So first I want to start off with a moment of silence for Alba* who I discussed in my last blog last month....
Since I returned, Alba was recuperating okay from her condition, and an infectious disease doctor from the States came and diagnosed her with Stevens Johnson, a skin disease that basically causes the person to shed their skin and it has major implications for the tissues of the organs inside the body as well. Well once they diagnosed her, Alba was willing to go to the hospital again after having spent almost 2 months in her bed. They treated her and her skin cleared up but still continued with a lot of pain. But there was hope. She was recuperating.
This Monday we received a call saying that Alba has passed away. It was really tough for the personnel, we gathered together and cried and mourned and tried to pull ourselves together again. I realized then, that I would have to tell the workers in the workshop. While I was thinking about how I was going to do that, I all of a sudden heard screames and shouts coming from the workshop--who told them?? I thought.
As I ran over to see, one of my workers, Orlando* was on the floor convulsing from a seizure. While we took care of him and tried to deal with the situation, everyone in the workshop was shocked and scared and really unstable emotionally. As I started to calm them, I ask what exactly had happened, how did he fall, why, etc. They responded saying that he had mentioned something about Alba and then turned really red as he was working and then collapsed. While Orlando was sleeping after the seizure, the women started asking me about Alba...they had heard some of the staff crying. I had to tell them that she passed away and it was really difficult. We sat in silence, and then started talking about how we were feeling, the good things we remember about her. It's really important to deal with events like this emotionally and talk about it. The workers are often very passive and keep their emotions on the inside...but with that kind of reaction, their mental and emotional health suffers immensely. When Orlando woke up, I comforted him and asked him how he was feeling and what he was thinking. All he said was, "I'm thinking of Alba. She passed away didn't she." I didn't even have to tell him, after hearing our cries, he used his intuition to figure it out and all that emotion built up and resulted in a seizure.
Tuesday was the funeral. Though obviously a sad time, it was interesting experiencing a funeral of a family of different economic means. I felt, through a lot of it, like it wasn't fair. For example, the family commented on how much they had to spend on preparing the body, yet it was almost disturbing the job they did to "prepare" her. Her eyes weren't entirely closed, her mouth was still left fairly open. It looked like thye had stuffed toilet paper in her nostrils and you could see the gangrene starting to set in and change her color. I don't mean to say these things so bluntly or to judge, but it was almost upsetting to me to see her that way...as if there was little respect for her body and burial. But it's not at all a lack of respect, but rather the simple fact of money, and the investment of money in a process of someone who is already passed. I'm not sure what to take from this experience, but it was something I never really thought about before and I felt really sad and convicted morally about how we treat our dead.
I'm not sure how to end this post. It's a difficult issue. But as they say here, "Tenemos que seguir adelante" (We have to move forward). Because the lives of the patients of clinic and the workers in the workshop will continue on and they need the support and the encouragement and empowerment to think positively, to move forward, and, well, to live.
Saturday, January 31, 2009
Tuesday, December 23, 2008
Realities
Apologies, apologies...I know I have written in a very long time. However, I am now....so let's talk about the important things.
This last month has been filled with ups and downs, but mostly downs...and well, confusion...Truth is, I've seen a lot of new things that I've never experienced before and I'm still not exactly sure how to articulate the realities of things I've seen. Before I get existential, here's are some realities:
The 1st of December was marked by World AIDS Day, and so I traveled to San Pedro Sula for the city march of organizations and persons in the fight against HIV/AIDS. It was a very eye-opening experience with a slew of people dressed up in giant condom costumes and other men dressed up in drag. It was quite interesting because our organization, though faith-based and affiliated with the Episcopal Church, has one of the few outreach programs to sex workers, often male transvestites. Although I'm not involved with that project, it was really incredible to see the relationships between my co-workers and our patients who were or still are part of that line of work, shall I say. Maybe it's just part ignorance, part religious background, but I've never really been exposed to that and so it was a really interesting experience for me.
Another, and probably more intense experience this last month, has been dealing with the sickness of a former worker and co-worker of mine. Alba* the clinic's cook and cleaning lady and part-time jewelry-maker, fell very ill with a skin rash and had been in and out of the hospital for the last couple months. Well, in the last two weeks, she decided to just go home because she was tired of being in the hospital and no one being able to diagnose what she had or how to treat it. Because HIV attacks the immune system, any other illness--skin disease, cancer, tuberculosis, the flu!--can cause them to get really really sick and potentially die.
While at home these last 2 weeks, Alba has only been getting worse. One day I took my workers to go see her and spend some time with her. Now that I look back, that may not have been a good decision. When we arrived at her house, she was lying in her bed, not really able to talk. She understood what was going on, but was not able to respond. Her dark skin was very flaky and white-ish, with blood and raw flesh exposed at the joints. Her hair had started to fall out of her scalp. Lying there, she came in and out of consciousness, eyes rolling back at times, but then other times, completely alert. It was one of the most emotionally stinging experiences of my life. Seeing someone you know so well, in a healthy state, fall so ill and not even resemble herself. I hate to use the word horrifying, but it was that way for me. It was horrifying for me to watch someone suffering so much. What was happening to her skin on the outside was happening to the tissues inside her body, and that kind of pain I just couldn't fathom even though I was watching it. Many of my workers couldn't stop crying...after all, seeing a friend like that not only makes them sad, but is another reminder of their own situations and vulnerability as persons living with HIV as well. It was a very difficult moment for everyone, but out of the few words Alba could mutter, she told us not to cry...but that just made some cry even more. And can you imagine how Alba must feel? Watching person after person see her suffering so much and crying for her...I can't imagine the depression and emotional pain that must bring her in addition to the physical.
I went back a few times after that day, but after 2-3 times of watching her be responsive for a few minutes and then gasping for breath others, I just couldn't anymore. The visuals I carried in my mind were too much to handle at night alone in my apartment. And the last time I visited, she was crying out for her family and there I was, standing in the corner of the room as she yelled for her family...she couldn't make out sentences but she was communicating with them. Elizabeth, the nurse, who is like a daughter to Alba called me over to the family and told Alba, "Johanna is here, too." Alba called my name, but looked at me and said, with love I think, "No es mi hija, no es mi familia" (You're not my daughter, you're not my family). While I could have taken that badly, I was so thankful to her. I had felt quite uncomfortable in the corner of the room, although I wanted to be there to show I cared and support them, I knew I didn't belong, I was not family. While I care for her, I just couldn't go back before I left for the States. Maybe it's a selfish reason because of the emotional trauma I'm feeling through seeing her in pain, but now is most importantly a time for her to be with her family and loved ones...I, an American volunteer she's known for all of 6 months is not someone she needs to see during this painful time. It's her children, and parents, and husband, and other relatives that she needs to be with most.
