They finally Made It

Here is the first of Laura's blog entries.... It is powerful and I am so glad to hear they all made it safely!


I could tell you about all of the flight problems we had getting to Swaziland. I could tell you about waiting in airports for hours, visiting the Eiffel tower on a whirlwind Paris tour exhausted, hot, and miserable. I could tell you about the long list of logistical problems we've had since we've been here, but I know that's not really what you want to hear. So here goes!

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Coming back to Swaziland has been like a homecoming in some ways. I was filled with relief and joy to greet Babe Mkhonta, Sandile, Vuyo, Bishop Dlamini, and Babe Mhlanga at the airport. It was nice to be known and remembered. I was already given a siSwati name: Tsembikile. It means trustworthy. Babe Mhlanga christened me Tsembikile because he said I promised I would come back to Swaziland, and I did.

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After a wonderful time entertaining the orphans and street kids at Gigi's place this morning, several members of the group came to the realization for the first time how gigantic this problem is. Chris spoke tonight during our nightly de-briefing session of being "unable to swallow" the lives that the children we entertained live. They are all orphans. They have to be to qualify for the preschool and school programs at Gigi's place. Many of them are HIV+. Many of them have tuberculosis. All of them are vulnerable and survive on one meal a day Monday- Friday and often only drink water on the weekends. Thinking about them after seeing their faces, learning their names, holding their hands, and hearing their laughter can bring you to your knees when you think of what they go through every night and every day that we are not there to bring the joy and the release they desperately need.

But if that seems like more than any society can possibly handle, remember that the hardest hit is my age group. The youth ages 25- 35 are dwindling. I don't know anything yet about my friend Ndomiso. When I met her two years ago she was visibly sick. She has full blown AIDS, and so does her mother. Meeting her was meeting myself with AIDS. She is my age, but she will never have what I have. I want to hug her and tell her what she has done for me, but I am afraid that that opportunity will not exist for me.

Yesterday I met a young man name Mzwandile. He is known for his rich, glorious bass singing voice in the choir. Sandile (who is the choir director) claims he is indespinsable for his choir. When John went to shake his hand, he offered his arm, explaining that he was HIV positive and that he had a cut on his hand. He came right out and said it. Later, as we were about to leave the church parking lot where we were picking up some of our friends, Vuyo brought him over to my car window and introduced us. I didn't notice that he didn't offer his hand for the traditional greeting (I heard later what John had learned). He smiled and asked to see a picture of our group wearing the traditional dress for the wedding. Unfortunately it took me about a year to figure out how to scroll quickly through the pictures on my new camera. But eventually I showed him. He said that he hoped to see us Sunday. Today he came by Gigi's place and we were able to have a slightly longer conversation. I remembered about him being HIV positive and felt slightly awkward that I couldn't shake his hand and wondered if he noticed that I never put out my hand to do it. Tomorrow I may see him again, since he is joining the team choir. :) I'm eager to get to know him. I know it will be hard. Once again I will see the promise of a future reflecting from my eyes into is, and I will know that one of us will have the opportunity to see our dreams realized, and the other may never have that opportunity.

I'm remembering what Kathy and Jesse tell me (where does that come from...?): Breathe deep, seek peace. I'm doing it. I miss everyone. I'm safe.