How about some soap?

11/03/05

Time keeps on slipping.

Daniel was banging on my door at 6:30am. "Are you still sleeping?" Wait. This actually requires back-story. Daniel had invited me to come to his cousin's retirement party. Actually, he didn't so much invite me as tell me that I was coming to the party, which of course annoyed me, but its really just a language thing. And then he kept reminding me and reminding me about it. I knew it would be a incredibly awkward event, and so I was actually kind of excited. But I was trying to figure out why Daniel was so damn intent on me going with him (it was all he would say to me for a week.) Was it just because he wanted me to pay his bus fare there? Was it to show off to his relatives that he had a mzungo staying with him? Was I going to be expected to give this cousin money for his retirement? Was it something more sinister? I asked Robert about it on Monday, as we walked up to Kitere, and he said I should talk to Mama about it. He said that Daniel's relatives weren't people that were known here, and that Daniel was actually mentally unstable, that he had been institutionalized before, that he could go gaga at any time… So yesterday I talked to Mama, and she asked what time we were leaving, and I told her 7am (which is what Daniel told me) and Mama got worried, because no party in Africa would ever start at 8am, even if it was scheduled to start at 8am, it wouldn't start until 10am, so Mama was convinced that there was hidden motives, some sinister objective of the relatives in the offing. I was actually still going to go, because how could I miss a sinister and awkward party, but then Robert called to say that we had been invited down to the Ranen VCT, where I've wanted to go for a while, and is obviously much more important for the project than a party. No matter how interesting an experience it may have been. So I was looking for Daniel to tell him I couldn't go, but he was at one of his girlfriend's house, so I couldn't tell him until this morning when he was banging on my door at 6:30am. He was all dressed up in a tie and a vest and his pants tucked into his socks(?) and his trusty Cubs cap that Michael brought him. I was wondering how he would take the news, he had seemed so excited, I hated to let the guy down, but part of me assumed that it was all just about the bus fare. He came in, sat down (as he does) and I explained that I had to go to the Ranen VCT and couldn't go to the project. Without missing a beat he said, "Can I have money for transport?" I felt much better about the whole thing when he asked that. I didn't feel guilty for not going, and I doubted that there was actually any sinister plot awaiting me if I had. I gave him 100/= for the bus.

So Danya sent me an sms, it said something like she had gone out the night before, ladies night, at Lolas, and did I remember Lolas. I do not. So I asked were it was. She said on Fairfax. And then, all of a sudden, I couldn't remember where Fairfax was! I spent the whole time I was bathing in warm brown well water with my half a gourd, in the freezing morning air, trying to remember the geography of LA. Finally, when I remembered where Fairfax was, I let LA slip back out of my mind. But it was fun to be back for a minute.

This project is so daunting. Even when I'm all motivated the night before, when I know exactly what I have to do, when I wake up in the morning and I think about how much there is to accomplish today, this week, this month… I get tired just thinking about it. It's just so daunting. But what can you do other than get dressed and eat your mashed bananas and tie your boots up tight and get your bags on and lock up your door and put one foot in front of the other?