An unexpected event with Alba also made me feel uncomfortable there, and it's opened up my eyes to the reality of the situation. Alba is a Christian and as she has been in this state of sickness, many people have ministered to her and she has told us that she has asked God for forgiveness and given herself to God and committed herself to his will for her, life or death. We have all prayed for her and with her and although some people's prayers have been to give her strength to fight, my thoughts watching her suffer so much, were mostly filled with, whatever You will Lord, give her peace so she doesn't have to suffer like this. The next day, she was still alive and the nurse told me that the previous night after I left, a witchdoctor came and said that there is someone putting a curse on Alba and that's why she's suffering so much. If they paid 7,000 lempira (~US$350) she would have the curse taken off and Alba would get better within 3 days. While this might seem like non-sense or radical, witchcraft is very present among the culture in Central America...mostly in Mexico and Guatemala, but migrant witchdoctors have brought the traditions to Honduras. So while I sit there hearing this and just thinking, how ridiculous this is, Alba's family (and Alba) have declared that they are going to pay and take her to the witchdoctor. This has brought a whole new world of unknown to my life. Never have I seen what I guess you could call "spiritual warfare" going on, but this was definitely part of it. And for someone like me, who feels responsible to respect the beliefs of all others, I felt, strangely, hurt. After all the medications and hospitalizations and spiritual support our organization had provided her, after the prayers people had laid upon her, after declaring that she had "entregado su vida a Dios" (turned in her life to God), she and her family were in such desperate conditions that they would do anything to have her not suffer any longer...even if it means turning against her God at the last moment of her life. And the fact that someone would take advantage of her and her family in a situation as difficult and delicate as this...it's all pretty powerful and it surprised and hurt and saddened all of us.
I'm not sure how I've conveyed this experience via webblog, but it has been something I've been struggling with and facing recently, and it's affecting me on so many levels. Maybe it's because it's the first time I'm watching someone die of AIDS. Someone I know. Someone I love. Maybe it's because I'm seeing and learning more and more about the relationship between illness and spirituality. Or maybe it's because I've just never experienced realities such as these...
This last month has been filled with ups and downs, but mostly downs...and well, confusion...Truth is, I've seen a lot of new things that I've never experienced before and I'm still not exactly sure how to articulate the realities of things I've seen. Before I get existential, here's are some realities:
The 1st of December was marked by World AIDS Day, and so I traveled to San Pedro Sula for the city march of organizations and persons in the fight against HIV/AIDS. It was a very eye-opening experience with a slew of people dressed up in giant condom costumes and other men dressed up in drag. It was quite interesting because our organization, though faith-based and affiliated with the Episcopal Church, has one of the few outreach programs to sex workers, often male transvestites. Although I'm not involved with that project, it was really incredible to see the relationships between my co-workers and our patients who were or still are part of that line of work, shall I say. Maybe it's just part ignorance, part religious background, but I've never really been exposed to that and so it was a really interesting experience for me.
Another, and probably more intense experience this last month, has been dealing with the sickness of a former worker and co-worker of mine. Alba* the clinic's cook and cleaning lady and part-time jewelry-maker, fell very ill with a skin rash and had been in and out of the hospital for the last couple months. Well, in the last two weeks, she decided to just go home because she was tired of being in the hospital and no one being able to diagnose what she had or how to treat it. Because HIV attacks the immune system, any other illness--skin disease, cancer, tuberculosis, the flu!--can cause them to get really really sick and potentially die.
While at home these last 2 weeks, Alba has only been getting worse. One day I took my workers to go see her and spend some time with her. Now that I look back, that may not have been a good decision. When we arrived at her house, she was lying in her bed, not really able to talk. She understood what was going on, but was not able to respond. Her dark skin was very flaky and white-ish, with blood and raw flesh exposed at the joints. Her hair had started to fall out of her scalp. Lying there, she came in and out of consciousness, eyes rolling back at times, but then other times, completely alert. It was one of the most emotionally stinging experiences of my life. Seeing someone you know so well, in a healthy state, fall so ill and not even resemble herself. I hate to use the word horrifying, but it was that way for me. It was horrifying for me to watch someone suffering so much. What was happening to her skin on the outside was happening to the tissues inside her body, and that kind of pain I just couldn't fathom even though I was watching it. Many of my workers couldn't stop crying...after all, seeing a friend like that not only makes them sad, but is another reminder of their own situations and vulnerability as persons living with HIV as well. It was a very difficult moment for everyone, but out of the few words Alba could mutter, she told us not to cry...but that just made some cry even more. And can you imagine how Alba must feel? Watching person after person see her suffering so much and crying for her...I can't imagine the depression and emotional pain that must bring her in addition to the physical.
I went back a few times after that day, but after 2-3 times of watching her be responsive for a few minutes and then gasping for breath others, I just couldn't anymore. The visuals I carried in my mind were too much to handle at night alone in my apartment. And the last time I visited, she was crying out for her family and there I was, standing in the corner of the room as she yelled for her family...she couldn't make out sentences but she was communicating with them. Elizabeth, the nurse, who is like a daughter to Alba called me over to the family and told Alba, "Johanna is here, too." Alba called my name, but looked at me and said, with love I think, "No es mi hija, no es mi familia" (You're not my daughter, you're not my family). While I could have taken that badly, I was so thankful to her. I had felt quite uncomfortable in the corner of the room, although I wanted to be there to show I cared and support them, I knew I didn't belong, I was not family. While I care for her, I just couldn't go back before I left for the States. Maybe it's a selfish reason because of the emotional trauma I'm feeling through seeing her in pain, but now is most importantly a time for her to be with her family and loved ones...I, an American volunteer she's known for all of 6 months is not someone she needs to see during this painful time. It's her children, and parents, and husband, and other relatives that she needs to be with most.
