Silver Bells and Next To Normal

Please don't think that my husband is boring or my son and daughters freaks (hmm maybe--or shits--definitely not)

One of my favorite but nearly forbidden activities is to go to Broadway shows, good Broadway shows. There is something about them that is different than any other show in any other venue. Most of the theatres are small, and regardless of your seat (except extreme side seats) are good, Mezzanine and Orchestra….well pretty much dreams. You don’t have to see many of these shows in any venue to note that the actors pay attention to the orchestra seated persons, and the balcony get the bottom of heads. That being said, on Broadway, the faces are clear, the movements viewable, and even perhaps the few mistakes more obvious.

I don’t often have an extreme hankering for a show, but “Next to Normal” had become a bit of a passion. The score is nearly flawless, the potential amazing. Thus, when my daughter called to say that it was closing at the end of the year, I immediately began looking at my schedule and checking out the frequent flyer potential to make sure that this Patricia found her way to NYC and into that theatre. An extra bonus of course is that 3 of my kids live there and seeing them, especially in their digs is a treat.

Chrissy and Kate and Isaiah and I had drinks and dinner at a restaurant very conveniently located to the theatre, where I had had the wonderful experience of spilling an entire bottle of red wine all over the floor the previous visit when Jude Law was sitting in a booth directly next to us. In fairness to me, I don’t think it was my fault, but there we go, it was my elbow.

On this occasion, all went well. We had a wait, but it was fun, and fun to talk with the kids. I had been with Chris for about an hour prior in the freezing windy cold, shopping for potential Christmas gifts OUTDOORS, before retreating into a high-end mall not far from the restaurant. I had requested two Dali sketches and Chris one or two sculptures, and we enjoyed the moment with the Holiday lights and the Dali Sketches around us.

Dinner was fine, great to be with family….and then the show. Very sad that it should be closing as it is a real gem. The venue is perfect in small theatre, and great staging. It is both funny and tragic, and real. And the score is a dream. Since I am a Sondheim fanatic, and this is hardly Sondheim, I am really giving in to a change. One of the finer things about the experience was having an actress daughter on either side leaning forward watching every move from the stage. Both of them had seen the original cast; thus I was eager to hear comparisons. Agreed by both, the originals were very different, but neither was “better”, just different. They were pleased.

This is a tough show. There is more pain than most, and many of us have experienced something similar, though loss of a child needlessly is particularly chilling when it might have been avoided if you knew just enough to fight the system. Most of us don’t know how, but that only makes the loss more difficult from which to heal. “Next To Normal” boldly looks at this tragedy, the “invisibility” of the surviving child, and the pain and dysfunction of the family as a result of it all. I like comedy and happy endings. Any one who has worked in AIDS since the early 80’s is definitely a fan of comedy and comic relief. But, when you find a score as beautifully woven as this one, and a story so real that you can feel it…..well there you have it. Put the great actors in place and it should go on.

At some point, I wanted to stand up at the end, and say…”hire my kids. Chris the mother, Kate the daughter…. they know this story. They are talented, they are beautiful singers”. But it is after all Broadway, and the public is fickle, and oh, who listens to a mother anyway.

So, the city sidewalks with all the holiday time will keep loving the feet of my kids tramping down to their many jobs, work out rooms and haunts, and I will continue to watch for fabulous new shows. Seems like you have to find them fast!

World AIDS Day 2010

Jeffrey Wayne Davies never had a memorial service, a funeral, or even the big party we had planned. He died in January 1983, after having been diagnosed with GRID (Gay Related Immune Deficiency) in May, 1982. Jeffrey had been a soul mate through my graduate school years and attended my graduation from social work school at Boston University in 1973. He and a band of nutty Gilbert and Sullivan freaks, some of whom continue to be close friends, had sung and danced our way through the 70's, spent long nights talking and eating at Jeffrey's flat and restaurant 9 Knox Street, and supported each other. Jeffrey gave us this space. Though he had an active social life outside of our world, he was always there for us when we needed him.

