There is so much to say about the last couple of weeks. I feel like I have lived in Kunya Village for 2 years rather than only 2 months. My last day there was yesterday and it was a tearful goodbye. I didn’t expect to feel as attached to the people in the community as I did when I left. Saying goodbye to one individual in particular was heart wrenching, as I realized that I truly grew to love someone in Kunya.
His name is Tony. He is about 2 years old and the younger brother of Gidi, the boy for whom the day care was started. Tony, too, was found to be severely malnourished when Gidi was taken to the hospital by the other Village Volunteers back in June. I can’t wait for you all to see how healthy, and “fat” he has become in the photos I have taken. He is the most lovable little boy.
Tony and I developed our own special language, as neither one of us was adept at speaking Luo. Our conversations often consisted of me saying his name and him responding with a noise that sounded like “eh,” to which I would repeat his name and he the noise over and over again until we were both giggling. One of his favorite games was to run head first into my long skirt, grabbing my knees and laughing. Then, he would look up at me, reach toward my hands and that was the signal for me to pick him up. He loved to be carried and cuddled. He probably hasn’t received this much affection since his mother died over six months ago.
When Tony’s father heard that his 2-year-old son was one of my favorite people in the village, he asked the day care teacher, Rosemary, why. She told him that I love Tony because he is fat and smart (well-dressed), the latter of which is utterly ridiculous because Tony wore the same two or three slightly stained and torn outfits for the past 2 months. I think Rosemary simply knew these reasons would make Tony’s father happy. He accepted this good news with great satisfaction and asked me over to his home for tea the following day. Tony’s father speaks no English, so we simply exchanged greetings and thank you’s, drinking our tea in silence. He seemed pleased with my willingness to visit him and my interest in his children.
Upon leaving his home, he told Rosemary that he wanted to give me a hen in appreciation. I was stunned. I felt as if I had not done anything to deserve such kindness and generosity, particularly from a man who has so little. I wanted to refuse the hen and ask that it be cooked for his children instead but Rosemary told me that he would feel confused and offended if I declined the gift, so I thanked him profusely and promised to send him the photos I had taken of his family.
Another moving experience I have had recently was going with the women in the Mama na Dada support group to Madiany, a town 15 kilometers away from Kunya with a hospital that recently began providing free Voluntary Counseling and Testing for HIV/AIDS. The women who had already tested positive at a VCT clinic in Bondo (1-2 hours by bus from Kunya) were going to register at a closer location, where they can get free multi-vitamins and antibiotics to help keep their immune systems strong. The hospital will soon give out free anti-retroviral therapy drugs to clients but they can only access the free drugs if their white blood cell count is below 200 and getting one’s count involves an expensive visit to the district hospital that most of these women cannot afford. It took these women approximately 2 hours to walk to Madiany in 85-90 degree weather. (Some of these women are in their late fifties and early sixties, which by Kenyan standards is very old, and, keep in mind, they wear flip flops!) I was so impressed.
One woman in her mid-twenties, Pamela, left very early in the morning for Madiany with her 16-month-old son and arrived even before Maura (another volunteer) and I, who opted to take boda bodas (bicycle rides). When we arrived, she was sitting by herself in the waiting area and told us she was waiting for another woman in the support group who had suggested that she come get tested. Pamela is a widow with 5 children. She was the second wife of a man who recently died following the death of his first wife, both of whom were suspected of having AIDS. I asked Pamela if she wanted to wait for Janet, knowing that Janet would not likely arrive for another hour or two, or if she wanted me to help her find out where she could access VCT. She didn’t want to wait and asked me to help her. Hospitals are very intimidating to poor people here and unless you understand the system or are able to pay for care, you don’t necessarily get treatment. I felt like a true advocate.
Once I found where they conducted VCT and tracked down someone who would meet with Pamela, she asked me if I would sit with her during the 1.5 hr. session. I knew that I would probably miss the arrival of the support group but I didn’t want her to feel alone in what was undoubtedly a terrifying process. The meeting was conducted entirely in Luo but it wasn’t difficult to guess what was being explained. When we reached the time for her to receive the test, I became so nervous. I prayed during the 5 minutes it took to complete the test that the results would be negative but they weren’t. The counselor administered another test but it confirmed her positive status. Pamela took the news well but I can’t imagine what goes through one’s mind at that point, even if she suspected she was positive beforehand.
Afterwards, Pamela and I talked about how she could continue to live a long life with proper care and treatment and the importance of taking care of herself so that she could take care of her children. Later, she told Janet that she wanted me to come and do the Memory Box Project with her before I left the village, which was truly an honor.
There have been so many other amazing experiences that I will share upon my return. I am too proud not to mention one of them quickly, which is that my high school girl’s soccer team competed in their first game against the girls in the primary school (8th graders) and won 4-2 in a shoot out. I was literally jumping up and down at the end of the game.
Michelle Henderson
November 2005