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February 10^th

Today, after 6 months of working in village at my dispensaire, I saw my first HIV positive test.

Every Monday, women come in groups of about 20 to the dispensaire for CPN (Consultation Prenatale). It is recommend that each woman attend at least 4 during their pregnancy. Here, they receive regular check ups on their pregnancy and receive free medication to prevent the transmission of malaria from the mother to the fetus. Also, during their first visit, they are given an HIV test.

Today a woman came in a brought her partner with her. He’s only the second man I’ve ever seen come in to have an HIV test. When I typed up the end of the year reports for 2013, I recorded that less than 

1% of male partners come to the dispensaire to be tested for HIV.

I was beaming with pride for this happy couple. Honestly, I was fighting the urge to tell him how great it was that he came in with her. Usually during these routine visits, I take a back seat and let my accoucheuse and matrone do the work. I help where I can, and correct them if I feel it’s needed, but this is their job and their community. I am at the dispensaire for assistance and learning until my time is absorbed into other things.

The woman there for CPN went through the normal examination, and he had his test done while he waited. I glanced over at their tests and noticed one had two lines, instead of the usually one. I looked over to my accoucheuse and asked if it was positive. Her and the matrone exchanged glances and she told me that yes, the woman was positive.

It was then, that I realized I had secretly wished it was the man. Not because I have anything against Togolese men, or men in general (I like you guys a lot). It’s because now this woman doesn’t only have to feel responsible for her own life, but also her child’s. HIV now affects both of their futures. And that of any other future children she wishes to have. I’ve seen families with over 10 children here. Will this woman have to worry about this 10 times?

When she sat down after her exam, they explained to her that she had HIV, but her white blood cell count wasn’t at a dangerous level yet. They told her about the options for preventing it’s transmission to the baby and a lot of other things in Kabiye I couldn’t put together.

As the situation plays about before my eyes, I expect to see a reaction of devastation or concern or shame. And there’s nothing. I was searching for some kind of hint about what she felt or what she understood. I wanted to ask if she was scared. And explain that you can live a long life with HIV as long as you take care of yourself.  And that if handled correctly, her baby won’t get it.

But she just remained calm and took in everything the accoucheuse was saying to her. It’s like this news came as no surprise.

It was the same with her partner. When he walked in and discussed the steps she would have to take, also nothing. I wanted to tell him she was still the woman he loved and that they could continue enjoying each other with safe methods. And that their baby could be healthy.

At the end of the talks, the couple left just as quietly as they had come. I spent the rest of the time during CPN running through scenarios in my mind of how this plays out. If they stay together. If the baby is positive or negative. If she does everything right and lives a long life. If she has more babies.

I don’t know if it was the positive mark that affected me so much, or the concern that maybe they didn’t understand the gravity of what this positive mark meant.

The reality is. I have no idea. I have no clue whatsoever about the personal workings of that family and how this will affect them. And I would say it’s really none of my business…

But it is.

It’s a huge part of why I’m here. To understand what people know about HIV. How to prevent getting it. How to prevent giving it. What it means to be positive and how that affects your future.

All day, my mind has kept going back to that woman. I try to think of reasons why she had no reaction. Whether it’s lack of understanding. Or if it’s being faced with a disease like that here comes as no surprise. Or if there’s worse things she’s been through. Or whether she actually understood everything completely and just has a serene disposition.

I don’t want to make any assumptions while I’m here. But I do want to learn.

I really want to make the effort to take on others perspectives here. Especially in these situations. Where doing so may give me some kind of insight into just how I can try to help.

Wishing for mind reading powers,

Kumealo

HI-HO HI-HO

February 6^th

It’s off to the garden I go.

Sun hat on head. Watering cans in hand.

Whistling like I’m the eighth dwarf – Hippy.

I’ve been asking my homologue since October if he’d walk around village with me and help me identify where the quartiers (neighborhoods) stop and start and where some of the most prominent figures in village live.

Finally, in January, I decided to start myself.