While he was dying, though none of the medical establishment at the time would really name "dying", we gathered around, flying in and out of New York or taking time off work in New York, to be at his bedside, to take him home, and to try to make a plan for him. Some of those heroes, Jim and Bill and others are also dead from AIDS, others, Patty Shay, John Youngblood and Albert Sherman, to name a few, fearlessly cared for Jeffrey, and helped him out of the hospital against medical advice for his last ride home to Wales where his beloved Aunties waited for him. He lived long enough to say goodbye to his family and was conscious and out of pain at the end of his life, they told us.

Each year at World AIDS Day, I try to remember some aspect of Jeffrey's relationship with me that made a difference in my life. I made that fateful promise to him, that I would continue to be involved in AIDS care until there is a cure; thus, obviously I have had a lot of years of remembering. Perhaps this year, I just want to remember that for such an amazing human being, who was full of faults, full of magnetism, but filled with love, we never had that memorial. And though we have made huge progress towards preventing infection, we still have so many people who are afraid to seek testing and care.

Maybe in 2013 we can celebrate Jeffrey's death and maybe there will be a cure.

THE ROLLER COASTER WORLD

"You can't stop the Beat!" Go Kate Go!

61 and nothing slows down. I cannot speak for the folks who decide to retire and just let the world go by as I might have been one of them had it not been for my kids, friends and husband. Now-the view changes every day.In my last blog, I reflected on my step-daughter’s beautiful wedding and John’s trip to Haiti. Ying/Yang. In this blog, it is Katrina’s success in Hairspray Houston, changing leaves in the mountains, the $10 million Medical Education Partners Initiative award that will take us back to Moshi, the new community initiatives with our CAB, the granddaughter and her determination to be independent, and the struggling recorder practice. Is that enough?

I am exhausted. These kinds of exhaustion are said to keep our brains working; yet, this morning I sat in the car wondering if it were Wednesday or Thursday, and if it were Wednesday, did I have a Ryan White meeting, or was it on Thursday, and if it were Thursday, did I miss the Ryan White meeting, did I have a lunch “date”, and how did I miss a fundraising meeting? Most of my family would agree that I have always had a bit of mix up in the brain area, especially around dates, times and events; but this one seemed significant.

Since I couldn’t resolve the issue at hand—Wednesday or Thursday, I spent a moment thinking about the past week. A crazed spontaneous flight to Houston and return back to NC in 36 hours included seeing Katrina in Hairspray and spending the night at a best friend of a best friend’s house. Katrina was awesome as Tracy, and her leading cast was as well. In the theatre, on the plane and in the car, I thought about what brought Katrina to Hairspray. There was a cell phone call from Katrina as I was walking to my car from work in 2003. “Mom, if I took a break from college, what would you think?” Well, I thought I would kill her, but managed to say, “what do you mean?” The conversation went from there. This spunky girl had managed over multiple auditions to get the attention of the producers of Hairspray, and they took a virtual unknown to Toronto to start what would be several years as Tracy. I remembered cleaning out her dorm room in a blizzard, meeting with her program director at school who had a much more glowing look at this girl than he had had even a year earlier. I remembered the tears, the bitterness, she had felt many times and the joy that she had and has every time she sings. It was quite a night for me to section her off for a few hours from the rest of the family and think about our life together and apart. It also made me feel incredibly nostalgic and not a little bit old.
Best Friend Austin and Katrina
A lucky exhausted bedraggled mom with equally exhausted Katrina and Austin after the show
My fav outfit-the Prison outfit, but sadly missing the prison keds tennis shoes.
So, thank heavens just a day after getting home, we dashed to the mountains and watched the leaves change right in front of our eyes. From no color to lots of color in 36 hours. Amazing. And nostalgic. Soon it will be the 12th anniversary of my mother’s death, and just past the 10th anniversary of my father’s. Both loved the mountains, and though mother never saw the completed house, she was thrilled that we were building a retreat that would give us quiet and peace.
The trusty maple tree below the cabin
A view from the cabin
Our great dream cabin
As we watched the leaves, we thought about the huge grant that was just awarded to KCMC, and that will take us back to Moshi for several months a year. As John toiled day after day writing, editing, re-writing, contacting key players all around the school and the world, and working diligently with KCMC leadership, he continued to say, “This is an incredible long shot”. When the grant was submitted, he looked at me and said, “That was the best that I could do.” The grant was funded, the work now begins. Will the grant be successful? What is the meaning of success in the impoverished world of Northern Tanzania? As I listen to the work that now goes on, the promises of support from our colleagues, and friends in the US and in Moshi, it is a bit awesome. And, I cannot wait to see friends and breathe in Tanzania as we walk out of the plane. And, to see Carol waiting when we come out of customs!
Colleagues who helped with the grant + our beloved Congressman David Price
Carol enjoying Arusha National Park
Perhaps the most difficult part of focusing again on Moshi, is watching my granddaughter grow and demand independence, and in watching our AIDS Community Advisory Board branch out into areas that we had not thought about doing before, and doing it well.
Miss Independence Lyri drives her car!
Jacquie works her magic.
Little Lyri wants to do everything herself. Soon enough, she will come to find that she will have to depend on others for something, and learn about working together. That is our experience, all of ours. As Tracy and Link say, “It takes two of us, it takes two.”