"Um, excuse me, is your friend here on a denominational project?" The teacher asked in a real belligerent tone. Robert and I had just come from a very successful tour of the Ranen Seventh Day Adventist VCT center, and now we were stopping off to say hello to the faculty at the SDA school were he used to teach.
"Sorry?"
"Yes, is your friend's project SDA?"
I figured I should field that question, save Robert the trouble. He was standing on one end of the room, they had given me a chair at the other. The room was dark, just the refracted sunlight trying to eek in between curtained windows. I wasn't sure how they could actually work in a room like that. It only seemed conducive to nap time. There were about a dozen faculty sitting in desks in a wide circle around the room. It was one of these faculty members that had so belligerently asked Robert about my denomination before he had even finished introducing me.
I said, "Well, I'm here doing volunteer work, trying to help raise awareness about HIV and AIDS, trying to help Kanga village start a center that can help educate and sensitize, and eventually even sponsor orphan's education. It's based out of the SDA church there, but it is, by nature, a non-denominational project, as anyone can become affected with HIV/AIDS."
The teacher replied, belligerently, "Not anyone" In a way that seemed to be shooting an arrow of hate towards Robert. Now I was on edge. "And this, in case you didn't know, is an SDA institution, so we need to make sure that you are working on an SDA project." I wasn't even sure why we were there, Robert had just wanted to say hello to his former colleagues, he obviously didn't know who this guy was.
"Well, like I said, it is associated with SDA, but it's important that everyone, regardless of denomination, receive information about HIV, don't you think?"
"Well how have you found Kenya so far?" Someone else tossed that in there, presumably to change the subject.
"Oh, wonderful. I've been here three months and almost across the board I have been received most wonderfully." I maybe put a little sting on 'almost.' I maybe looked right at the guy as I said it. I almost wanted to ask him where 'Seventh Day Adventist' could be found in the bible, where Jesus has talked about denomination. I've been reading the bible a bit and haven't seen any mention in it.
"Is the visitor willing to answer a question?" It was the belligerent guy again. I almost wanted to say, 'the visitor is', but I was trying to be non-confrontational, trying.
"Sure. No problem. By the way, do you mind if I film our conversation?" I had my newly christened ELPH in hand, and knew I wouldn't get away with filming this guy discreetly, but I really wanted his belligerence for posterity. I figured his question would be a gem.
"Actually, I would rather ask the question and hear your response before I agree to be filmed. If I like your answer, maybe I'll ask the question again for your camera." Fuck. I want this on film. This is going to be good.
"Sure. What's your question?"
"Well. We all know that HIV was manufactured in a laboratory in America and then brought to Africa as an experiment."
It wasn't stunned by the absurdity of what he said, because I've heard people say this before. It's just that he presented it as fact, not as speculation.
He went on, "why is it that American scientists picked Africans to kill?"
I was addressed everyone. "Well, thank you for your question, its important to open up dialogue so we can dispel myths like this. Let me tell you what I believe, and what is accepted to be fact around the world. HIV, like any other infectious disease, malaria or TB, occurred naturally. Many scientists believe that it originated in animals. The first case was identified in Uganda, by the lakeshore, in the early 1980's. They called it Slim's Disease because of the weight loss associated with it. Because of the lack of access to information that people have had about the disease, it has spread more quickly here than in other parts of the world, but we are finding that infection rates are going up all over, in Russia and India, Thailand and South America, Europe and America. That's why it's so important that we pursue these sensitization and education projects." All the other teachers seemed to be nodding in agreement. I looked back to the Belligerent Man. "Just out of curiosity, where did you hear this rumor about HIV being manufactured?"
"Its not a rumor. It's a fact."
Silence.
"What sort of evidence have you seen to back that up?"
"It was in the newspaper in 2003. Everybody knows it."
I turned back to the other teachers in the room.
"Does everyone else here know that it's a fact that HIV was manufactured in a laboratory?" It wasn't a rhetorical question, I was actually very curious.
The other teachers all sort of shook their heads No but didn't speak up, they sort of looked at their feet. Why was everyone being so deferential to this guy?
One guy managed to say, "Its hard to say it's a fact, since none of us were there."
"Indeed."
Back to the Belligerent Man.
"So, what was the name of the newspaper you read this in? Who was the journalist? Do you think it's a possibility that it was just this journalist's opinion, or maybe even misinformation, that you are now presenting as a fact?"
"No. It's a fact. I don't remember the name of the paper, but that's not important. It's a fact. It was written in black and white."
"Hmm. Because the Koran is written in black and white. Does that make Mohammad the true prophet?"
Yikes. Maybe I shouldn't have said that one at the SDA school. The guy was about to explode. Robert jumped in.
"You know, I came here with out friend, our visitor, to greet you all, my former colleagues. I also wanted to offer our services to sensitize your students, give them correct information about HIV. But I want to say that how it was started is not as important as where we go from here."
But I wasn't done, "I agree, though I do want to say that I think it's very unfortunate that there is someone on the staff here that is giving his personal opinion as fact. Especially a teacher."
"I am a pastor. The school's chaplain." He was so pissed.
"Well, especially someone in your position, with the student body giving you their trust, shouldn't be giving out misinformation as facts."
There was silence. I thought I should drive the point home.
"So, I very much urge you to do a little research and find out the truth before you continue presenting rumors, opinion, speculation, myth, whatever you want to call it, as facts. Just because someone wrote something a few years ago, it doesn't make it the truth." I stood up, Robert said it was nice to see his colleagues; I made my way around the room again, shaking everyone's hand, getting a lot of 'thank yous' from the teachers. I got to the chaplain last. I shook his hand. He looked at the ground.
Robert and I walked out, led by one of the teachers, who turned out to be the deputy headmaster. He took us into his office. He apologized on behalf of the chaplain.
"Its just that, as the spiritual leader of the school, he isn't used to anyone challenging his beliefs."
He invited us to come back and talk to the students to sensitize and educate.