An unexpected event with Alba also made me feel uncomfortable there, and it's opened up my eyes to the reality of the situation. Alba is a Christian and as she has been in this state of sickness, many people have ministered to her and she has told us that she has asked God for forgiveness and given herself to God and committed herself to his will for her, life or death. We have all prayed for her and with her and although some people's prayers have been to give her strength to fight, my thoughts watching her suffer so much, were mostly filled with, whatever You will Lord, give her peace so she doesn't have to suffer like this. The next day, she was still alive and the nurse told me that the previous night after I left, a witchdoctor came and said that there is someone putting a curse on Alba and that's why she's suffering so much. If they paid 7,000 lempira (~US$350) she would have the curse taken off and Alba would get better within 3 days. While this might seem like non-sense or radical, witchcraft is very present among the culture in Central America...mostly in Mexico and Guatemala, but migrant witchdoctors have brought the traditions to Honduras. So while I sit there hearing this and just thinking, how ridiculous this is, Alba's family (and Alba) have declared that they are going to pay and take her to the witchdoctor. This has brought a whole new world of unknown to my life. Never have I seen what I guess you could call "spiritual warfare" going on, but this was definitely part of it. And for someone like me, who feels responsible to respect the beliefs of all others, I felt, strangely, hurt. After all the medications and hospitalizations and spiritual support our organization had provided her, after the prayers people had laid upon her, after declaring that she had "entregado su vida a Dios" (turned in her life to God), she and her family were in such desperate conditions that they would do anything to have her not suffer any longer...even if it means turning against her God at the last moment of her life. And the fact that someone would take advantage of her and her family in a situation as difficult and delicate as this...it's all pretty powerful and it surprised and hurt and saddened all of us.
I'm not sure how I've conveyed this experience via webblog, but it has been something I've been struggling with and facing recently, and it's affecting me on so many levels. Maybe it's because it's the first time I'm watching someone die of AIDS. Someone I know. Someone I love. Maybe it's because I'm seeing and learning more and more about the relationship between illness and spirituality. Or maybe it's because I've just never experienced realities such as these...
Saturday, November 15, 2008
Live happy :)
For those of you yearning to hear from me again…things have been, once again, hectic. Currently I’m sitting in the La Ceiba Airport listening to Nickel Creek and…well…reflecting. These last days have been filled with a lot of highs, the highest of which was my parents visiting. I missed them very much and it’s always amazing to be able to show them my life in every place I live…temporarily. I started thinking about the various places in which they have visited me, in a place that was really all my own: Baltimore, Dominican Republic, now Honduras…where will they go next? Who knows, but I’ve realized how truly blessed I am to have parents who visit me, who don’t expect to do the touristy thing, who are there to see me in my new element, to see my daily routine and how my life has changed on daily basis.
It was great to be able to show them my new job, have them meet my co-workers and friends, bring them to the Lenca pottery workshop in southern Honduras. But they definitely made me realize that this experience is going to fly by so fast that if I don’t take time for myself, time to decompress, reflect, STOP working a little, then it’s going to be over before I know it and I’m going to feel a little bit of regret that I was always working and not enjoying so much. I spend so much time traveling to purchase materials, in the workshop organizing the daily production, and then traveling again to sell, that I’m just always working. And I’ve come to a place where I’m sad and tired and jaded…which is good for no one. I want to work hard and it’s just what I asked for. But having the balance where I also take care of myself is something that I never really mastered before, especially not in school at Hopkins…I’d have rather study an extra half-hour the morning before an exam instead of take a shower, for example (and I know you other Hopkins students do exactly the same thing). But maybe that relaxing shower would have helped me even more than a half-hour more of studying. My mom always said I was addicted to stress…and in a country and culture so much more laid back, I’ve found any way possible to create an environment of stress around me. Always here or there, moving, traveling. But I’m starting to realize that it’s okay to sit, you know. It’s okay to take a deep breath. It’s okay to stop for a while, shave your legs and paint your toenails.
Since this week has been full of stress: we lost some very expensive materials in the workshop, one woman’s child is sick with pneumonia and hasn’t been HIV tested yet and it could become a bad situation, and then some more latin male issues; I’ve decided to take some time for fun for once. For those of those who might be feeling lonely too, I encourage you to just call someone to hang out…make the first step and who knows. One text to an American English teacher and now tonight I’m going camping with a group of American English teachers and peace corps workers and some Hondurans. Next week, I’m taking off work to go to the Honduran-Mexican World Cup selection game. FUUUUN!!! I will always be someone who works hard and strives for perfection in what I do…but if I’ve learned one thing recently from Honduran culture: Life is short, so don’t always live to work, instead work to live. And then live happy.
It was great to be able to show them my new job, have them meet my co-workers and friends, bring them to the Lenca pottery workshop in southern Honduras. But they definitely made me realize that this experience is going to fly by so fast that if I don’t take time for myself, time to decompress, reflect, STOP working a little, then it’s going to be over before I know it and I’m going to feel a little bit of regret that I was always working and not enjoying so much. I spend so much time traveling to purchase materials, in the workshop organizing the daily production, and then traveling again to sell, that I’m just always working. And I’ve come to a place where I’m sad and tired and jaded…which is good for no one. I want to work hard and it’s just what I asked for. But having the balance where I also take care of myself is something that I never really mastered before, especially not in school at Hopkins…I’d have rather study an extra half-hour the morning before an exam instead of take a shower, for example (and I know you other Hopkins students do exactly the same thing). But maybe that relaxing shower would have helped me even more than a half-hour more of studying. My mom always said I was addicted to stress…and in a country and culture so much more laid back, I’ve found any way possible to create an environment of stress around me. Always here or there, moving, traveling. But I’m starting to realize that it’s okay to sit, you know. It’s okay to take a deep breath. It’s okay to stop for a while, shave your legs and paint your toenails.
Since this week has been full of stress: we lost some very expensive materials in the workshop, one woman’s child is sick with pneumonia and hasn’t been HIV tested yet and it could become a bad situation, and then some more latin male issues; I’ve decided to take some time for fun for once. For those of those who might be feeling lonely too, I encourage you to just call someone to hang out…make the first step and who knows. One text to an American English teacher and now tonight I’m going camping with a group of American English teachers and peace corps workers and some Hondurans. Next week, I’m taking off work to go to the Honduran-Mexican World Cup selection game. FUUUUN!!! I will always be someone who works hard and strives for perfection in what I do…but if I’ve learned one thing recently from Honduran culture: Life is short, so don’t always live to work, instead work to live. And then live happy.
Friday, October 10, 2008
Ay, La Mochilera Que Soy (Ah, the Backpacker I am)
So...it's been about a month since my last post...I apologize. BUT this month has been FILLED with various travels and so I haven't had the time to sit down and write. In fact, I am currently in Costa Rica sitting in the host house of my friend Brian Orr from Hopkins...small world eh?