Hopefully, at the end of the day, I will be able to play a low F on the bass recorder and a high D and E on the alto recorder. That would make the Feathered Fipple reprise just a bit better. (and keep SWMBO from yelling at me).

Sometimes the Difficult Overshadows the Beautiful—This time NO-Way!

I often find myself so immersed in the “social service” mentality, which for me translates something like, there are so many terrible injustices in the world that I cannot totally remove myself and enjoy the beautiful things in life. I am constantly in that state in Moshi. The mountain is beautiful as is the land around, but the people are so poor and in need. Constant friction.

In the last two weeks, my lovely step-daughter Julia married a delightful young Charles in a wedding that was just perfect, and John went to Haiti to work with two clinics in helping to identify more resources for their patients. Oh my, what a clash of culture, poverty, wealth and need versus happiness.

My vow is that I will try to complain less, and my vow is to hold the joyful moments of Julia’s wedding, in their own right hope for the future.

Julia chose her wedding dress from the “Breast Cancer Research” organization that had traveled to North Carolina. It was lovely, perfect for her, and a testimonial to the work of this organization. Charles and Julia had worked tirelessly on their new (old) house and yard. With the help of friends, they had renovated kitchen and family room space, plumbed kitchen and bathroom space, repainted every wall, culled Craig’s list for furniture and plants, added a beautiful stone façade to the front walk, planted, weeded and watered. Charles, bless his heart and thank goodness he has a strong one, crawled under the house with those horrible hoppy cricket spiders to drag the new plumbing pipes to their new locations. Yet both smiled as each project finished. In the middle of all this, they picked fruit everywhere including the mountain house where apples, raspberries, blueberries and cherries produced a plethora of fruit this year. And they canned it all and made special little gifts of jam for each person who attended the wedding. Each had a little note attached.

All our family but Nana and Jim made it, and we really missed them. It was heroic work for all to make it from Rochester, Ontario (NY), Houston, NYC, Potomac, and Providence in time. Some funny highlights of the wedding were when KJ walked down the sidewalk and put the ring pillow over his head so that he couldn’t be seen and John showing James and Alex his expertise at tapping the keg and having it blow up all over him and his suit. Then there was the very touching proud father dancing with his daughter and randomly the music for the dance was John’s dad’s favorite song, “Somewhere Over the Rainbow”. The emotion of that moment reduced many who knew the story of the song to tears.

There were certain people who had arrived from out of town who were begging for a trip to the Q-shack, and low and behold, it was Q-shack BBQ served for dinner! Pies, Pies, Pies, and the surprise wedding cake baked by big sister Maya and her husband.

Friends were made and solidified, and this wedding brought them together. What a cherished time.

As for Haiti, we all need to remember that there is acute suffering there. Little has been done to rebuild because of the politics of the country, and suffering continues. John reports that more than 1.5 million people live in tents, including one of the physicians and his family at the Family Health Ministries program in Leogane.