(I also need something to do to get me out of my house. My arms see plenty of action – hauling water our of a well, carrying it on my head, doing laundry by hand, sweeping my entire cement house with a two-foot long bundle of grass, etc. But my lower body has deteriorated into nothing. All my cycling/running muscle is gone…)

Anyways, long walks and getting to know my village even better was my new mission to start this year. After walking for about an hour, I decided to hang out at the school on the outskirts of village that had just emptied for lunch. It over looks adolescent hills that gradually mature into mountains in the distance. It was also.. quiet. A rare pleasure one can experience here in West Africa.. what with all the animal noises, aggressive conversations, babies crying, and music blaring 99.9% of the time. I spotted a collection of Baobab trees (African trees with knotted bodies that tower over you, complete with twisted branches and fruit hanging down) across the field from the school and decided to check them out.

On my way, I met a woman coming back from the fields that only spoke local language. Although we couldn’t really understand each other verbally, I could tell she thought I was lost. She gestured that to go to Teroda I needed to go left, and to go back to Kemerida I needed to go right. I tried to gesture that I understood, but wanted to stay here. I tried to do all the good-bye’s in Kabiye and then continue on my way to the tree cluster. However, she refused to leave unless I went with her. She walked me all the way back in to town and acted as if she’d done me a huge favor. To humor her I said all the local language thank-yous and remained in town.

The idea of just walking here doesn’t exist. You have to have a purpose. And you have to tell everyone that purpose. I feel like I just turned 16 and am determined to explore the world, but then there’s 1,000 parents asking where I’m going, for what, and how long I’ll be. And it’s not that they don’t listen to my answers.. just sometimes they actually can’t understand them..

I decided to walk to Judith’s and explain my predicament: 1. What do I tell people when I just want to walk? And 2. How can I learn about the village without having someone there to guide me? Judith 

always has the best solutions.

The next morning Roman (her 14 year old son) showed up at my door and said he was to take me on a tour of the village. I packed a backpack and off we went. We toured four different quartiers and I learned the dominant families in each one.  If we came up on a hill, we would run to the top of it and look out over the fiels that continue for miles. Every fruit tree we passed, he would teach me the names in Kabiye, and then shoot us down a sample. After a couple hours, he asked if I was tired, or if I wanted to check out the community garden. He hadn’t watered it yet today and if I was up for it, he’d like to show me. He warned me it was a pretty far walk though.

Honestly, I didn’t even know we had a community garden before that moment? Naturally, I jumped on the chance to see it. How could I be here for 6 months already and just learn this information? I owed it to my community to become familiar with this major missing chunk of information.

The garden runs a long a river about a mile outside of my village and continues about 2 miles down it. Each family has their own plot of land that they can choose to cultivate or not. Roman said they start working the garden in August and then everything is ready in February. Then in March, no one works in the garden anymore because it’s time to start on the corn.

He explained all this on the 30 minute walk out there. His little plot was towards the furthest end of the garden.. As we end up on top of a hill over looking the shrinking river (2 months of dry season already), you can see the land divide into shapes of different colors and sizes. Well.. the colors were all mostly green. But different greens. The cabbage lots were the most noticeable.

As we get closer, you can see bikes parked underneath the trees, women starting fires to boil some yams in their marmites for the workers in the field, women in clusters bending over at the waster to pick peppers, and boys running back and forth to the river to fill up watering cans. Again, I experience the same serenity I discovered sitting outside the school looking into the hillside.

When we reached Roman’s plot, he showed me this melons, cabbage, lettuce, carrots, and pimante (peppers). He picked a few of them for us to eat. After he showed me where he keeps his watering can and enters the river, he let me water his patch. After we were done, we crossed a bridge to the other side to continue doing the same thing with his friends. He told them I’d already watered with one can, and together they decided I should prove that I could do two. One of Romans friends went first to demonstrate.

He took the two huge pails, agilely worked his way down the slippery slope into the river bed, walked in to the knees, submerged the water cans, and ran back up the steep mud covered bank back with his arms locked in 45 degree angles, biceps the size of my face. Then, with a pail in each hand, he lowered his arms into slightly obtuse angles, maintaining bicep contraction and watered the patch with both pails at the same time. “See, it’s easy,” he says. 

So now I guess it’s my turn.

