asked if they did art work or read to the kids and they were shocked that I was even mentioning it. Becca and I are going to try to come up with some art projects and songs and games we can play, which is actually quite hard due to lack of supplies.

Becca and I have each taken turns reading to the kids (picture below) and although they can not understand English all 71 of them sit quietly and are extremely attentive.


We started singing a song to four of them and within minutes all 71 of them were gathered around us. We put them in a circle and ended up singing every single call and repeat song we could think of (THANK YOU CAMP DAYBREAK!) Again, they don't understand much of what we are saying, but they would repeat our words and do the motions... An adorable smashing success!
Songs:
The Moose Song
You are my Sunshine
The Princess Pat
The Banana Song
The Itsy Bitsy Spider
I'm a little hunk of tin
....any other suggestions would be delightful!

I have also worked in the pharmacy, counting pills, filling prescriptions, mixing elixirs... who would have ever thought I would be in charge of someones medicinal regimen. They also have us in the Baby clinic a few days a week...weighing the children, getting peed on, taking their temps, and the blood pressure of the parents. Between being here and at Hillcrest I am getting a real taste of nursing. I'm not sure what the future holds, but I am falling in love with patient care.

Most of all and certainly most importantly...at 1000 Hills I get to cuddle, snuggle, love and be loved by the babies. They all want to touch me. They want to feel my hair and give me high-fives and they do this adorable little thing where they stick out their thumb and when you do it too they press them together and twist. It apparently means they like you. They want to give you slobbery wet kisses, and poke and prod me. They poke my skin and show others how it gets even whiter than it already is. I can't get enough of their boogy fingers, toothless smiles, crusty noses and adorable voices.


St. Theresa's Home
I have cottage two, 12 boys ages 12-13. They are so cute. We are at the home for homework help for an hour and a half three times a week and it is chaos. Boys running, screaming, dancing, singing, picking on each other and on me, but I think I have a good way of dealing with the boys in my cottage. I help each one individually and when I'm doing so I told them I expect silence. I'm pretty stern during those times and have built enough rapport with them that they follow my directions (most of the time..)

and then when homework is done we all relax. We've had some dance parties, we made 'cootie pickers' out of paper, we play American soccer and they taught me how to play cricket which I am awful at. The other day they braided my hair and gave me a back massage because "1. my hair is aooOoOooooooO silky and 2. I looked like I needed it "haha. It is obvious that all the kids look up to the four of us as their cool big role models, but they also respect us and trust us which is huge!

My boys adore the fact that I rap with and to them. They love how I say Sup boo and Hey Homie whenever they enter the room. They nick named me Zinhle (zink-lay) which in Zulu means beautiful, but when I called them out for telling me I was beautiful they got all red and started calling me Mag (yes mAg) again!


Life here is just life. There is no way to really fully describe what I do, smell, hear or see here. The days are so full and blend together that I need to remind myself constantly how fast this is all going to go. I think we have each begun to learn the importance of living in the moment. Taking everything in and focusing on one thing at a time.

I miss you all dearly, the days although they run together give me time to think about each of you, its comforting how each day really reminds me of some group. You are each, always in my thoughts and prayers!

Monday-The start of the week, I miss the beginnings - Mom, Dad, Colin, Jordan, My family, Fitch Ave, Becky and the cheddar bacon turkey sammy, my Midd boys
Tuesday-Heather, Rice, Ms. Beatty, M&M and Gummy Bears
Wednesday -St. John Vianney Crew and Bode, Ania, Kate and Matt
Thursday-Mack Biddies, Summer time crowd, OcO8, RAs, Rolfs and Claddagh
Friday-all the AV08-09, Da BRONXXX, Andrews Ave homies, kt, kendoll, dre, the priests, the army man, the subway
Saturday -My 5 Hometown Heros, drinks at BG's, Georgie the cab driver, Ales, RJs and bootsie
Sunday -Nana and Gramp

He said, She said.

A little vocab list for you all...

Zulu
Sawubona - Hello to one person
Sanibona!- Hello to two or more
Unjani? - How are you?
Ngiyaphila - I'm fine thanks!
Ngiyabonga!- Thank you
Lala Kahle! Goodnight to one
Lalani kahle! - goodnight to more than one
Hamba Kahle! - goodbye to a person
Ngubani igama lakho- What is your name (K's are pronounced like g's)
Hamba- go
Woza- Come
Ngidinga ukuzijwayeza isiZulu sami- I need to practice my Zulu


South African
howzit - how’s it going? How are you? (I never know the proper response)
tekkies - sneakers (Makes me think of star wars)
yoh - an expression of surprise (They say this after every sentence and often after every word)
braai- a barbecue (love them)
jersey-sweatshirt (bringing this word home)
robot- traffic light (I ADORE THIS!)
bonnet-car hood (I hate it)
boot-car trunk (When entering a hospital and asked to open the boot so they can check I get confused)
chappies - gum (I hand people chap stick when they ask if I have any chappies)
rubbers - eraser ("Meg, may I have another rubber?"...cracks me up every time)


01 February 2010

Sex and Jazz

A little laughter after a heavy post... A 22 year old patient at the Respite, Mary is one of my favorite patients. Although AIDS has destroyed her body - she is unable to speak or move on her own she has a hilarious personality. She was mumbling something today and I coundn't understand what it was so I gave her a pen and paper. She wrote "Yogurt". Unfortunately we were out of yogurt so I gave her the pen again this time she wrote "sex with a big man". I died. I almost peed my pants I was laughing so hard.