Deforestation, homes in rubble, streets in rubble, people not paid for over 3 months, not enough food, medicines, work….all recipes for disaster, yet these amazing people keep working and keep making it all work. How do they do it? I don’t know!

So, I am going to keep the wedding in my heart and mind, and think of all the possibilities that can come from loving, gentle relationships. And all the good that comes when people love one another. Sometimes these memories make us stronger when it comes to the “social service mode”, and makes that work much easier to do, and to keep doing.

The People At the End of the Road

MOSHI Land of Love Land of Beauty Land of Poverty

I have been struggling for a way to present a plea for support, and I still am at a loss. Part of the reason for my difficulty is that I have been so focused on the Moshi school children supported by KIWAKKUKI, that I never thought about the college aged children. What happens when the secondary school finishes and these young orphans manage to pass their exams and enter college. College is simply unattainable for most Tanzanians, and particularly so for an orphan who receives no support from any family member. Yet, is this not the aim of our school programs? What happens when we have a bright young person who supports other siblings, but who cannot continue in school because of fees. There is no such thing as a student loan like we have in the United States. Only if a boy scores in Division I at the end of the year will he be eligible for some amount of scholarship assistance, a girl Level I or II. What happens when you barely miss these levels, but your desire to pursue your degree is great? I just finished Greg Mortenson's second book "Stones for Schools" and have been moved once again by the power of his words. They particularly strike a chord with me because his father was one of the key builders of KCMC hospital, and his family were great friends of our dear friends, The Emmanuel's of Machame and Moshi.

So, I feel that "six degrees of seperation, and have read his books and taken heart in his words.

He quotes from “The Little Prince” by Antoine de Saint-Exupéry, “It is only with the heart that one can see rightly; What is essential is invisible to the eye.” And he talks about listening. Listen to your community and listen to their needs. Whose agenda is this anyway? I have often said of KIWAKKUKI and other NGO’s that they have to follow the funding sources regardless of whether they are exactly what the membership of the organization had requested. An example to the contrary, that of providing the service that the membership had requested is our mobile voluntary counseling and testing. This request goes as far back as 2006, and finally it is actively occurring, at least in some of the districts.

So, when I was presented with a new young man on the last trip, my heart broke again. As Verynice said to me, “we supported him all the way through secondary school and he has done well. He walked 5 kilometers to see you when he heard that you were in town. He has no bus fare, and no food. We often let him help here to earn bus fare and a bag of corn meal for his siblings. Is there anything you can do?”

Because I have no answer for this young man, with his permission, I have typed his story for you and share his picture (with me and my short Alpesh hair cut)


My name is Peter Ancelim Amani. I am the second born in the family of four children with 1 sister and two brothers. I was born on 21st February 1989. It happened that I was born in a very poor family. My father is a tailor who lives in Moshi Rural in Kilimanjaro, Tanzania. His income/day is less than 1 US dollar.

My mother did involve herself in subsistence farming and from this we got food and clothes. We have suffered many problems. When my sister was young, she suffered from measles. Due to the poverty of the family, she failed to attend the hospital for treatment and the measles caused blindness in one eye.

I started my primary school education in 1996 and finished in 2002. At this time, I had government support for education and we had to contribute very little. to make up the difference in school fees. However, at the time, my mother worked in a Shamba and it was her subsistence farming that allowed her to pay for my school fees.

Despite the fact that she was working in the Shamba, she also was suffering from frequent illnesses, though at the time I was young and didn’t wonder what the reasons were for these illnesses. She was advised by some neighbors to be checked out by the hospital because her health was deteriorating and it was then that she discovered that she was HIV-infected. When she disclosed her condition to my father, he was tested but found out to be negative.

Hardships in our lives increased after her discovery of being HIV-infected. I was the eldest in the family and therefore responsible for the care of my mother, and then my father separated from my mother because of the humiliation that she was HIV-infected. She was the one forced out of the house, and she decided to rent a room near us in order to see us when she could and when we could see her. And, it was during this time that I was first unable to get school fees. I thank God that I was smart in the class, and the head teacher offered me a scholarship to study for free after he learned what was happening in our home.