I think I'll just update you on my travels and that will bring some good Jo stories. First, about 2 weeks ago I flew to Roatan, the island, to review the work of the 8 women who I had trained in jewelry making last August. Seeing them again was refreshing because we grew very close in those 2 weeks. I got to spend sometime with one of the ladies who turned in her supplies because she wasn't going to continue on with the project. Why you ask? Well, she was pregnant and about to have her C-section the next day. Nothing personal, she said. I was really excited for her though and we spent some time discussing how she was feeling. She was nervous...a 19-year-old who would longer have the independence she once did. Nervous that the baby might be born with HIV. Nervous that the surgery would hurt. All normal fears for a woman living with HIV. I can remember her in the workshop in August, very pregnant, moody, and with an attitude of a teenager--swearing and throwing garbage in any direction. And looking at her now, I could tell she had matured in the last few weeks, with the recognition of her new role as mother. She still has a lot of maturing to do...but a part of me is looking forward to learning how someone grows with a life-change like that, watching the good it might bring, the difficulties it might bring, the frustrations and the blessings.
After that trip I returned to Siguatepeque for a few days, and then I was off to Copan Ruinas. This quaint little city is the home to the Mayan ruins in Honduras and famous cobblestone streets with some crazy-looking red taxi "cabs." I was able to stay with a friend of a Hopkins friend (thank you Jessie McKenzie) who is now living in Copan to carry out her Fulbright Fellowship (I know!) It was such a blessing to meet Therese and her boyfriend Graham and learn about her work here in Honduras. For those of you who know I applied for a Fulbright to the DR (and was rejected), it was really good for me to hear her process and experiences and ideas. It was definitely helpful...especially when she told me the Fulbright winners for the Dominican Republic were all masters students (which obvi made me feel better at least, hehe).
The majority of my time in Copan, however, was spent at the annual Project Honduras Conference, where organization that work between the US and Honduras come to share their experiences, and of course, NETWORK. I was fortunate enough to be offered the opportunity to give a presentation during the NGO panel. I was definitely nervous...I think I was one, if not the, youngest person to present, but I think it went pretty well. I spoke about the organization, our variety of projects, clinical services, and then more specifically our microenterprises and my work in Siguatepeque and Roatan. I was the only speaker about HIV/AIDS in Honduras so a lot of people had questions for me and it opened up some good conversations and networking.
Apart from presenting and that going well, I have to say that there were a lot of things that bothered me about the conference as well. The theme of the conference was "Millenium Development Goal 8: Buiding Global Partnerships"...a good theme for an international US-Honduran conference. One presentation on this topic was really helpful in discussing cross-cultural communication, which is something really difficult for Americans and Hondurans a lot of times, including myself (see last posting, haha). But, the ironic--and disappointing--part of the conference, was that we were in Copan Ruinas, Honduras (an Americanized tourist town), primarily conducted in English (headphones with translator for Spanish-speakers), and the majority were Americans talking about their work in Honduras instead of a discussion between Hondurans and Americans about their mutual work together in the country. And why is that? Well, first, Project Honduras is an internet-based initiative...connecting people far away via new technology that is isn't easily available to all Hondurans, and therefore they haven't heard of it. Second, it costs $135 simply to attend the conference, not including cost of hotels, transportation, and extra food. While that is not the fault of the initiative...after all, conferences do COST money to put on and it IS a great opportunity to learn about the different projects going on in Honduras and work together to accomplish certain goals. However it just seemed a bit frustrating to me that Hondurans can't afford to attend a conference about work in their own country, and if they can, those who don't speak English are at a disadvantage and may not be able to understand the majority of presentations and workshops. Global Partnerships means the cooperation of two-sides. The listening to local needs and the response of available resources of both Hondurans and Americans to address those needs. I know I'm an American talking, but I've come to really be proud of the fact that I'm part of an organization that is almost completely Honduran staffed and grew out of a local need that was listened to and addressed by Hondurans and Americans together.
After my Copan trip, I was almost straight off to Costa Rica to renew my visa. Yes, I, an American, had 2 days before I became an illegal in Honduras. Ironic, right? But, it's true, and my two options were go to Belize for 2-3 days alone, or go to Costa Rica for a few days to visit Julie and Brian, my Hopkins friends...despite the 17-hour bus ride, I chose Costa Rica. So here I am and it's been wonderful. Costa Rica is significantly more develop than Honduras, more lush and green, and the neighborhoods kind of remind of the LOVELY Santiago de los Caballeros, Dominican Republic that I have missed so much. It's been fantastic seeing Julie and Brian...sharing in our new lives and experiences. Yesterday I went to the Abraham Project with them and did some work as they gave their math tutoring lessons. It was almost surreal, watching them in this new, different environment outside of Hopkins. They are the first familiar faces I have seen in 4 months, yet I'm seeing them so out of the element that we are used to. We have changed but I feel I may have changed the most. I think about my life in Honduras and tell them about my work and realize that I've grown up a lot, have an altered outlook on life-planning. They've been a reminder of my structured, academic Hopkins life, which is actually refreshing after such a lack in intellectual stimulation over the last couple months. Julie mentioned today on the bus into San Jose that so many of our friends are in grad school stressing over tests and the beginning of med school. I thought about that for a moment and realize how removed my life is from academics these days. Academics was MY life. And it will be again at some point soon. But right now, it's as if my life has dramatically shifted from the academic "tunnel vision" to the practical realities of a non-linear life plan. Things happen in life. And sometimes those things--jobs, babies, sicknesses--make turns in the road. Now before I scare my parents, I do plan on going to grad school, pursuing an MPH and maybe an MSW and I'm sure by that time I'll be craving the intellectual academic stimulation and craving a "real job" (although I feel like my current job is more in touch with "reality" than many others). But maybe that won't be next year. And that's okay...because, as my mother said to me before I graduated, life is no longer linear.
I think I'll just update you on my travels and that will bring some good Jo stories. First, about 2 weeks ago I flew to Roatan, the island, to review the work of the 8 women who I had trained in jewelry making last August. Seeing them again was refreshing because we grew very close in those 2 weeks. I got to spend sometime with one of the ladies who turned in her supplies because she wasn't going to continue on with the project. Why you ask? Well, she was pregnant and about to have her C-section the next day. Nothing personal, she said. I was really excited for her though and we spent some time discussing how she was feeling. She was nervous...a 19-year-old who would longer have the independence she once did. Nervous that the baby might be born with HIV. Nervous that the surgery would hurt. All normal fears for a woman living with HIV. I can remember her in the workshop in August, very pregnant, moody, and with an attitude of a teenager--swearing and throwing garbage in any direction. And looking at her now, I could tell she had matured in the last few weeks, with the recognition of her new role as mother. She still has a lot of maturing to do...but a part of me is looking forward to learning how someone grows with a life-change like that, watching the good it might bring, the difficulties it might bring, the frustrations and the blessings.