Despite the chaos, devastation and hardships I do find time to laugh.

The lightest piggy back

To love.

To love another.

To love another tirelessly.

An hour before the longest, hardest, most physically and emotionally draining day yet was complete I was I was asked to pick a patient up in Molweni; a town twenty minutes from the Respite Unit. Sweaty, exhausted, with a pounding headache and a queasy stomach I reluctantly said yes, knowing full well I really didn’t have a choice. Thankfully Mary-Kate came and drove, and one of the staff sat in the back to give directions. I tried hard to focus on anything other than the day I had just had.

6:40am: Our car is always parked in a garage and due to the spectacular thunder and lightning show last night the door to the garage had blown down and we found it locked this morning. After we all tried struggling with it we gave up and took our little car, which refused to start for the first ten minutes.

7:00am-11:30am: I used salt and water and cotton balls to remove dead skin, squeeze puss and blood from the bed wounds on every patient that had them. The smell of deteriorating skin, the sight of devastation done unto the body by HIV, and the silent tears that filled the vacant eyes took my breath away. I'm a of jumble sadness and frustration when working with wounds. I try my best to provide the patients with consistent love, but when flushing out a two inch deep hole in someone’s calf, loving quickly transitions into trying to make myself numb.

I still cannot put into words exactly how grave I feel every time I pull a bright flowery privacy curtain around a patient’s bed

...the tell tale preparation of undressing: revealing their bodies; revealing their wounds; revealing their collapse.

11:30-1:30: I sat with a dying man. It is true that the patients at the Respite are dying, fighting a disease that will eventually triumph, but you can never prepare. I could do nothing more than sit with him, hold his hand, try to comfort him in a language he didn’t understand and restrain his frail body whenever he tried to get out of bed. At 28 years old his breaths shallow, his eyes jaundice, his willpower lost. He was waiting on borrowed time for his family to arrive for the last time. As his sister and daughter arrived and I left his side he let out a sigh - an admission of defeat and with it my heart broke.

1:30-2: I counted statistics of all those who had died in 2009 at the Respite unit, I didn't finish counting before we had to go pick up the patient but the number was already 418

As Mary-Kate and I drove to pick up our patient I was miserable. I was grumpy, tired, nauseous and annoyed. As we entered Upper Molweni rounded the corners, saw the faces staring at us (two white girls clearly not from those parts) left pavement for dirt and drove deeper and deeper into the valley something began to change. The patients road was narrow, overgrown, steep and washed out from the rain. Mary-Kate stayed on the side of the road with the car while I accompanied the worker to the house. Her house, a thatch hut the size of my bathroom was filled with feces, bugs, flies, disorder and disarray. Two women, her neighbors helped us lift her out of bed.

She managed to walk maybe 7 steps before she collapsed on the ground, moaning in pain. Her friends were yelling at her in Zulu and in her weary voice she attempted to yell back, but instead repeated the same muffled words over and over. They told me she was saying “leave me here I want to die”.

I joined in with her neighbors – pulling her upwards, forcing her to move until it hit me. She couldn’t. Her disease was overpowering her body and if she couldn’t put up a fight I instead would. At orientation I heard Pat tell the story of his year here when he carried a woman up a hill when she no longer could do it herself and it gave me goose bumps to think of his kindness and dedication, but I never thought that I would be put in the same situation. Yet the only option I had was to make her neighbors lift her onto my back.

The path was uphill on loose gravel and my sandals were the absolute worst selection this morning. Her body was heavy, completely solid and could not help an ounce. skirt was soiled and wet, as became my back and her fingernails were digging into my skin as she tried to hold on. In a matter of seconds I know I was uncontrollably exhausted. I felt my body gasping for air, but I felt like I had more strength then ever before. As the brink of the hill approached somehow my very slow stagger turned into a jog. I have never felt so totally and completely able.

I don’t want to share these stories so you pity me, or so you start glorifying the work I’m doing. I’m not the hero, my body was a means to an end here; my compassion and love a necessity. The reason I choose to write about these thoughts is as wakeup call to myself. I know my job is hard. Its the nature of the position. Each of us here encounters suffering, death and pain and I think it is easy to focus on that because it is so prevalent.

But today I realized that the heaviest piggy back I have ever given weight wise, was the lightest load to carry. To love another tirelessly is always enough.