My mother was allowed back in the house when she became very weak. At this time I was in primary grade 5. On Wednesday, May 9th 2001 she passed away. Though it was very hard, I found the courage to go on with school until I finished my primary education in 2002.

I did very well with my primary school examination and I was selected to join the St. James Seminary for ordinary level secondary education (2003-2006). School fees for secondary are high, ten times higher than primary level. Because I knew that I didn’t have this kind of money, I started to lose hope of going on with school and tried to think of what I could do to raise income for my smaller brothers and sister. Fortunately, one of the neighbors came to me and took me to KIWAKKUKI to speak to the orphan’s department. The officers there took the time to listen to me and to verify my story, and they then agreed to pay for my school fees.

The help from KIWAKKUKI assisted me to finish my ordinary secondary school, where I did my national exam and did very well. Thus, I was selected to attend Galanos Secondary High School for Advanced Level Education. The school fees were approximately the same, and therefore KIWAKKUKI continued to support me. I finished my advanced degree in February 2009, passed my exams well and was selected to attend University.

I am now at the Moshi University College of Co-operative and Business Studies (MUCCoBS) taking a Bachelor of Arts and Microfinance and Enterprises Development. (BA-MFED) My registration number is BA-MFED/06/09.

Throughout the time I have been in school, I have wanted to become a business entrepreneur, and had thought about the different activities in which I could be come involved. This has been ever since I was a young child. But life has become much more difficult now. University fees, accommodation and meals are all very expensive. I joined the university in October 2009 and have finished the first year. However, I was only able to pay 15% of the first year as that is the maximum that KIWAKKUKI can donate. The university fees and expenses are above KIWAKKUKI’s budget for one person.

In order for me to go on with my studies in October this year I am supposed to pay for the remainder of last year and at least 40% of next year.

I am writing this story with a lot of tears, asking anyone who might listen or think that they can help me. I beg your assistance your advice, your courage and anything that you might find to assist me. Education is the only think that I have now, and my only hope to save my family. My father is gone, we don’t know where, and I am the final one who is expected to help out.

Yours

Peter Ancelim Amani
Amani_p@yahoo.com


These are the direct words of a young man who came to KIWAKKUKI to discuss ways of budgeting his college years. He lives in the Rau Ward of Moshi Urban, and walked about 5 miles to KIWAKKUKI because he didn’t have bus fare home. I am told that when he comes to KIWAKKUKI, he always offers to help clean or move heavy furniture or do odd jobs without even knowing whether or not he will receive any donation.

I am always impressed with the sincerity and work ethic that these young people have regarding school. This is something that we take for granted here. Primary and High School are free and there are loans and scholarships available for those persons with very low incomes. That is not the case here in Tanzania. In order to qualify for any assistance outside of non-governmental organizations, a young man has to score a grade level 1 on final exams at the college level, a young woman 1 or
2. (More young men are in school at this time than women). But here, is a young man who not only attends school but has to take care of his 3 younger siblings, one of whom has a disability due to the blindness in one eye. It almost seems impossible that he can succeed. Very few programs assist with University, especially when the father is alive, even if he is unwilling or unable to be located.

So I am writing this to ask for help for this young man. There are ways to donate to his school. One would be to donate directly to KIWAKKUKI using his name for college fees. (this way is fine except that it is not tax deductible because KIWAKKUKI is not a tax exempt organization recognized by the US Government. However, there are two other funds that are recognized and can take donations that can be sent directly for his assistance.

Global Connections For Change is a tax exempt organization in North Carolina that is connected with Duke University. All proceeds go to KIWAKKUKI. As well, the Duke CAB/Moshi Fund is another tax exempt code within Duke University that wires any designated money to Moshi for who ever we know is being sponsored.

The address for Global Connections is:
Global Connections for Change
PO Box 51162
Durham, NC 27717
globalconnections4change@gmail.com

For the Duke Fund is:
Duke/Moshi CAB Fund
Partners-In-Caring
Box 3112 DUMC
Durham, NC 27710
Attn: Artie Hendricks

You may also contact me at my gmail account-patricia.bartlett@gmail.com
As you can see, this is a dedicated man, and one who will do anything to help himself and his family. I hope you will offer help.