After that trip I returned to Siguatepeque for a few days, and then I was off to Copan Ruinas. This quaint little city is the home to the Mayan ruins in Honduras and famous cobblestone streets with some crazy-looking red taxi "cabs." I was able to stay with a friend of a Hopkins friend (thank you Jessie McKenzie) who is now living in Copan to carry out her Fulbright Fellowship (I know!) It was such a blessing to meet Therese and her boyfriend Graham and learn about her work here in Honduras. For those of you who know I applied for a Fulbright to the DR (and was rejected), it was really good for me to hear her process and experiences and ideas. It was definitely helpful...especially when she told me the Fulbright winners for the Dominican Republic were all masters students (which obvi made me feel better at least, hehe).
The majority of my time in Copan, however, was spent at the annual Project Honduras Conference, where organization that work between the US and Honduras come to share their experiences, and of course, NETWORK. I was fortunate enough to be offered the opportunity to give a presentation during the NGO panel. I was definitely nervous...I think I was one, if not the, youngest person to present, but I think it went pretty well. I spoke about the organization, our variety of projects, clinical services, and then more specifically our microenterprises and my work in Siguatepeque and Roatan. I was the only speaker about HIV/AIDS in Honduras so a lot of people had questions for me and it opened up some good conversations and networking.
Apart from presenting and that going well, I have to say that there were a lot of things that bothered me about the conference as well. The theme of the conference was "Millenium Development Goal 8: Buiding Global Partnerships"...a good theme for an international US-Honduran conference. One presentation on this topic was really helpful in discussing cross-cultural communication, which is something really difficult for Americans and Hondurans a lot of times, including myself (see last posting, haha). But, the ironic--and disappointing--part of the conference, was that we were in Copan Ruinas, Honduras (an Americanized tourist town), primarily conducted in English (headphones with translator for Spanish-speakers), and the majority were Americans talking about their work in Honduras instead of a discussion between Hondurans and Americans about their mutual work together in the country. And why is that? Well, first, Project Honduras is an internet-based initiative...connecting people far away via new technology that is isn't easily available to all Hondurans, and therefore they haven't heard of it. Second, it costs $135 simply to attend the conference, not including cost of hotels, transportation, and extra food. While that is not the fault of the initiative...after all, conferences do COST money to put on and it IS a great opportunity to learn about the different projects going on in Honduras and work together to accomplish certain goals. However it just seemed a bit frustrating to me that Hondurans can't afford to attend a conference about work in their own country, and if they can, those who don't speak English are at a disadvantage and may not be able to understand the majority of presentations and workshops. Global Partnerships means the cooperation of two-sides. The listening to local needs and the response of available resources of both Hondurans and Americans to address those needs. I know I'm an American talking, but I've come to really be proud of the fact that I'm part of an organization that is almost completely Honduran staffed and grew out of a local need that was listened to and addressed by Hondurans and Americans together.
After my Copan trip, I was almost straight off to Costa Rica to renew my visa. Yes, I, an American, had 2 days before I became an illegal in Honduras. Ironic, right? But, it's true, and my two options were go to Belize for 2-3 days alone, or go to Costa Rica for a few days to visit Julie and Brian, my Hopkins friends...despite the 17-hour bus ride, I chose Costa Rica. So here I am and it's been wonderful. Costa Rica is significantly more develop than Honduras, more lush and green, and the neighborhoods kind of remind of the LOVELY Santiago de los Caballeros, Dominican Republic that I have missed so much. It's been fantastic seeing Julie and Brian...sharing in our new lives and experiences. Yesterday I went to the Abraham Project with them and did some work as they gave their math tutoring lessons. It was almost surreal, watching them in this new, different environment outside of Hopkins. They are the first familiar faces I have seen in 4 months, yet I'm seeing them so out of the element that we are used to. We have changed but I feel I may have changed the most. I think about my life in Honduras and tell them about my work and realize that I've grown up a lot, have an altered outlook on life-planning. They've been a reminder of my structured, academic Hopkins life, which is actually refreshing after such a lack in intellectual stimulation over the last couple months. Julie mentioned today on the bus into San Jose that so many of our friends are in grad school stressing over tests and the beginning of med school. I thought about that for a moment and realize how removed my life is from academics these days. Academics was MY life. And it will be again at some point soon. But right now, it's as if my life has dramatically shifted from the academic "tunnel vision" to the practical realities of a non-linear life plan. Things happen in life. And sometimes those things--jobs, babies, sicknesses--make turns in the road. Now before I scare my parents, I do plan on going to grad school, pursuing an MPH and maybe an MSW and I'm sure by that time I'll be craving the intellectual academic stimulation and craving a "real job" (although I feel like my current job is more in touch with "reality" than many others). But maybe that won't be next year. And that's okay...because, as my mother said to me before I graduated, life is no longer linear.
Tuesday, September 16, 2008
Cultural Change
So I'd like to propose the following question:
Is a cultural practice always "right" if it is an integral part of one's culture and acting otherwise is outside of one's cultural norms?
If that was a little too confusing or vague, let me develop this question...What I mean to say, is that if there is Cultural Behavior A and this behavior or practice is widely used and common practice, does that make it a "right and justified" behavior? If acting otherwise, outside of that cultural practice, would not even be considered because that cultural perspective has been so ingrained into one's way of thinking, and hence behavior, does that make that behavior "correct" if it has negative consequences? Does not "knowing otherwise" or "knowing better" (dare I say) because of a lack of formal education and unchallenged acceptance of one's cultural norms justify the practice of those cultural norms even when they can cause harm to a person, group, organization, or society?....or is this attempt to mathematical deduce a problem with cultural overtones actually a futile endeavor because mathematical reason just doesn't apply to complicated cultural issues. But alas, trying to reason is part of my cultural mentality.
Before I completely lose you, I'll get more specific. Today I was speaking with a worker of mine whose 18-year-old daughter was in town this weekend visiting. Through a little bit of discussion, I find out that this weekend she had been using words that her father didn't like, and while they weren't "bad words," he didn't approve of her using them. At one point, she said the word to provoke him, and he hit her in the face. Hard. She left the house and didn't come back for the rest of the weekend..this morning she left for Tegucigalpa where she goes to university. He hasn't heard from her since and feels bad about what he did, but she was the one to provoke him and he had to show her that she has to respect him as her father, he says.
