The Last Days...

Right when it is time to fill out all of the reflections, evaluations, and finish my papers, I am suddenly mentally exhausted and have lost the inspiration to write.

I think that a large part of that is that these last days have been filled with goodbyes, gifts, parties, notes, and just an overwhelming realization that my time here is coming to a close.

On Monday, one of the Rabbis and I finished the concept note for a grant to the EU!!! It felt like such an accomplishment. He said that it was the first EU grant they had ever completed, because they are SO much work. We both stayed late and went early the next day, but we cranked it out. It would be fabulous if they got the grant, and I am thankful for having had the experience of writing it.

The same day, the staff and Rabbis for Human Rights threw me a little goodbye party. Working there has been one of my very favorite life experiences, so it is I who thank them. I'll write more about my overall reflection about my internship later.

Yesterday was my last day with the Bedouin teachers - it was actually very emotional for me. I took one of my friends with me - she is going to take over the classes when I am gone, which I am so thankful for. It feels good to be able to hand of these lessons to someone else who I know will do a fantastic job. I didn't want to abandon these ladies after they have opened up to me so much. I took with me a couple of scholarship applications for one of the teachers there. She is just a standout - I saw something special in her the very first minute I met her. She is someone who no matter how difficult a situation she lived in, she would excel. It has been hard for her though, she has enormous amounts of ambition in a society that is patriarchal and that makes it very difficult for a woman, especially a young woman, to follow their passions if they fall outside of the realm of what is considered socially acceptable. People talk about her behind her back, and her family puts enormous pressure on her to get married and settle down. Though life would probably be even more difficult for her if she wins one of these scholarships, it would give her the opportunity to travel and pursue her passions. She a leader, naturally, and she could do anything she put her mind to if given the opportunity. The teacher who is taking over my classes will be working with her to fill out the scholarship applications, and God willing, someday this Refugee Bedouin teacher will be changing the world.

This note was from her, and it is now one of my most prized possessions:

I have not known you so much yet, but Really I have Learned a lot of things from you. and I will never forget person like you. A good, neat, kind, funny person like Haley will never be forgetten easily.......
I appreciate everything you did for me. I appriciate your generosity in giving me the hope to continoue during the time I feel I need to stop.
Haley, Be sure. there is someone in Palestine called --- loves you. I just wrote there words there is no time and if there is more time I'll would write you many thing to say I love you... I'll miss you. Remember Jerusalem Palestin.

What a phenomenal experience I have had here. I am kind of bewildered to think that it is coming to a close! Where did it all come from, and how in the world is it over?

Today is a holiday (Purim) so, no work. I am going with a friend to Ramallah, finally. And tomorrow - I leave for Egypt. Then back here for a day or two, and then... back to Denver. I'll arrive on the 22nd, and classes for the next quarter start at 9am on the 23rd. Eek.

So many things to catch up on in this journal/blog - but it will have to wait.
Hope you all are having a wonderful week.
If you are in Denver, start preparing some Mexican food, because I am close to being on my way...

The Bedouin School

Yesterday was an especially wonderful day with the Bedouin Teachers. Each Tuesday, I take an Arab bus across the border into the West bank city of al-Azarya. I get off where I see the slab rocks piled, I walk past the vegetable shop, up the hill, and toward a multi-level building that has tires piled out front.

This is the school.

I walk inside, and I can hear children yelling, doors slamming, teachers teaching. I wait in the office area, which doubles as the nursery for the teachers' infants and toddlers. I usually arrive around noon, but it is only about 1 by the time that the teachers have ushered out their student, fed their babies, and are ready to start any sort of a lesson.

These women are Bedouins, born as refugees. Their fathers and grandfathers were herders, and their families were nomadic until the 1948 war, when everything changed for them.

They call this war Al Nakba - the Disaster.

Israelis call it the war of Independence.

Either way, since this war their families have no longer been nomads, they have been refugees.
Most of the teachers cannot enter Jerusalem - they have a Green Pass. Some of them have family there they will never meet.

The teachers all wear a hijab, a head covering, and some of them wear a face covering as well, where only their eyes are visible. They keep this on as long as the older children and men are in and out of the building, but when my 'class' starts, they pull up their face coverings.

The first time this happened, my eyes teared up, and I was honored.

These women's lives amaze me.

Every time we start class, they sit attentively, pen and paper on their desk, looking to me to teach them English, to offer teaching advice, to tell them what it is like in America.

I am becoming a better teacher. The first day I stumbled and bumbled. The second day, I realized they thought I knew what I was doing. The third day, I became a teacher.

Each time, they open up a bit more, ask more questions - though they have never been afraid to ask 'racy' ones. The first day of class, when I asked if they had any questions (thinking they would ask me something about the grammar lesson I had just given), the first one was:
"Was there really a pregnant man in America?"