In my chacos, I very ungracefully slip down the slope, but manage to stay on my feet. While in my mind, like a broken record, plays “please, don’t fall.. please, don’t fall.” Upon making it down to the water and wading in, I remember a lecture from the Peace Corps Med Unit about fresh water sources in Togo.. and their very adamant warnings to avoid them. Because of things like Schisto.. and other extra intestinal parasites. So, distracted from my thoughts of self-preservation, my mind flipped a switch to, “please, don’t get schisto.. please, don’t get schisto.. was that a pink snail?.. because I think those carry schisto.” Too late now though, I decide. I’m already in the water. Elbow deep, filling up my pails. I emerge with my two cans, 45 degree angles, and cramps threatening my biceps. I work my way up the bank with very slow and deliberate steps. I felt like I should be wearing one of those sumo wrester costumes ballooning around me. You know the ones where you face each other in a squat position and then slowly rotate around each other with huge, purposeful steps in preparation to charge? Maybe it’s just me.. but that’s how I felt walking up this slope with the watering cans.

The boys up top are giggling, but they let me continue. I take a steep step up to the garden and waddle over the quenched vegetables and let my elbow angles become obtuse. I can tell I’m absorbing all the effort in my back and straining parts of my body more than I should be, but I’m succeeding! Two handed watering. Ohhh yeahhhh. The boys all applaud me and tell me I can help them work in the garden any time.

After Roman and I finish with his friends, I’m on cloud 9. Probably all the endorphins I produced in those 3 minutes my arms threatened to burst.. I started thinking about how therapeutic it would be to do this every day. To bike out to this garden early in the morning, away from all the noise, and work side by side my neighbors for my livelihood. Eat boiled yams, nap under a huge tree, and then continue into the afternoon. I decided to ask Roman if there was a way to make it happen. He told me I could help him with his garden for now, and then maybe in August we could find a plot just for me.

Continuing with my elation, we made our way down the river and into many more families’ gardens. I offered my watering services and in exchange got cabbages the size of my head. When we reached the pimante fields, we were given some of those freshly boiled yams (taste like baked potatoes) that we snacked on in between disrobing bushels from all of their peppers. Roman also taught me the names of all the vegetables in Kabiye and how to say other phrases related to fieldwork. At the end of the day, several people invited me back the next week and they’d sent me home with an entire bucket of pimante peppers, that I don’t really even eat..

We ended up getting back to Judith’s around 2 o’clock, sunburned (well, just me) and starved. We delivered the fruits of our labor and then Judith prepared a meal. Fed and ready for a nap, I made my way home, gifting everyone I met pimante peppers on the way.

This was by far one of my favorite days in village. I woke up with no plans, as usual, and not only found an enjoyable way to kill one day, but now have plans for how to get out of my house and into my community for the next month! I’ve already talked to Roman and we are heading to the garden this weekend. He has school, but he told me I could work with him every Saturday. I’ve also made plans just to make a short trip out there a few afternoons just to see if I can lend a hand.

I really hope come August, I’m able to start my own plot. Working in a garden almost every day for a few months sounds challenging, but also such an amazing thing for my mind and body to take on.

There are a lot of things I miss about the U.S. every single day.

But there are a lot of things I can do here that I know I’d never have time for without this opportunity.

I am getting busier as my projects take off, but it is so nice to know that I will almost always have time to waste with yoga and gardening.

Here, I always have time for growth.

Pun intended.

Happy gardening my friends,

Kumealo

La santé avant tous

Health Club

February 4th

“La santé avant tous!”

That’s what I say in response to the kids in my health club’s chants of “Le Club de Sante!” when I pass them on the street, in the market, or greeting everyone after church.

It’s supposed to be a members’ only thing. You know. Real secretive and exclusive like. Mostly I think they do it just to make me happy. And it works. every time.

Tomorrow will be the 4^th meeting of my health club at the CEG (ages similar to Jr. High). We meet each Wednesday from noon to 13h.

Despite having done this 3 times already, I still get really nervous.

