I've jumped over the hump

I thought that going back to site after nearly three weeks of being gone would be really difficult and challenging. After eating five times a day, taking three showers a day and socializing constantly, the quiet tranquility of my village was welcoming. I found that the things I thought would be hard to adjust back to (bucket bathing, dust, bugs, heat, cold, language etc) were actually normal and nice to get back into. I was excited to see my colleagues and go back to school. I was welcomed back by many visitors and was so happy to see my family again. I don't know if it's truly that I've adjusted or that I've been here nearly six months or just that I have finally been given back some freedom and control in my life. Whatever the reason, I feel that I have jumped the hoop. I felt that I came home and enjoyed the comforts of my house in the evenings. I think I can say now that I feel truly happy in my village. I realized one night this week, reading people magazine and enjoying licorice sent from home (thanks Laurel) that I love what I'm doing here.

Every day I learn something new and find that I am stunned by this world here. My friend and co worker Joyce came running to me one morning, screeching Lethabo Lethabo! I thought someone had died. I jumped up asking what was wrong. Her eyes were filled with tears as she said, out of breath, "They called. They told her I got it. I got the job!" I covered my mouth and jumped around hugging her. Joyce, who has lost every family member, including her husband and is raising her sisters two kids in addition to her own. Joyce who has been penniless for five months. Joyce, who works every day to treat her TB patients. Who asks me for money so she can go to town and attend HIV workshops for the Home based Care. Joyce, who has been praying to god every morning, afternoon and night for money and for food to feed her children, was offered a job at the Clinic as an HIV/AIDS counselor and will be making a gigantic salary. She and I would walk through the village day in and day out for weeks visiting patients and reciting answers in preparation for her interview. We would go over and over why she should go for it. Why she would be perfect for the job. Over and over, I had to reassure her she is capable of such a job. She would write down every tip she knew, ask questions and practice her answers over and over to ensure perfection. She hitchiked her way to Polokwane to attend an interview, competing against 15 other candidates. And on that sunny bright morning, her calls to god and her prayers were answered. I found myself tearing up at pure happiness for her. Finally, after struggling, she can close her eyes at night knowing she can find comfort in the security this job will provide for her! She said, "My children will go to school Lethabo!"

Poverty here is striking. Unfortunately, Joyce's story is not unusual. Nor is it the worst I've seen or heard. I try to imagine what it would be like... to literally have nothing. No penny in my pocket. For nearly five months, she has not had a cent to her name. The stipen she is meant to receive of R500 from the government for working as a Carer has been stopped, as they are doing throughout the country. The only food in her home has been Pap. If it had run out, there would have been nothing for her. I asked her what she would have done. She said she would have given her children sugar water. I have lived with not much money myself. I've worked jobs where I scrape by, literally week to week, sometimes down to five dollars left. It's the unfortunate consequence of having a passion for people. In the field of social work, I will never be rich. But I can acquire comfort and safety. I have the freedom to go back to school, and can change career paths if I choose. I remember being 14 and my dad said to me, "Just know Rebecca. There is no money in social work. You should think about that." But just like love, you can't choose where your heart takes you. God knows I've tried to escape the world of social services and homeless population. But here I am, serving in South Africa as a volunteer, making nothing at 27 years of age. And yet, I look at Joyce and the countless other names I could write down, knowing I have never come close to living the impoverished life they lead. Despite my own financial struggle, I have a family that would feed me and I have the skills to find jobs. I have worked two before just to pay my bills. But in my struggles, I never feared my paycheck would not come to me. I never feared I would not be able to buy food, or find it elsewhere. My struggle week to week was simply making choices. Such as, Do I buy the expensive cheese or not? Should I go to the Buffalo Gap tonight with friends or not? If I drive to Vancouver tonight, I guess I'll have to fill my car up only half way the rest of this week. Do I buy a new pair of shoes today, or wait until next week when I'm paid. These are my struggles.

Sometimes it makes my stomach turn. My friends here really struggle. I left America not understanding the true freedom I had. It's not just running water, it's warm running water. It's not just a bathroom, it's having toilet paper as well. It's not just buying food, it's the ability to drive to the store any day of the week and choose what food I want. In the midst of the coldest month of the year, I wash my dishes at night feeling my hands go numb. I wear my hat and scarf and jacket at 8pm just as part of my night wear. I see my breath in my house every morning. And then, as if a miracle hit me upside the head, I realized as I was struggling to wash my clothes when I couldn't feel my hands, "why not boil water to wash dishes in?" I was so proud of myself realizing this. I mean, honestly, I boil water to drink, why not do it to wash. So, as I'm fetching water to boil, I see my 18 year old sister, struggling to pass the 9th grade and who doesn't know where Europe is, and tell her, "Hey Luc, if you boil water, it's much easier to wash your clothes that way." She nearly fell to the ground laughing. She said, "You didn't know that!" and walked away. It was not a question. It was a pure statement. And once again, I was brought to my knees, humbled by my stupidity. Something that never would occur to me is just life here. And why would it occur to me that I would need to heat water to simply clean my socks? It's not a part of my thinking. So, I still am learning. And I suppose the easiest thing to do is just laugh at myself.

These are the freedoms that I would never have categorized as such 6 months ago. But they are also luxuries that I don't need. I really love that I am living this way and surviving. And happy. it is opening my eyes in such ways that I never dreamed of. I can't help but think, who am I to complain of bucket baths. Or having a lack of transport. Who am I to feel sorry for myself when I feel lonely or isolated. Get over yourself. Does it really matter in the sceme of things. Who cares that my skin is terrible or that my hair falls out in clumps. This is a life I have CHOSEN for a mere 2 years time. I don't even have that anymore. Next week I'll have been here for 6 months! I have 18 months left. And at the end, I can travel and go home to all the comforts that I once lived. That is my destiny. That is my life. It's a fact. And I wake up in the morning seeing the changes I'm making. I know I am making a difference. It hit me hard when I came back from being gone for so long. I want to throw my entire purpose into creating something here. I didn't come across the world to do nothing. It's my chance to do something! It's a blessing I have been given to do so. So, in watching Joyce dance around, I felt a change in myself. A moment captured in time where her eyes will forever be ingrained in my memory. While I have the satisfaction in knowing this is merely a time frame in my life, this is Joyce's whole life. She will never leave the village. So I had best give it 150% while I am here. If I am to go back to the luxury of washing machines and indoor plumbing, I had better dedicate my heart and soul to this village. I don't mind working 7 days a week, walking hours on end to have a meeting. I don't mind at all wearing a coat at night or running through mass cows. This is life. This is how most people in the world survive. I think that landing here in this country is what I am meant to be doing. It's unique and if I do nothing more with my life, at least I am doing something now.