The second one: "Where did his parts come from?"

And the third: "Why are there gays in America?"

Do you see why I was stumbling and bumbling?

The second day of class they wanted to know about my engagement ring, (I just wear a silver band here), how I could travel alone as a woman, and if I really had a laptop computer and a driving license.

Tuesday, they wanted to know why I was wearing so little clothing (I had on jeans, a t-shirt and a sweater), if I wore a bikini when I went swimming and did the men stare, and why Americans thought they were all terrorists.

They wanted to tell me more about being a woman in Palestine, so they asked that their writing assignment for that week be about that - and we will discuss it more next week.

They made sure, though, before even starting, that I knew that they covered their hair and faces by choice, and that it was a good thing. I smiled and asked them to teach me how to wrap my hair in a scarf next week, and this was a very exciting prospect that led to a lot of laughter.

Working with these teachers is becoming my very favorite part of the week.

My precious Bedouin babies

Last Wednesday I went with a human rights worker, Nitsa, out to a Bedouin school. Nitsa teaches Hebrew at the school each Wednesday and took me with her to make some contacts and to see if I could set up some sort of conversation group with the teachers.

I had the most wonderful morning - I spent most of my time talking to one of the teachers, who is 22. She was one of the only people there who could speak English easily, and she was SO excited to talk with me. It turns out that she visited the US a couple of years ago on a language -learning scholarship through BYU - go figure! Her impressions of Utah, Mormons, and the USA in general were hilarious and insitful.

After about an hour of visiting, she asked me to come with her to teach her English class. It was a complete disaster of a class - the kids were all over the place.. but I loved every minute.

I will be going back every Monday to have a conversation group with the teachers - they want to practice English and bounce teaching ideas off of me (I was introduced as an expert teacher - ha!). It is something I am looking forward to greatly.

Reading Camp

A few weeks ago, one of my teacher friends here allowed me to get back into the 'classroom' for a few hours. On a Saturday morning, I got the chance to work with about 14 kids on some basic reading skills. It was so much fun but was an aching reminder of how much I miss working with kids on a day to day basis. It also gave me the chance to read a story aloud about a very sleepy sheep about 14 times, a wonderful activity for any Saturday morning. :) Thanks Matt for letting me participate!!!

yes that's right - its World Toilet Day.

I'm not lying - it seriously is World Toilet Day.
So in honor - I am going to post some pictures from the archives - from the summer of 2006.

These pictures were all taken in El Salvador, where we took 10 students and 3 teachers from YES to work with a Peace Corps volunteer for two weeks.

The job: build 7 dual-composting latrines. What this means in English - build outhouses that wouldn't fill up (many of the members of the community either had overfilled pit latrines - yes - imagine it - or no latrines. That's right - nothing. That meant that they... just went.) The picture on the right is of one of our students teaching community members how to use the new latrines.

Brian Walsh from TIME explains the situation well: "Toilets are a privilege that nearly half the world lacks. At least 2.6 billion people around the planet have no access to a toilet -- and that doesn't just mean that they don't have a nice, heated indoor bathroom. It means they have nothing -- not a public toilet, not an outhouse, not even a bucket. They defecate in public, contaminating food and drinking water, and the disease toll due to unsanitized human waste is staggering. ...

But despite the horrific fate of the toiletless masses across much of South America, Africa and Asia, sanitation has never been high on the world's development agenda. NGOs and governments focus on making sure the poor have access to enough clean drinking water, but comparatively little funding goes into sanitation, even though the two are sometimes inextricable: Untreated sewage often ends up poisoning the available clean water in developing nations."

We definitely saw this first hand in El Salvador - and I've seen it across the world in my travels. Things like hunger and clean water are 'sexy' subjects - people seem to be willing to donate time and resources to these issues (and thank God for that - don't get me wrong - that is a beautiful thing that those important issues tug at people's hearts).

However, sewage.... sewage doesn't seem to inspire people in quite the same way. Unfortunately, it is just as or more important that providing clean water and food.... Ever had a stomach bug? Guess what that's often from? That's right - ingesting bacteria from feces. No matter how much nutritious food and clean water people are able to consume, if they then defecate on their hand or touch someone else's sewage - and either haven't been educated about hygiene or don't have a way to clean... well, I'm sure you can imagine. According to UNICEF, Diarrhea account for 17 per cent of deaths among children under five years of age worldwide, or nearly 2 million child deaths every year - making them the second most common cause of child deaths globally.

Precious Preschoolers + Origami

When Victor was here a few weeks ago, he volunteered with me at St. Phillip's preschool. We took an origami 'pig' project for the kids. The results were just precious. However - I VASTLY overestimated the paper folding abilities of preschoolers. I thought we were going to have a whole farm of animals by the end of the morning, but we were lucky to even get through the pig. These kids light up my week every Tuesday - just look at how precious they are.