Trying to give a technical presentation that’s fun, informative, and in a language you just started working on 6 months ago to a bunch of teenagers is not a piece of cake. It’s actually more like a whole cake. that’s cream filled. with 4 tiers, fancy icing flowers, chocolate covered fruits, and pearl strands. That shoots fireworks off of itself.

But, for the time being, it’s the only real work I can say that I’ve begun here in Togo. And it’s also something that continually makes me very happy to be here and gives me a lot of hope for what’s to come.

I’ll try to give you a brief synopsis of the meetings we’ve had thus far and my own insights on them.

Our first meeting was the second Wednesday after school started for the second trimester. We did introductions, discussed rules and expectations, reviewed the syllabus for the next few months, and talked about ideas for the club’s chant (to be continued..)

I find a secret pleasure in telling people my real name. I guess by saying that my American name is Shea, I feel like I’m reminding people that I had a life before Kemerida and Kumealo. Usually, I’m either overwhelmed by the feeling of being a complete stranger, or the feeling of losing myself just to be a little bit more like everyone else. Introducing myself as Kumealo-but oh-wait-really-it’s-Shea, to me, is my way of saying, “I am here by choice. I willingly accept this impossible challenge of conformity and integration, (hell, I volunteered for it) but I am also still the person I always was.”

Also during this meeting, I discovered the lack of originality in self-expression. Or more so, the lack of value in personal identity in the Togolese culture.  When I did my introduction, I also included things that I liked, at home and here in Togo. Then, I asked the kids to introduce themselves and say one thing that they liked. My observations were that 1. I will never learn all their names. ever. They aren’t as elementary as Nala and Simba. And 2. Everything that they like, is everything that I like. Including things that don’t exist in Togo. They just repeated to me things that I had already said, like Mexican food and yoga. It made me reflect back on my childhood in the States where I’d be pissed if someone said their favorite color was red before I did. “Bitch, stole my color!” (Okay, maybe that’s the more adult version of what I would have thought as a child, but I’m working to make this relatable, okay?).

In the U.S., from a very young age, we try so hard to come up with original ideas. Every one wants to define themselves with a different idea, opinion, or desire. Being able to think for ourselves sort of shows we’ve figured out a little bit in this crazy world. But here, the people don’t feel that intellectual pressure. When all of your time is directed towards simple survival, there’s not a whole lot of room for entertaining philosophical ideas and contemplating the unknown. How they measure how much they’ve mastered in this life is whether or not they can perfectly mimic the technique for making pate, doing laundry, and carry things on their heads. Through careful observation, you can see that each person’s physical actions are done in a very specific and deliberate manner. A practice that’s been perfected and passed down through history. When all of your time is directed towards simple survival, there’s not a whole lot of room for entertaining philosophical ideas.Repetition here is the way only way to learn. It ensures you master the information and methods you need to succeed without the whole trial and error process. The kids repeated what I said because they didn’t want to run the risk of getting it wrong. Everything here is wrong or right. Black or white. There’s not a gray area for “hey I think this, let’s have a discussion about it.” This will definitely be something I keep in mind for the remainder of my time working here in Togo.

Week 2, we continue easing in to all the technicalities surrounding health education. As our first official lecture, we discussed the importance of good health – essentially, why you made a great choice joining this club and how this knowledge is going to improve the rest of your life! (insert jolly thumbs up motion) I had 4 posters: 1. What does it mean to have good health? 2. Why is good health important to you? 3. Why is your good health important to others? 4. What are some general practices to maintain good health? Then we had a group discussion to fill them out. My personal favorite was number 3. I felt that by being a catalyst in this discuss about how your health affects so many other things, I was able to encourage these kids to take on a new perspective. To think outside their own personal box. We started with immediate effects on friends and family, but then were able to get into the economy and development. At the end of the lesson I asked them, what is the main thing that we learned today? One student silently held up a portable chalkboard that said: “La santé avant tous.” And that’s how we got our slogan.

