These past weeks we have finally gotten into the community as we began our service sites. There are five different service sites, so our whole group is pretty spread out. I am at a place called RIVLife, which has all sorts of projects that help make it an effective business. There is a lot that goes on behind the scenes that I don’t necessarily see, but I am still interacting with the people there, so it’s still rewarding.
Last week we had a Community Engagement class on Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday from 08:00 to 16:00. It was really long but also helpful in regards to preparation for entering the community. Thursday and Friday we started our service sites, which really just consisted of us going to the Crèche (day care centre) and letting kids climb all over us while we tried to calm them down. It was fun to play with kids, but it wasn’t exactly exciting nor involving the community. So, the six of us girls who are at RIVLife were a little frustrated after the first week since it didn’t feel like we had done anything.
Last weekend there were two different markets that we planned to go to in Durban, but because they were on two different days, a small group of us decided to get a hotel and just stay the night in that area. This ended up being a great idea since our hotel was right on the beach, and had a gorgeous view. After the first market, where I was able to get some fun things for friends and family, we were dropped off at our hotel. So, naturally, we made our way to the beach as soon as possible, and remained there for the afternoon. The group of us six girls and ten guys then went out to dinner at a place called TacoZulu, which was the best Mexican food I have had in so long because it is the
only Mexican food I have had since I’ve been here. While eating, a huge thunderstorm passed over us and we ended up just walking around in the rain. It was a fabulous night, followed by a handful of us getting up early to watch the sun rise over the Indian Ocean. All of Sunday we then spent on the beach, and I felt completely rested and rejuvenated for the upcoming week.
This week, we had our 8 hours of class again on Monday, and then we back to service sites on Tuesday. We finally got to go into the community that day, but they said we could only take three of us, so the other three had to stay back and work in the Crèche again. So, we drew blades of grass for it, and I got to go into the little village that is just across the street from our community centre. This entailed doing house visits, which I was a little nervous for, but found fine after the first house. We visited a blind man who had water leaking from his bathroom into his bedroom, which made all the clothes piled in the corner soaking wet. So, the three of us spent about half an hour sorting and folding moldy wet clothes that belonged to his wife who died two years ago. It was an odd job, but I think it helped him a lot in the end.
The second house we went to I will never forget. We walked a short way to a squatter village right next to the actual township, where we entered the house of a woman who had a stroke in 2009. They talked to her for a while, and then I heard the social worker say my name, and Physical Therapy in the same sentence… *Insert choice expletive here.*
I had no idea what to do, because the social worker then turned to me and said, “Isn’t that right Shelli? We have a physiotherapist with us today. Come here Shelli, you can do what you like.”
Fake it till you make it friends. “Yep that’s me.”
Dear Lord… “Is there anything specific she would like me to work on?”
I have no idea what the hell to do… “Because if there is something she is working toward”
can you please give me your hands? “Then I will be able to help her a little better.”
Because I can’t do this without you! I think that’s the best way to describe what happened.
After that though, the woman told the translator that it hurt to stand. So, after about half an hour of me messing with her legs, stretching them, twisting them, bending them, etc. I was able to actually guess what the issue was. The amazing thing was in the end, based solely off of what her body told me, I was able to fairly accurately determine what the woman was experiencing, and what the plan should be for her going forward. I just seemed to know what to do, which stretches came to mind, what exercises would help, and how to best help this woman. It was an incredible experience, and it was effective enough to where they asked me to come back again tomorrow to continue helping her in this treatment. So needless to say I will be doing a little more research tonight, and a lot more praying.
Yesterday we went to the house of these grandmothers (GoGos) who get together once a week just so they aren’t sitting at home all day feeling sorry for themselves. So, they meet the same time and place, and make crafts together that are then sold to the community. It was really fun to hang with them and listen to them laugh at our broken Zulu. Then today, we went to a support group for people who have somehow contracted HIV, which has been ongoing since 2003. The most amazing part about this support group, beside their apparent joy and vitality despite being HIV+, was the fact that two women in the group had just had children within the last year, and the babies were both HIV-! This proves that if you educate the people enough to where they know to take their ARV medicine, then they can avoid the transmission of HIV to others, and more importantly to their children. It was an eye opening experience, and I really enjoyed getting to talk to them and hear all of their stories.
So far, service sites have been incredibly rewarding, and I am treated as much more of a professional than I really am. However, with an open mind and heart, I am able to work with these people, many of whom have lost hope, and give them the love they deserve.
Trash littered the streets that were lined by rock and mud shacks, so weathered that they could hardly be called homes. Scanning the valley, you hear dozens of roosters crowing, and flea-ridden, mangy dogs barking in a fight. The cloudy gray sky emulated the lethargy of the community all worn down by years of poverty. Children play in the streets with whatever they can find, and puppies are left in the middle of the road to starve, or meet perhaps a different fate. The quality of life is so poor I can't help but think, "How could anyone live this way?" and yet people do every day. Seeing these people still laugh and smile back at me with a returning wave proved what they had not lost hope. It is these people who are helping me to redefine my previous ideas about life, the American dream, happiness, and everything that makes a day worth living.
As we stood in the streets, waiting for one of the social workers, I began pondering everything I thought I knew about what it takes for someone to be genuinely happy. My soul wept for the people we visited that day and in the weeks previous. After a while, it began to lightly rain, and I knew God was weeping too. 
A withered tired hand
The darkened room now mocks
But not too long after's