A little taken aback by the whole situation, I gave myself a few minutes to think and then gave my two-cents. I said, "Hmm. Well, I think that while words can provoke, they never justify hitting or being violent." Wanting to keep the conversation calm, I went on to say, "I know that might be part of my culture speaking, but I think getting violent crosses a line that only words do not." He responded by telling me, "Yeah well that is your culture. It's not our culture. I felt bad about what happened, but it's part of how I respond and to others, it's justified, it's okay." I gave a small pause and said, "Well just because it's okay because of the culture and because others approve, does that make it correct? Just because it's something cultural, does that make it okay?" He didn't respond for a while, but then chimed in saying, "Honduras is different...and you know what, sometimes words hurt more than getting hit." As others' ears started to perk up to our conversation, I decided it might be best to cut the discussion at that. It's true, words can truly hurt and verbal violence is real...and getting into a discussion about violence with a group of 9 women who I'm sure at one point have all been victims of some form of violence was something I was not mentally prepared to embark on yet.
But it made me think, and it made them think. Is something like violence, which is so common and accepted, particularly against women in Honduran society, correct simply because it is part of the typical cultural response? Is not having a formal education, where one learns that violence is not (legally) acceptable, justify this type of behavior or "acts of ignorance" as some would say? Does education even have anything to do with it?
One (adapted) quote I remember from a video on Female Genital Mutilation was from a religious leader in Liberia, who said, "Just because Female Genital Mutilation is practiced and is part of our culture, that does not make it right." But it's so easy to catagorize violence, female genital mutilation, racism as bad, not just, and not acceptable. What about other more subtle cultural behaviors like, for example, gossip?
Here in Honduras, gossip is a huge part of a Honduran non-confrontational culture. When there is a problem, instead of confronting the issue or person, it is customary to talk to someone else about the person causing the problem. There is a fear of confrontation, and so what results is a cycle of gossip that hinders direct communication and hides true emotions. It seems harmless enough, but when emotions and little problems stay inside, they sit and fester...and at some point...it erupts causing much more pain and hurt and drama that would have ensued from a small confrontation at the very beginning. Perhaps this seems like a harmless "cultural norm," but when it involves the communication between patients and medical staff, between co-workers in a health setting where a continuity of care is the goal, it can have definite implications on both the patient and the medical provider, physically and psychologically.
So...is this behavior acceptable? Should it be changed? Do I, as an outsider living in this society, have the right or capacity to try to change that behavior among the people I know? At one point do we respect cultural behaviors and practices and adapt to them because they are part of the "culture," even when it's negatively going to affect the well-being or the healthy communication between individuals, an organization, or a society? Input welcome :)
Is a cultural practice always "right" if it is an integral part of one's culture and acting otherwise is outside of one's cultural norms?
If that was a little too confusing or vague, let me develop this question...What I mean to say, is that if there is Cultural Behavior A and this behavior or practice is widely used and common practice, does that make it a "right and justified" behavior? If acting otherwise, outside of that cultural practice, would not even be considered because that cultural perspective has been so ingrained into one's way of thinking, and hence behavior, does that make that behavior "correct" if it has negative consequences? Does not "knowing otherwise" or "knowing better" (dare I say) because of a lack of formal education and unchallenged acceptance of one's cultural norms justify the practice of those cultural norms even when they can cause harm to a person, group, organization, or society?....or is this attempt to mathematical deduce a problem with cultural overtones actually a futile endeavor because mathematical reason just doesn't apply to complicated cultural issues. But alas, trying to reason is part of my cultural mentality.
Before I completely lose you, I'll get more specific. Today I was speaking with a worker of mine whose 18-year-old daughter was in town this weekend visiting. Through a little bit of discussion, I find out that this weekend she had been using words that her father didn't like, and while they weren't "bad words," he didn't approve of her using them. At one point, she said the word to provoke him, and he hit her in the face. Hard. She left the house and didn't come back for the rest of the weekend..this morning she left for Tegucigalpa where she goes to university. He hasn't heard from her since and feels bad about what he did, but she was the one to provoke him and he had to show her that she has to respect him as her father, he says.
A little taken aback by the whole situation, I gave myself a few minutes to think and then gave my two-cents. I said, "Hmm. Well, I think that while words can provoke, they never justify hitting or being violent." Wanting to keep the conversation calm, I went on to say, "I know that might be part of my culture speaking, but I think getting violent crosses a line that only words do not." He responded by telling me, "Yeah well that is your culture. It's not our culture. I felt bad about what happened, but it's part of how I respond and to others, it's justified, it's okay." I gave a small pause and said, "Well just because it's okay because of the culture and because others approve, does that make it correct? Just because it's something cultural, does that make it okay?" He didn't respond for a while, but then chimed in saying, "Honduras is different...and you know what, sometimes words hurt more than getting hit." As others' ears started to perk up to our conversation, I decided it might be best to cut the discussion at that. It's true, words can truly hurt and verbal violence is real...and getting into a discussion about violence with a group of 9 women who I'm sure at one point have all been victims of some form of violence was something I was not mentally prepared to embark on yet.
But it made me think, and it made them think. Is something like violence, which is so common and accepted, particularly against women in Honduran society, correct simply because it is part of the typical cultural response? Is not having a formal education, where one learns that violence is not (legally) acceptable, justify this type of behavior or "acts of ignorance" as some would say? Does education even have anything to do with it?
One (adapted) quote I remember from a video on Female Genital Mutilation was from a religious leader in Liberia, who said, "Just because Female Genital Mutilation is practiced and is part of our culture, that does not make it right." But it's so easy to catagorize violence, female genital mutilation, racism as bad, not just, and not acceptable. What about other more subtle cultural behaviors like, for example, gossip?
Here in Honduras, gossip is a huge part of a Honduran non-confrontational culture. When there is a problem, instead of confronting the issue or person, it is customary to talk to someone else about the person causing the problem. There is a fear of confrontation, and so what results is a cycle of gossip that hinders direct communication and hides true emotions. It seems harmless enough, but when emotions and little problems stay inside, they sit and fester...and at some point...it erupts causing much more pain and hurt and drama that would have ensued from a small confrontation at the very beginning. Perhaps this seems like a harmless "cultural norm," but when it involves the communication between patients and medical staff, between co-workers in a health setting where a continuity of care is the goal, it can have definite implications on both the patient and the medical provider, physically and psychologically.
So...is this behavior acceptable? Should it be changed? Do I, as an outsider living in this society, have the right or capacity to try to change that behavior among the people I know? At one point do we respect cultural behaviors and practices and adapt to them because they are part of the "culture," even when it's negatively going to affect the well-being or the healthy communication between individuals, an organization, or a society? Input welcome :)
Friday, September 5, 2008
Sobrevivir por Ilusiones (Surviving by Illusiones)
The other Friday evening I was invited by one of my co-workers to her nephew's birthday party. She lives pretty far away, so we took the bus she takes home from work and then stopped at all of her cousins' homes in the community. Finally we made it back to her home. What a little little home. It was so empty, no furniture, only 2 beds and a closet full of clothes from her cousin who is currently "hanging out in the US." As we were chatting, Lesly* my co-worker handed me a little booklet. It was a photo album.