This is the 'model' of the pig we were folding. I got instructions from http://www.origami-fun.com/

SURPRISE! and.... SURPRISE!

I surprised Victor on his birthday on August 2nd by driving with Kate Lindsay and Rach to Cape Town. We essentially crashed his birthday party dinner. It was so much fun to be the one surprising him for once! The pictures on the left are from his birthday dinner.

However, I didn't get to gloat long, because this week, Victor ONCE AGAIN surprised me by coming to Grahamstown! He arrived in the middle of the night, but I didn't hear my phone, so I didn't see him until Sunday morning (the poor guy had to sleep in the car!) --- it was such a wonderful, relaxing week with him! Since he drove, we also got be tourists and see some of the sites that I haven't ever seen around Grahamstown, like the local monastery and the Observatory museum, where you can see the entire city of Grahamstown projected on to a plate. It was actually really, really cool. We also volunteered together at the preschool I work at each week.

Pictures: Top row - Victor playing his guitar in my room, Victor figuring out a way to get a bird out of my house (it flew in the window), Volunteering at the preschool. Middle row - Victor and I at the Monastery, monastery view, and Vic and I overlooking Grahamstown. Bottom Row - Vic climbing down from the observatory, the monastery sign, and Vic and I again at the monastery.

Reunion!!

One of the hardest things about leaving Cape Town in January was to leave behind the project that Wezi (pictured) was working on. Her dream was to open a program for kids in grade 1 who are not ready to be there - working with the kids who would otherwise get left behind. Wezi was Jeannie and my Xhosa teacher, and we spent hours talking over her plans and dreams with her, and figured out how to make them into a reality. I was so, so excited to be involved, and going to Grahamstown was so hard for the fact that I knew I wouldn't be able to be as involved. A few weeks ago I was in Cape Town, and I got the chance to meet up with Wezi and catch up - and - her news was amazing. With Jeannie's help, Wezi has got her program up and going in two schools, with plans to move into a third. She is working with the kids with the most needs. Even more amazingly, because the schools she is working in have seen the progress she has made with the kids, they have agreed to start up an entire school-based program for remediation, to better set up kids for success. Beautiful. Go get 'em, Wezi!!!

Origami

Next week I am going to do origami projects with the kids, so I have been looking up ideas on the internet - this site is the best I've found. If you are looking for a little craft idea, it is a great resource!!

Origami for Kids

Vacillating Part II

Just got back from the preschool. I spent the morning making "toilet paper roll bracelets" with the kids - it was actually very fun and, as always, the kids were adorable and full of energy and fun.

the world is right again. :)

Vacillation

On the way to the post office this morning I passed a man I pass almost everyday. He sits under one of the trees on the sidewalk and plays the guitar for tips. Eben befriended him early in the year, and through that connection, he always remembers me as well, and usually jumps up to give me a hug and remind me that I promised to buy a CD from him before the end of the year.

He is also HIV positive.

Today when I walked by him he wasn't playing, and he didn't jump up - he was quite clearly ill. I stopped to say hi on my way back and noticed that his eyes are almost completely yellow now, a sign of jaundice. He lifted his shirt to show me an oozing infection spreading over his stomach. This is an oportunistic infection - one that with a healthy immune system would not have made it past white blood cells. But this infection is rotting his skin and if left unchecked, will kill him.

To stay healthy he needs not only ARVs but also a diet rich in vegetables, fruits and grains - expensive commodities for someone who makes his money on the street at the mercy of those who walk by.

As usual, he asked me for money. This time I actually gave him a few rand hoping that he will buy vegetables, though I have no idea whether he will or not.

He asked me for a loan so that he could get an injection to kill the infection. I did not give it to him. I don't know whether I should have or not. I don't even know if he was telling the truth or not. I don't know if that should matter or not.

A side note - there is a very distinct difference between beggers on the street here and beggers in the United States. In the US, I usually know what to do - I know our systems are far from perfect, but there are shelters and soup kitchens, unemployment agencies, and so on that are in place. It does not work for everyone, but most people who find themselves on the street are able at some point to be reintegrated into the working economy. This is not to say that poverty is not very REAL in the United States - far from it. Poverty is real and alive and affecting thousands of people, something I saw everyday when I was working in Houston. It is something that needs fought with every ounce of strength that Americans have.

But here, poverty and homelessness are different than they are in the United States. Yes, there are a couple soup kitchens (in Grahamstown they are both run by a wonderful Rotarian) - but there is no shelter, or infastructure in place to absorb the people on the street and reintegrate them into the economy. And worse, there is no industry in Grahamstown. Few jobs. Especially if you are sick. Especially if you are dying - which an estimated 18-24% of the population is. That means that roughly one out of every 4 or 5 people of working age are facing similar dilemmas to the man I pass on the street every day - they are HIV positive. And in places like the township, unemployment reaches as high as 75 or 80%.

