Emotional Rainclouds and Fire Hoses

Starting on Tuesday of this past week the organization I’m working with, LENEPWHA (the Lesotho Network of People Living with HIV/AIDS), was hosting a workshop involving HIV/AIDS testing and counseling, psycho-social support, positive prevention, and palliative care. Five of the coaches from the football part of the project were included in the workshop and I thought that for the most part I would just check in to see how things were going sporadically over the week. I ended up attending the whole workshop. It worked out well. I was able to bring my English-Sesotho dictionary and used the time to improve my language skills. I also ended up being the designated photographer/videographer.

I was pretty happy with my role until the morning of the last day of the workshop. I arrived at the workshop a few minutes late. There were a couple of participants loitering outside smoking, so I just took a second to chat with them before proceeding inside the conference hall. Inside the hall the participants were standing in a circle. On the ground, In the middle of the circle was a large HIV/AIDS ribbon made out of leaves and pebbles.

In my role as photographer I started taking some pictures and video without thinking. It took me a few seconds to realize what was happening. It was a sharing circle - I don't know if this is the correct term, but it describes the activity fairly well.

In an earlier post (doom and gloom binge) I talked about being drawn to this type of work because of the emotions involved. Even though I’m working with an HIV/AIDS organization, with people who are HIV positive, the presence of HIV/AIDS and death seems distant. I am not sure what I expected, but at some level I must have thought that there would be this ever-present cloud of grief raining on everything. It hasn’t been that way and I think the normalcy has surprised me slightly. I would not say that people are suppressing their emotions, but similar to anywhere else there has to be some form of emotional compartmentalization for people and society to function.

If I thought there would be this emotional rain cloud in Lesotho I think the sharing circle showed me that it is actually more like a fire hose. I was in this room with about 30 other people. I was the only white guy – not really an issue because LENEPWHA are incredibly welcoming, notice the picture of me in the traditional Basotho blanket, but it makes me feel like I stand out –

I was the only person who has not been affected by HIV/AIDS, and I was the jackass holding a camera. I couldn’t completely comprehend everything, but from what I heard and what I was told later, people were talking about learning about their status, getting sick, friends and family dying, and discrimination and stigma - families disowning them, friends abandoning them, husbands throwing them out. Almost all of the participants were crying or had tears in their eyes. While telling their stories many became inconsolable – crying hysterically. A couple of minutes in and I wanted to leave that room more than I have ever wanted to leave anywhere, but I wasn’t sure if that would be offensive – as much as I felt like I stood out no one was really taking notice of me. At this moment of trying to decide if I should stay or if I should go the project manager tells me that I can go into the middle of the circle to get some better photos and video. I must have looked like he had turned a fire hose on me from a couple of feet away. I whispered ‘umm…I would not feel very comfortable doing that’. Luckily one of the local LENEPWHA staff was fine with it, so I handed the camera over to him. In retrospect I think that it would have been fine for me to jump in the middle of the circle and shove my camera in peoples’ faces, but at the time it seemed like a horrible idea.

After the activity was over it was like someone turned off the valve on the fire hydrant and everything was back to normal. People who had collapsed in tears only a few minutes earlier were now laughing, joking, and posing for pictures with the HIV ribbon made of leaves.

I can only imagine what it is like to be branded as HIV positive: marginalized, discriminated against, and stigmatized. In a sense you have to put your emotions into a compartment and lock them up. I can only imagine what this sharing circle can provide: a safe space to unlock that compartment, to share, to vent, to console, and to comfort. It was very powerful.

July 18, 2010

Doom and Gloom Binge

I think a lot of people might wonder how I have ended up working in Africa. In fact, for the last few years I have been slightly obsessed with this type of work and Africa in particular. If somebody were to ask me why I have come here I am not sure I would have a good answer. It is something I have reflected on quite often – after finishing a degree in education I think I can reflect the crap out of most situations. In fact my powers of reflection may be bordering on superhuman and are a big reason why I am doing this blog. Why would I let these reflective powers go to waste?

Anyways, how does a kid from small town Canada end up in Africa? Growing up I had very little, or no interest in politics, history, or social issues. Through most of university I managed to maintain this apathy. I have to be careful what I say here because I don't want to come across as virtuous. My intention is not to stand on a soap box lecturing people on becoming more engaged. Development or charity workers are often unquestioningly praised, but I would be misrepresenting myself if I tried to come across as completely altruistic. I am here, and involved in this work, for a variety of reasons, but many are self-serving.

So, what caused my attitude to change? Through the reflective process I have pinpointed two events that I believe have sent me down this path. The first is travel. I think working in China and travelling around China and Asia exposed me to many issues that I had never given much thought to. I also became interested in travel for the sake of travel. The second event seems trivial, but I consider it more significant. During my final year of university I read a book called ‘Shake Hands with the Devil.’ It seems silly that I would consider reading a book a significant event, but I suppose I am easily influenced. I can’t remember who

recommended it or why I read it, but it shocked me for a couple of reasons. I was shocked by the fact that an event like the Rwandan genocide occurred and I knew nothing about it. This is not a condemnation of the media. Like I said previously I had no interest. My mom is constantly listening to CBC and I am sure at some point I heard about the genocide, but never gave it a second thought – scratch that, I never gave it a first thought.

The second thing that shocked me was that I had a strong emotional reaction to the book. It made me quite sad and angry. This may seem obvious, but if you know me then you know that I am about as emotionally expressive as I am verbally expressive. On an internal level I would also say that I don’t experience emotional highs and lows. Therefore, having this reaction to ‘Shake Hands with the Devil’ was fairly significant. It also sent me on a binge. I ended up searching out and reading books that were about atrocities, genocides, disease, poverty, etc. Most of these books were about Africa. I wouldn’t go so far as to say that I have come to Africa to satiate some emotional hunger. Like I am a drug addict trying to find the next high. I do have a genuine interest in the work I am doing, but it is hard to deny that emotional extremes are part of the job. This place is very heartwarming and heart wrenching at the same time.

On the other hand there is a certain amount of emotional repression that has to occur in a place like this. People attend funerals almost every weekend – I have been told not to schedule events on weekends because of this. At a meeting a couple of weeks back, during a tea break, we had a 40 minute conversation about funerals. How many people should talk? How long should it be? What kind of casket? What kind of tombstone? Burial or cremation? What food should be served? Everyone in the room was between 30 and 40 years old, but had attended countless funerals and had given a lot of thought to their own. When someone in their immediate family passes away some Basotho will wear a black ribbon or scrap of fabric around their neck for a period of time. Throughout the day I will see a number of young adults and children - including participants in the programmes I am involved in - going about their business with death hanging around their neck.

I think my own perspective has also changed. When my wife came to visit I asked her to bring me a book called ’28 Stories of AIDS in Africa’. Before leaving for Lesotho I attended a Stephen Lewis talk and he recommended the book. Stephen Lewis’ ‘Race Against Time’ Massey Lectures was one of the books I read during my doom and gloom binge, so I decided to act on his recommendation. ‘Race Against Time’ also had a significant impact on me. Both it and ‘Shake Hands with the Devil’ are not incredibly literary, but the facts that are presented are overwhelming. I expected to have the same reaction to the 28 Stories book, but I didn’t. I think it was very representative of individuals with HIV, but after living here for only a few months it came across as common place.

I’m not sure if this is emotional repression or just dealing with reality. Maybe repression for me and just reality for everyone else.

May 2nd, 2010