I don't know if any of you know, but I'm a secret photo album lover. Love looking at pictures, love making photo albums (in all my free time which I never have, ha), I just love it. Because it teaches me so much about people, lets me enter their lives, see a part of their life that may have been so wonderful or so painful. And showing your pictures can be something so vulnerable. Sometimes there's a picture that you don't want anyone to see. Sometimes there's someone in a picture you may want to forget...or someone you'll never forget. But sharing photographs is allowing someone to know your past and how that's led you to who you are today.
Anyhow, Lesly handed my this small photo album and I began to look at her life, her primos, her first boyfriend, her son. Page by page, I learned something new about her...the father of her son was in the army, a young strong gentleman who she fell in love with. He died of AIDS 5 years ago. Currently, she lives alone with her 16-year-old son in the small house, surviving, she says. The next picture was of a nice-looking Honduran man, her current love, who calls her and tells her the most beautiful things, so she told me with a blushing squint of her eyes and beaming smile. In the midst of everything, Johanna, she confessed, it's nice to hear those things. It's nice to have someone like that in your life even if you will never actually be with them...even if it's just an illusion. Some of us women here in my situation, well, it's how we survive...it's how we keep moving one day to the next. Sobrevivir por ilusiones.
Sobrevivir por ilusiones. That has now become our new favorite phrase...and it's made me really think about the situation of the HIV-infected single woman. It's hard enough to find a good-standing Honduran man, and when you do and you fall in love, are you able to disclose your infection without sending him running? How do you tell him? DO you tell him? Or...do you just try to keep your distance from him....try to keep you and him from getting hurt? Does that mean you love him from a distance, longing for him? Live as if you were together and everything was perfect? Live, survive, through those dreams, illusiones? Perhaps. Maybe it's those illusions that we can't quite grab hold of that are the dreams that keep us living for the next day hoping that those illusions will one day become realities and that we might just obtain that happiness we long for...
Thinking and analyzing and putting myself in their place, I came to realize that, yes, being in their situation is more difficult and there are definite barriers to relationships for the HIV-positive single woman....but you know what, we have a lot of similarities. I have a lot of similiarities. Sometimes I live and survive for those illusiones to get us through to the next day. Perhaps I and you, too, sobrevivimos por ilusiones. And maybe that's not so bad...helps to liven things up a bit in the middle of the melancholy or simply the middle of the mundane.
I don't know if any of you know, but I'm a secret photo album lover. Love looking at pictures, love making photo albums (in all my free time which I never have, ha), I just love it. Because it teaches me so much about people, lets me enter their lives, see a part of their life that may have been so wonderful or so painful. And showing your pictures can be something so vulnerable. Sometimes there's a picture that you don't want anyone to see. Sometimes there's someone in a picture you may want to forget...or someone you'll never forget. But sharing photographs is allowing someone to know your past and how that's led you to who you are today.
Anyhow, Lesly handed my this small photo album and I began to look at her life, her primos, her first boyfriend, her son. Page by page, I learned something new about her...the father of her son was in the army, a young strong gentleman who she fell in love with. He died of AIDS 5 years ago. Currently, she lives alone with her 16-year-old son in the small house, surviving, she says. The next picture was of a nice-looking Honduran man, her current love, who calls her and tells her the most beautiful things, so she told me with a blushing squint of her eyes and beaming smile. In the midst of everything, Johanna, she confessed, it's nice to hear those things. It's nice to have someone like that in your life even if you will never actually be with them...even if it's just an illusion. Some of us women here in my situation, well, it's how we survive...it's how we keep moving one day to the next. Sobrevivir por ilusiones.
Sobrevivir por ilusiones. That has now become our new favorite phrase...and it's made me really think about the situation of the HIV-infected single woman. It's hard enough to find a good-standing Honduran man, and when you do and you fall in love, are you able to disclose your infection without sending him running? How do you tell him? DO you tell him? Or...do you just try to keep your distance from him....try to keep you and him from getting hurt? Does that mean you love him from a distance, longing for him? Live as if you were together and everything was perfect? Live, survive, through those dreams, illusiones? Perhaps. Maybe it's those illusions that we can't quite grab hold of that are the dreams that keep us living for the next day hoping that those illusions will one day become realities and that we might just obtain that happiness we long for...
Thinking and analyzing and putting myself in their place, I came to realize that, yes, being in their situation is more difficult and there are definite barriers to relationships for the HIV-positive single woman....but you know what, we have a lot of similarities. I have a lot of similiarities. Sometimes I live and survive for those illusiones to get us through to the next day. Perhaps I and you, too, sobrevivimos por ilusiones. And maybe that's not so bad...helps to liven things up a bit in the middle of the melancholy or simply the middle of the mundane.
Monday, August 18, 2008
Last Days of Roatan
So my experience here in Roatan has been up and down. Most of the ups are the times I'm spending with the women in the workshop, teaching them jewelry techniques and them teaching me about their lives. Most of the downs have been with the sometimes demanding requests of my American week-long volunteers clashing with passive Honduran behavior. Yes, I used to be a week-long mission tripper myself but I see a different perspective now and am grateful for how I spent those trips sleeping on the church floor instead of at a beach resort. Nevertheless, I was able to get through some of the hard, soul-challenging dilemmas that arose, and found my refuge in the moments of conversation between the women at the jewelry table. I can sometimes remember looking around the table and realizing I was the only person besides the women themselves--the only "outsider"--that could understand what they were saying and that could fully take part in the sharing of life stories. That was pretty amazing.
So, from here on out, I'm just going to share tidbits from some of their more fascinating conversations:
One late morning, the issue of HIV and condom usage came up (a lot of hondurans i know love making sexual references whether appropriate or not and therefore the conversation im sure went from some random funny innuendo to a more intense, serious matter). We began to hit on key topics that I've heard and studied before like accessibility and costs of condoms, their acceptability among the community, etc, and then the conversation headed towards just what fascinates me the most: gender roles. A couple workers began to discuss how the "sistema ha fallado las mujeres" (system has failed women) because condoms always fall under the responsibility of the man...to buy, to bring, to bear. Before I could ask my questions (can women take the responsibility to bring condoms...are females condoms available here...are they used?), the conversation took an even more interesting turn: hombres que andan en la calle (men sleeping with other women).