That chalkboard was then passed to the back row, where a group of boys had to work together to write out “I love you, Shea” (I inserted that comma. Not giving them too much extra credit here) and held it up for me to see. First, I’m impressed they remembered my real name. And spelled it correctly. Second, I’m rolling my eyes in my mind. But also smiling/giggling outwardly. Three, wondering how old these kids even are. And four, why the heck do they have a little chalkboard. And where can I get one. After the meeting, they invited me to go drink tchouk in the market with them, but I declined. For one reason, I still had work to do and tchouk puts me.. in a good place. But also, would it be inappropriate to drink with the students in my club? To be determined..

Also, a girl brought me a bag with four papayas. My mind went to, “Man, one of these things is like 8 apples.” (Please get apple/teach reference – I’m very self-conscious about my sense of humor via typing.)

Last week was not my favorite. I needed a filler week - something to pass a lesson before starting HIV that could be completed in one hour and required zero follow up. We did.. the importance of hand washing. It is a very very addressable issue here in Togo. It just also happens to be one of the least exciting to talk about. I drew a diagram about how everyone’s shit from outside (because the majority of people use the bathroom outside) ends up on our hands, in our food, and consequently, in our stomachs. Then we did a demonstration with oil to illustrate the importance of soap. I poured some on my hands, and then had 5 kids stand in a line next to me. I shook the first persons and then it continued down the line. In the end, each person had it on their hands – demonstrating how we share microbes from one person to another. Then, we washed our hands with just water. Shockingly enough, the oil wouldn’t come off. But the second time with soap.. now that did the trick – demonstrating that the microbes are only effectively removed when one uses soap.

We wrapped up this week with a survey on HIV. Since I’d be starting lectures on it next time and continuing with them for a month, I wanted to see what the kids already knew. Then, at the end of my 4 lessons, I’m going to give them the same questions to see what the learned. Really, I’m just forcing them to unknowingly partake in an evaluation of myself..

They freaked out about the questions at first, convinced they were a test. I had them write their names on them for attendance, but that may have been a mistake.. I asked them 1. What does HIV attack? (14% correct) 2. What are the three modes of transmission? (19% correct) 3. What are two ways to prevent getting HIV? (47% correct) and 4. Is there a cure for it? (86% correct).

Despite how uneasy it made them, and the fact that I’m now afraid no kids will show up next week, I’m really glad I asked those questions. Less than 50% can name two ways of how to protect themselves. Some even said a prevention method was washing your hands. Then, when I asked about transmission, I learned some are convinced you can get it by simply having dinner with a person with HIV. It’s empowering to know that they have something to learn and that you can be the one to teach them. It makes me feel like my work here is meaningful and can at least make a difference to a few people. I’m really excited to see the survey results in 4 weeks!

And now for tomorrow. Our first lesson on HIV/AIDS. We are going to learn about how HIV attacks the immune system by playing a game with elephants and lions. Leaving out the tigers and bears. IT’S SO COOL.

One person is the baby elephant in the middle. It is protected by a group of 10 – 15 students in a circle around it that represent the rest of the herd. Then, 3 – 4 students are lions, whose objective is to break through the herd’s circle and attack the baby.

Round one: The lions fail to attack the baby elephant (ideally, it works this way…)

Then, a hunter comes in and kills off half of the herd protecting the baby elephant.

Round two: The lions serve the baby elephant up on a platter.

Then, I’ll make the miraculous connection between the animals and the elements of HIV. Baby elephant = immune system. Big elephants = white bloods cells that protect the immune system. Lions = opportunistic infections. Hunter = HIV. So what happens when HIV is present? It kills off the white blood cells protecting the immune system so that it’s easier for opportunistic infections to attack.

That just blew your mind.

I’m so pumped for this lesson. Fingers crossed it works out like it’s supposed to…

Also, I’ve had a lot of experiences lately that I’ve wanted to write about. However, there’s an inverse relationship between the time spent having those experiences, and the time available to write about them (that’s the excuse I’m using anyway). I have a list, but be patient. I’ll get it all out eventually.

My goal is to have 3 other blog topics addressed and linked to you before I touch American soil.. IN JUST OVER 4 WEEKS! (Just short vacation. Coming back in order to keep feeding your blog reading addition. Promise.)

In the meantime, I’m going to go teach some kids about the relationship between our body’s immunity and The Lion King.

La santé avant tous,

Kumealo