I am back in Africa. Just when I think life here is not so much different than my life back home, reality smacks me upside the head again, or I should say the heart again.
After a whirlwind 6 weeks in USA, visiting family friends supporters, speaking to churches schools small groups community groups, staying at 12 different places in 27 days, I was looking forward to getting back to normal in my new life in South Africa.
Today I joined a gym on my lunch break. It is bright and shiny with all the latest exercise equipment. It is going to be just like my old routine in Aptos, CA - use the elliptical for cardio and go to pilates class.
I was very excited about my new gym, the new healthy body I would soon have, and the new red backpack they gave me for signing up.
I was having a good day. With an email to Zambia, I paid the school fees for a 16 year old boy who didn’t think he would be able to go to high school. After lunch, Christo and I drove out to Soshanguve and delivered gas tanks to the two orphan centers there so they could continue to cook hot meals on the gas stove. We brought worksheets for the children to practice English and math (drawn up by a seven year old girl in California, thank you Mia Karina!) We made plans to have a future Art & Craft day at both centers. We drove away, happy for the little part we get to play.
On the way back to the office, a different route took us past the cemetery in the township of Soshanguve. The huge mounds of earth, from dozens of new grave sites dug each day, spoke louder than any statistics on the effects of AIDS in South Africa. Christo pointed out a tree in the middle and said to the right of the tree is the children’s section. I should have known better but I asked him to pull over. Why do they have a separate section for children? In America, family members would be buried next to each other. I am not sure I want to know the answer to this question. The possible answers are all too depressing to contemplate.
I am at a loss to describe the feelings you have when you are looking at rows of tiny little mounds of dirt, knowing each one is the grave of a child. And they are fresh piles. So many little ones buried in one day, how can that be?
Most of the parents cannot afford gravestones, so the mounds are marked with sticks and paper, like marking the rows of a garden. Or with a little bit of money, they can buy a thin metal sign, like we use for garage sales or real estate. Some of the children’s things adorn the graves - bottles, tippy cups, baby food jars. The smiling faces of teddy bears sitting on top of a child’s grave sets off a disconnect inside of me. I am still struggling to process this…
After a whirlwind 6 weeks in USA, visiting family friends supporters, speaking to churches schools small groups community groups, staying at 12 different places in 27 days, I was looking forward to getting back to normal in my new life in South Africa.
Today I joined a gym on my lunch break. It is bright and shiny with all the latest exercise equipment. It is going to be just like my old routine in Aptos, CA - use the elliptical for cardio and go to pilates class.
I was very excited about my new gym, the new healthy body I would soon have, and the new red backpack they gave me for signing up.I was having a good day. With an email to Zambia, I paid the school fees for a 16 year old boy who didn’t think he would be able to go to high school. After lunch, Christo and I drove out to Soshanguve and delivered gas tanks to the two orphan centers there so they could continue to cook hot meals on the gas stove. We brought worksheets for the children to practice English and math (drawn up by a seven year old girl in California, thank you Mia Karina!) We made plans to have a future Art & Craft day at both centers. We drove away, happy for the little part we get to play.
On the way back to the office, a different route took us past the cemetery in the township of Soshanguve. The huge mounds of earth, from dozens of new grave sites dug each day, spoke louder than any statistics on the effects of AIDS in South Africa. Christo pointed out a tree in the middle and said to the right of the tree is the children’s section. I should have known better but I asked him to pull over. Why do they have a separate section for children? In America, family members would be buried next to each other. I am not sure I want to know the answer to this question. The possible answers are all too depressing to contemplate.
I am at a loss to describe the feelings you have when you are looking at rows of tiny little mounds of dirt, knowing each one is the grave of a child. And they are fresh piles. So many little ones buried in one day, how can that be?
Most of the parents cannot afford gravestones, so the mounds are marked with sticks and paper, like marking the rows of a garden. Or with a little bit of money, they can buy a thin metal sign, like we use for garage sales or real estate. Some of the children’s things adorn the graves - bottles, tippy cups, baby food jars. The smiling faces of teddy bears sitting on top of a child’s grave sets off a disconnect inside of me. I am still struggling to process this…
That is so incredibly depressing! I have attended to funerals for babies in my lifetime. I cannot imagine that many in a day. My heart goes out to all of the families and to you Lisa Poll.
ReplyDeleteStacy Lynn