I vacillate between surges of hope and feelings of futility.

Malawi, I'm on my way - and other such news.

Its official! I just booked a ticket to Malawi for September 10-17th. One of our dear family friends, Tracy, is coming down with her daughter to prepare to officially open an orphanage. This is a project that I have held near to my heart since the moment I heard about it, and I am so excited toIgo and spend some time (albeit short) with them and see the amazing work that is taking place. Here's the link to the orphanage:

McKallie's Home of Future and Hope

It continues to amaze me that I do things like book tickets to Malawi and plan trips to orphanages as one of my daily activities. I cannot image being more blessed. I have been thinking about this a lot lately... and I don't even know where to begin expressing gratitude for - all of this.

In other news, I went back to Settler's Hospital today. (this is where I play with HIV+ kids while they wait for treatment) This was a somewhat big deal for me because since I went last week I have been pretty emotional - it was very hard on me emotionally last time. Today I spent the morning making animal masks with the kids and then playing tiger and springbok (meaning they are the tigers and I am the springbok, meaning essentially they have an excuse to hit/kick me - its great). It amazes me how impressionable kids are. They especially liked the way that I drew stripes on my tiger mask, and about 4 of them copied me meticulously. I kept lamenting that I had gone the traditional route with the colors, as all of them followed suit (I believe in encouraging creativity, even if that means a green polka-dot tiger). It made me hyper-aware of how actions are so much louder than words. Not speaking the same language also makes me aware of that. :)

Tangent on that note: today I was really hyped up about talking to the kids in Xhosa, as almost none of them speak English. I made a promise to go out of my way to address them in Xhosa (as most of the volunteers don't). So I sat down, gathered my courage (and pride), picked my kid, and threw at him my very best opening lines of Xhosa. He just stared at me. So I tried again, speaking more clearly this time - Ngubani igama lakho? (what is your name?) - more stares. Then he said, patiently: Are you trying to ask my name? "My name is Sipho and I speak English." Ha! Thank you Sipho.

heavy stuff.

I spent the morning 'volunteering' at Settler's Hosipital in the Children's HIV treatment centre. My job was to color with the kids while we waited for them to receive their ARV treatment, and then afterward while they waited for the blood test results.

I colored very hard. I colored like it was the last job I would ever have. I colored in panic, knowing I would only have a few minutes with each kid, and I was desperate to give them something.

It doesn't make sense. I mean, I study a lot about AIDS. All I do is read and write about it all day. And I go to AIDS testing centers, and I go to schools for street kids, and I take courses that study all of the underlying causes, so I get it. I get it. But I don't get it.

For each kid, I made a picture with their name in it, with animals, shapes or flowers all around their name. Some of the kids made me one, too, which was beyond precious.

The last kid I was coloring with didn't know how to write her name. I say her-- but I am actually not sure if it was a boy or a girl. She was completely emaciated. She almost didn't look entirely human - her eyes were so big and sunken into her head, the little bones were so sharp and looked like they were going to break through her skin. She was dying. I don't know how old she was - maybe 6? She was so tired, I could barely get her to color at all. We drew a lot of shapes together, like circles, triangles, squares, hearts. Then I drew a star and she looked up at me all shocked. So we spent the next 20 minutes or so learning how to draw stars, her mimicking me. Each time she completed one, she would smile this beautiful smile that literally melted my heart right out of my chest and onto the table. At the end, she drew one all by herself, and then had to go in for her treatment. She took the paper with her stars with her.

After she came out she was too tired to do much more, so I colored in the stars for her.

There is nothing fair about it.
I am angry.

Highlights from Goma, DRC

Highlights from Rwanda

gardening with mr. modolo

This morning, Alica and I accompanied one of our friends (Jeremy) to Elthembini Service Center, a senior citizen center in one of the Grahamstown townships. We spent a lovely morning and afternoon gardening with Mr. Modolo, cooking with Connie, picking out beads for one of the ladies to make AIDS pins, and just hanging out with the seniors. The first picture is Mr. Modolo, showing off his moves. The second is Mr. Modolo again, watering the dirt we had just weeded. The third is Connie and me - she wanted the picture to show how much she was enjoying the food she had just cooked, and the fourth is several of the seniors who wanted their picture taken outside by the garden.

My favorite part of the afternoon was weeding and chatting with Alicia, while Mr. Modolo serenaded us with the same song over and over, occasionally stopping to compliment himself on the quality of his singing - usually something to the effect of "No one can sing like Mr. Modolo, he has a song of his own." I agree :)