We had gone to Ranen to visit the SDA church's VCT center. They have very nice facilities, its obvious that they have received serious money. But they had all this unused equipment around, equipment that they said was donated years ago, and they are waiting for something or the other (more funding probably) so that they can put it to use. It just goes to show you that even donating medical equipment to a rural health facility doesn't necessarily get the aid to the ground. You've really got to fight hard to make this work. But other than that, the visit was extremely successful, I even convinced the Director to send his lab tech to Kanga for a day of testing once a month. Yahoo. Before I leave we may be doing real VCT in Kanga! And OVC lifeskills! And IGAs run by PLWHAs that fund it all! I didn't even think we would get that far. Of course, there's a ton of work that needs to be done to make it happen, but at least its possible.

To get there was a Matatu and then a boda-boda, there was a hill that my guy started peddling down while all the other guys just coasted, we were flying. It was fun, that fast bumpy ride on the back of the rusty 'iron horse.'

Before Ranen we visited Rebecca again. She had offered to sing us songs. This time, her husband Jacob was there as well, and he gave us an interview. It was amazing, his ideas for what would be most helpful in Kanga were so in line with what we are doing, but Robert assures me that he didn't know. He suggested a center were people could go for VCT and health info, funded by things like poultry farming and sugar cane farming, and then said that eventually it could even include a workshop where orphans could be trained as craftsmen. I also asked him about Sony Sugar, where he works, because there was a newspaper article recently about how farmers may have to march on the HQ, call for the removal of the Director, because there have been all these problems with harvesting and payment. Well, Jacob assured me that he would use his 13 years of 'clout' at Sony to make sure Kanga didn't have any problems with harvesting, and he said he works in accounting, so we'll actually get paid quickly. See, corruption is great when it's your guy on the inside… Oh, and as we were talking, I looked out the door and a giant Crane Bird was just wandering by…

Next, Rebecca sang us some songs. She had a nice voice and she looked so much healthier than the last time we interviewed her, and she was sitting in the same spot in the same light, so I think it'll cut together well. I asked Jacob and Rebecca to join the KCHEP counsel, and they both agreed.

As we walked from Rebecca and Jacob's towards the road, we passed an ancient Mzee, Jim, who was sitting in his chair outside his home. He wanted a picture. I was happy to oblige. But before we started, he wanted to go inside and get a kofia (hat.) I peeked as he walked into his traditional mud hut, the room as bare as they usually are, and he got out a hat and a tie from an ancient cabinet. His back was so bent and he walked so slowly. I moved his chair to a better position while he was inside and when he came out he sat down and started trying to tie his tie. When he was ready (he never really got the tie tied), I snapped a roll and a half, first with the 28mm and then with the 85mm. If the shots are tack they will be good. When we were done, after I had thanked him and he had thanked me, Jim asked for money. I have been very careful not to hand out money to people directly for letting me take their picture or film them, I figure it would be disastrous to the project, like everyone would demand money every time I take my camera out, and people would come wanting to be filmed for the wrong reasons. I have made it a practice to go back to people's homes or send Robert, later, without the cameras, to give money to those people in the real desperate situations. Robert knows this and told Jim, in mothertongue, 'its embarrassing for our people to ask for money every time they ask to have their picture taken! The visitor can see that you are an old man and in need, we will come back and bring you something." Jim shouted back, "How about some soap?!"

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