Thanks

Kilimanjaro Chapter 4

Moshi A Land of Love, A Land of Beauty, A Land of Poverty, A Land of Hope

Chapter 4 Duke/KCMC Alive and Well

The purpose of our trip was to greet the Moshi Duke Engage Students, hear their presentations, meet with the Duke/KCMC staff and KCMC staff, and last but certainly not in that order, to meet the new Executive Director of KCMC Moshi Ntabaye. With such a short trip, this seemed a tall task. Fortunately, I am married to one of the most efficient people probably in the world. Even with TIA, Vodacom issues, poor e-mail, and John’s cell phone not working for most of the trip, we managed to fit in dinners, lunches, meetings, and listen to challenges. We covered the spectrum from happy times at Mkulima, meeting “Dr. Annie’s” baby Thomas, and Elizabeth an excited parent to be, watching the slide presentations of the Duke Engage Students, a friendly dinner with Professor Shao, dinner with the Difenthals, and John spending productive time with the new exciting Executive Director for KCMC, Moshi Ntabaye.



(our new Executive Director Moshi Ntabaye)
Mkulima is a highlight every time we come to Moshi and the crowd was there. I think the owner is getting to know the name “Duke”, as our crowds are a regular occurrence there when we are fortunate enough to be in Tanzania. I’m told that that is one of the first things that people think when they hear that Prof JAB is on his way back.


Annie’s little Thomas is adorable. He is engaging and interactive. Keep your fingers crossed for the adoption hearing at the end of August! And Elizabeth is looking forward to…maybe a girl???? We had a wonderful dinner with Annie, Elizabeth, Coletta, John and me at one of our favorite restaurants…El Rancho ( the Indian Restaurant).

Pizza night is not the same, but the Difenthal's have continued the tradition and we love it!

One of the most special things for us to do is to go to Greg’s parent’s farm and walk the crops. Unfortunately, Sylvie and Nick were tending to the house in Pangani, but we had a great lunch, conversation and walked the farm with Greg. What a beautiful place. I think it is as nearly heaven on earth as our house in the mountains. Thank you Greg, and Nick and Sylvie (though absent!).



Our trip to Moshi ended much too early. On the next to last day, Rose came to work with the most fabulous weave. Suddenly our housekeeper morphed into a teenager. She is a blessing to us and we are very lucky!

I cannot wait to return.

Chapter 3 KIWAKKUKI

Chapter 3 KIWAKKUKI Hold Your Breath
Some of the KIWAKKUKI staff at lunch with John and me.
KIWAKKUKI is always a “hold your breath” moment. Something is always happening, but you don’t know what it will be until you walk in the door. Will there be workshops and everyone gone? Will there be people on leave? Will there be a grant deadline and you are suddenly the one who has to edit and send? What will it be? This visit was a mixture. All the bags of shoes and clothes that we dragged through Europe, overweight as they were, made it in tact to our A-5 home. Once five bags were divvied up, it seemed so small! As my dada (sister) Verynice made piles for the 7 districts I thought—well every district will get at least 4 T-shirts, 1 hoodie, 3 pair of tennis shoes, ½ pr of boys shoes, 3 pair of girls shoes, 2 pair of jeans, 2 small dresses, 2 large dresses. Wow-I think. How did those huge bags become so small? As I was unpacking the bags, I learn that one of my favorite projects is coming to a stunning grinding halt. The economy has caused the Spanish Government to pull the plug on Life and Living. This was a program that moved KIWAKKUKI beyond HIV alone towards helping young people learn about how to have sustainable work, the value of work, clean water, growing food, while at the same time teaching prevention and issues about delaying sex and HIV/TB. Yet, this program suddenly ends and all the staff will be given notices. These guys are dedicated, top notch young people who loaded up the car with materials day after day, and went to schools and meeting places to work with clubs and district and ward leaders to bring groups and clubs together to plan sustainable, healthy lives, pulled whoosh! Did I see tears from these workers? No, they are hopeful that something will happen. Surely it will, because they have really given their hearts to this project. Yet there is something distinctly East African in saying, “If God wills it”.
(Lydia begs Eunice for money!)

