STEPHANIE HEADS EAST: Wiki kumi na mbili

To sum the week up lightly, I feel like I have soared on an emotional roller coaster. I learned about some of the struggles of those residing in East Africa, and was given a tiny glimpse into the lives of those people living with HIV/AIDS.

The first days of the week were spent sitting intensely over the computer as Ruben and I peiced together a protocol for a research study we have been outlining over the past few weeks. I will start off by saying, I am so privileged to work with someone who has so much experience working in this country and running clinical trials. He just seemed to instinctively know which questions we could ask to obtain the most useful information in the most unobtrusive ways. His motives are pure, and his efforts honest as he hopes all of the work we complete will directly benefit those who chose to participate. With ethical considerations in the forefront of our minds, we put together an eight page questionnaire in which we hope to learn more about the participants probiotic yogurt and food consumption patterns, social economic status, home life, education level, social stigmas encountered since learning their status to name a few of our parameters.

On Tuesday evening, we had a going away party, jambe drum circle and bonfire for a very good friend that I have made here. Tara and I travelled with Manuela last week and now she has headed home to Germany to begin another semester of school. Waving goodbye to another friend… happens way to often here.

Manuela setting the beat

Firestarter

On Thursday Ruben and I were finally able to go out into the field after a much anticipated wait. We headed to the yogurt kitchen in Mabatini in hopes of travelling to a town called Mahina where a group of 70 PLWHA currently consume probiotic yogurt free of charge. As we patiently waited Ruben and I were able to take part in the morning yogurt production process with Mama’s Shida and Leah, and were able to meet and greet many of their customers. After waiting for a few hours, we realized our escort was not going to arrive so Ruben, with his impeccable Swahili, began chatting with the Yogurt Mama’s and found out that many of the customers who travel to the kitchen on a daily basis have the virus as well. Eventually we had a little code system set in place were Mama Shida would give us a little nod as their customers were walking through the door. Once given that nod of approval, we would begin asking a few questions in hopes of recruiting for participation in our study.

Over the course of the day we met with several people, mostly women, who had been directed to the kitchen from the CTC at the hospital in which they have their blood samples analyzed. Within 15 minutes I sat dumbstruck as I listened to the words these women offered. First, a women who fled her village with 10 others that had fallen extremely ill within the past few months. Upon arrival in the city of Mwanza, she found herself to be the only survivor. She travelled to the hospital to explain her symptoms, severe weight loss, oral canker sores, a scaly rash and aching muscles. She learned that she had progressed to the final stages of AIDS as her CD4 cell count sat at a mere 41. She’s now holding on to life with every last bit of strength in her frail 5 foot 8 inch 37kg frame, finding solace in the fact that she has met warm hearted people in Mwanza who have given her shelter and food, as she carries her only belongings, the clothing on her back. Next, we met a woman who had been widowed just 10 days before. She was holding the hand of her three year old daughter, who also has HIV and is currently fighting a parasitic infection. The little girls belly was bloated to the point where she looked as if she had kwashiorkor, a form of protein energy malnutrition in which the liver enlarges and edema sets in. We presume that she is ravished with worms as she will not eat although her gut feels solid and her lymph glands swollen. Her mother makes a living selling parachichi, avocados, for 300-500 shillings at the bottom of the hill of Mabatini, their only source of income. Thirdly, we met a woman who learned of her HIV status at the beginning of this year. Her husband refuses to be tested as he would rather not know his status than live with the burden of knowing how numbered his days may be. These are the devastations of HIV. Each person we talked to that day had a story to tell. All, eager to participate in our research study, because they claim that their health has improved since they have been consuming probiotic yogurt. All equally eager to help others who are in their shoes as they battle the fight against HIV/AIDS.
Tara and I took motor bikes to yoga that night. Sometimes even the best of class cannot clear the mind of the days work.

Tara racing a dala dala

On Friday morning I went to NIMR before travelling back to the kitchen for English lessons with the Mama’s. As I sat with the women, we talked about how valuable their work is. I was also explaining to them how so impressive their English has become since the summer interns initiated lessons nearly one year ago. We spent a few hours together in the afternoon, then I strapped a bucket of yogurt to my bike and rode off to Forever Angels. I was able to spend some time with the beautiful children, helped to feed them dinner and have a bath, then put them to bed.

On Saturday, Tara and Ruben went to the clinic at Sekuo Toure. I hoped to get some more work done on the computer, but to my dismay, we were without power once again. I packed a bag and headed up to a spot with one of the best views of in the city. I sat for a while and just stared. In front of me lay a stunning view of Lake Victoria, with the white sails up high tugging the fishing boats as they weave through the water. To my right, the bustling city that always seems to be under construction, as Mwanza is prided as the “fastest growing city in East Africa”. Behind me lay the slums on the hills. Homes made of mud and stone with tin roofs held down by heavy rocks. No windows, no doors. I learned from the women Ruben and I were talking to at the kitchen that it is quite usual for 10 families to share a single pit in the ground for a toilet, and where the only source of water is skimmed from the surface of the ground after it rains, or carried up the hills from the lake. To my left lay Capri Point, the “Beverly Hills” of Mwanza. As I sit my mind became void of thought then trailed as I tried to think of where I fit. After awhile, I got up to stretch, then sat down to write some cards for my family members and friends back home, then buried myself in a good book.

That evening I talked to my sister on the phone. It was so good to hear her voice as this was the first time we had spoke in over a month. In Mwanza I see how important and close family members are to one another. The social safety net of extended family often keeps me afloat in tough times. It often makes me miss home a lot, while at the same time, makes me so thankful to have found such stimulating, genuine friends here.

On Sunday morning Tara and I headed to Forever Angels. We spent the majority of the afternoon with the kids. Every time I looked over at Tara the grin on her face fit right in with that of the children she was surrounded by. Tara spent some time talking with the some of the long term volunteers at the orphanage and was able to learn more about the facilities. She was also able to hear some of the stories of the children at the baby home. I took her over to the wall of pictures which shows each infant or toddler upon their arrival at their new and hopefully temporary home. I am going to post a link to the Forever Angles website on my blog for those who are interested in more information. Below I have borrowed a picture from Tara’s collection.