One of my favorite women in the workshop, and certainly the most outspoken, put down her macrame board, gave a little attitude-im-about-to-say-something-so-listen-up wave of her hand, and said (in spanish), No, no, no...you see, it's the married women that' has the risk nowadays. How HIV goes around this place, if you're single, you'd be crazy to not put on a condom. But the married women...well what's she gonna do when her husband sleeps around and then comes home for his wife. She's not going to make him wear a condom, and she's not going to say no to sex because she's got her needs too. And passive women have it worst because they wont communicate with their husbands and they wont fight for themselves. But at the same time, they dont satisfy their husbands. So you know, it doesnt just fall on the husbands either. It falls on the communication between them both. A woman has to be willing to learn how to satisfy a man, be a little risky and explore. And the man has got to be faithful. Both have to trust too.
Yep, I wish I had a tape recorder. It was as if all the stories and explanations I've heard about in class regarding gender roles and HIV/AIDS was coming out of this woman's mouth. How responsibility falls on both sides and how communication between the two is the most important and crucial answer. Yet it seems pride and fear stand in the way.
As I looked around the group, I noticed some of the other women staying quite but nodding at times. I asked the group if this was the case, how do we change that. Their responses were few, saying that there was no way to really change it. I later asked how many had been infected by their husbands who had been previously unfaithful. Almost every head raised and gave me a nod. I couldn't believe it...and yet I also couldn't believe how upset and angered I was by it while they were so melancholy about it. As I was reflecting, one women interrumpted my thoughts to help me better understand their perspectives. She told me, Look, whats done is done. You can't go back. I've forgiven him. We have 2 kids and I love him. And so we've moved forward. We're both patients here at the clinic and we're doing well.
Here I was shocked and angered by the fact that each of these women, each of these women who I've been working with and have come to love, had been the exact examples of HIV transmission and gender imbalances/power relations. And yet they've forgiven, they have shown compassion, and they have moved on with their lives.
Sometimes I think because I come from the States and have heard about the "ravage" of HIV among the developing world, I have this acquired sense of intensity or obvious gravity of the situation. Sure, HIV is serious issue. And when you see patients who have progressed so far they have to be carried into the clinic, the intensity and gravity of the situation are given a face. But I feel like, in my experience, the focus is so much how horrible of a disease it is, that we don't focus so much on the hope and the compassion that people living with HIV carry with them daily.
I'll leave you with experience that really touched me. At the support group on Saturday, Dona Nilva* (a HIV veteran at the clinic and one of the workers I trained these last couple weeks) and I had a quiet moment when she was able to share some of her incredible testimony with me. At one point, she looked at me and said, Look, Johanna. Depression is serious. Some days, I wake up and I look at my pills and I think, My God, I have to live the rest of my life waking up to these pills. That's a depressing thought. But then, I try to think about thanking God for these pills. He's given me these pills so that I can live day after day. So that's what I think about and that's how I move forward.
So, from here on out, I'm just going to share tidbits from some of their more fascinating conversations:
One late morning, the issue of HIV and condom usage came up (a lot of hondurans i know love making sexual references whether appropriate or not and therefore the conversation im sure went from some random funny innuendo to a more intense, serious matter). We began to hit on key topics that I've heard and studied before like accessibility and costs of condoms, their acceptability among the community, etc, and then the conversation headed towards just what fascinates me the most: gender roles. A couple workers began to discuss how the "sistema ha fallado las mujeres" (system has failed women) because condoms always fall under the responsibility of the man...to buy, to bring, to bear. Before I could ask my questions (can women take the responsibility to bring condoms...are females condoms available here...are they used?), the conversation took an even more interesting turn: hombres que andan en la calle (men sleeping with other women).
One of my favorite women in the workshop, and certainly the most outspoken, put down her macrame board, gave a little attitude-im-about-to-say-something-so-listen-up wave of her hand, and said (in spanish), No, no, no...you see, it's the married women that' has the risk nowadays. How HIV goes around this place, if you're single, you'd be crazy to not put on a condom. But the married women...well what's she gonna do when her husband sleeps around and then comes home for his wife. She's not going to make him wear a condom, and she's not going to say no to sex because she's got her needs too. And passive women have it worst because they wont communicate with their husbands and they wont fight for themselves. But at the same time, they dont satisfy their husbands. So you know, it doesnt just fall on the husbands either. It falls on the communication between them both. A woman has to be willing to learn how to satisfy a man, be a little risky and explore. And the man has got to be faithful. Both have to trust too.
Yep, I wish I had a tape recorder. It was as if all the stories and explanations I've heard about in class regarding gender roles and HIV/AIDS was coming out of this woman's mouth. How responsibility falls on both sides and how communication between the two is the most important and crucial answer. Yet it seems pride and fear stand in the way.
As I looked around the group, I noticed some of the other women staying quite but nodding at times. I asked the group if this was the case, how do we change that. Their responses were few, saying that there was no way to really change it. I later asked how many had been infected by their husbands who had been previously unfaithful. Almost every head raised and gave me a nod. I couldn't believe it...and yet I also couldn't believe how upset and angered I was by it while they were so melancholy about it. As I was reflecting, one women interrumpted my thoughts to help me better understand their perspectives. She told me, Look, whats done is done. You can't go back. I've forgiven him. We have 2 kids and I love him. And so we've moved forward. We're both patients here at the clinic and we're doing well.
Here I was shocked and angered by the fact that each of these women, each of these women who I've been working with and have come to love, had been the exact examples of HIV transmission and gender imbalances/power relations. And yet they've forgiven, they have shown compassion, and they have moved on with their lives.
Sometimes I think because I come from the States and have heard about the "ravage" of HIV among the developing world, I have this acquired sense of intensity or obvious gravity of the situation. Sure, HIV is serious issue. And when you see patients who have progressed so far they have to be carried into the clinic, the intensity and gravity of the situation are given a face. But I feel like, in my experience, the focus is so much how horrible of a disease it is, that we don't focus so much on the hope and the compassion that people living with HIV carry with them daily.
I'll leave you with experience that really touched me. At the support group on Saturday, Dona Nilva* (a HIV veteran at the clinic and one of the workers I trained these last couple weeks) and I had a quiet moment when she was able to share some of her incredible testimony with me. At one point, she looked at me and said, Look, Johanna. Depression is serious. Some days, I wake up and I look at my pills and I think, My God, I have to live the rest of my life waking up to these pills. That's a depressing thought. But then, I try to think about thanking God for these pills. He's given me these pills so that I can live day after day. So that's what I think about and that's how I move forward.
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