My dada and I headed out to the rural hills to find sweet Jacinta and the head master of her school who had taken her into his family to live. It was a dusty day as usual & we had near death experiences with speeding trucks and dala dalas.

It is Wednesday afternoon school sports day in Kirua and "football" is the place to be.

It is Market day in Kirua and people have been drinking mbege (banana beer) as they sell their corn and bananas and millet.
(I had never seen millet on the plant)
We tread carefully. We arrive at the school hopeful to find Jacinta and the headmaster with whom she lives, but we find that his wife had died just this morning, and he had gone home with Jacinta. After pondering carefully, we decided that we knew the headmaster well enough to pay respects.

What did I expect of this headmaster’s house. He runs a small private school. He always looks immaculately dressed. I expected a Shantytown fancy house. What we found was a small house down a long steep path (only on foot) that was mostly sticks and mud that had one small cinderblock area with a small living room, two rooms off from that. Outdoor toilets, some other living rooms with stick and mud. Our headmaster looked as if he had lost 20 lbs. He sat with another friend on the traditional stools outside. From inside came the wails of his oldest daughter who had stayed at KCMC for the last night with her mother. Dada Monyo and I did our best to express our condolences. We heard the story of the death of a dear wife and mother. We heard from this wonderful man, the conversation with the KCMC doctor who offered the family the possibility of letting the wife go without pain. For many families, agreeing to pain management rather than treatment is impossible. This man loved his wife enough to let her go. Wow. We brought Jacinta up the hill to talk to her. She looked great. She was sad, but said that she loved school and loved being with new friends and being able to be a teenager, not a wife. (You might remember from previous blogs, that Jacinta had run away from her grandfather’s home after she found that as soon as she graduated from Primary School at the age of 12, she had been sold to be married to an old man.) The whole trip was one of sadness and hope.


As we moved down the mountain to visit Judith, we found another situation altogether. We met with Judy’s grandmother, an aunt and two children in a desolated area of immense poverty down another long footpath. Judith had just left and her grandmother didn’t know where. When we reached her mother, we learned that Judy had been sick repeatedly and had to stop going to school because she was getting so far behind. Now it will be impossible for her to pass her exams, she will have to repeat. Additionally, her CD4 count has dropped below 200 and she has been sick off and on. Their house fell during the rainy season, and they have been allowed to live in one small room with the grandmother-4 of them while her mother tries to support the family by selling used clothes and shoes.

Judy had gone to Arusha to stay for a short while with a relative who could offer her a warmer place to stay, but she could only be there for a week or two at the most and would return. She waited for us to come until the last dala dala left for Arusha and thought we wouldn’t be coming. Of course, she couldn’t have known about the tragedy just above her in Kirua. We talked to Judy’s mother about the need for Judy to start going to the Child Centered Family Care Center at KCMC and to return to school even for catch up. We made a plan that she should repeat her grade so that she could pass her exams, and have faith that she is cared for by her donors Kathy and Candy. Her mother sent her huge thanks for our visit, even though we weren’t able to talk to Judy. We were unable to take any pictures because we were right beside the mosque, and would give a bad perception to the worshipers.

(Judith in better days)
We returned from our trip, weary, sad, disappointed, and worried. Will Jacinta be able to remain at the headmaster’s now that his wife has died or will it “look” bad. Will the headmaster return to his position? This happy joyful young woman has no idea of the potential pain lying ahead. Will Judy’s family get a new roof for their sticks and mud house? Will Judy actually go to KCMC? How can she improve her CD4 count, go to school and stay healthy?

KIWAKKUKI has hundreds of these children, each with their own stories. I can only be involved with a few. It is a privilege and a curse. As a social worker for more than 30 years, I have seen my share of misery and tragedy, what KIWAKKUKI adds to my portfolio, is a little more understanding of the human condition.