An important moment in the field...

Last week was a bit of a roller coaster for me. My feelings of loneliness and solitude that had been building for weeks finally peaked early in the week, but I reached out to some family and friends via email and received many wonderful words of encouragement and support. I also decided to take matters into my own hands and organized a game night with my colleagues. I was so happy that 8 people showed up at the local bar/restaurant Thursday night to play some dice (a game I’ve always played with my family on vacation). Friday I was invited to join two of my colleagues/friends for a night on the town. Lyantonde is a quiet place, but they showed me a few of their favorite spots and it was such an improvement on my normal Friday night alone! Whatever happened last week between the ups and the downs, I finally feel completely adjusted to my new life and fully immersed in the culture. I also had an important moment in the field on Thursday, one that truly opened my eyes to what I am a part of here and what I’d like to be a part of for a long time.

Some colleagues and I spent the day driving around the sub counties to do different things. First, we went to see the progress made on a few of the homes being built and I was pleasantly surprised to see that two of the families I had met just a few weeks ago already had new structures up on their property! The houses are still not complete, but they are complete enough for the families to live in them if they want. I could seriously feel a change in the air; the moods were different, they were lighter. Just being able to see that a house was being built for them, you could see that that was already changing their lives.
We also caught the end of a sanitation/hygiene training that was taking place for people living with AIDS (PLWAs) and the heads of child-headed households (CHHs). There were two girls in the back of the room that couldn’t have been more than 13 years old (above middle). They kept looking over at me with shy smiles. My colleague got them some notebooks and pens so they would pay attention and take some notes. She confirmed that they are orphans taking care of their younger siblings. These girls are so sweet and innocent, yet they have so much responsibility and so much tragedy already in their young lives. I looked at them in admiration of their courage and bravery.
I also noticed a woman breastfeeding her baby and seemingly pregnant with another. Her baby was so sweet, probably about a year old and obviously not thrilled to be stuck in this training with her mother! I kept looking at the baby and finally took her picture (above left). As I sat there watching her fidget and play, I thought…”if this woman has AIDS and she is breastfeeding her baby, her baby must be sick too.” I couldn’t get this thought out of my head. At the end of the training I asked one of my colleagues about the breastfeeding and the pregnancies. “Do these women know that if they have this disease and are breastfeeding, there is a very good chance that they are giving their children a fatal disease?” He said yes. “But do they UNDERSTAND? Because I’m not yet a mother, but I know that when I am I will never do anything that could harm my child. Do they really understand? Or do they just not care?” He said that they must understand because everyone knows that HIV/AIDS kills, so they must not care. I truly could not believe what he was telling me. As we talked, two women came out of the center, one with such a gaunt, sickly face. He told me they are both pregnant.
Our conversation continued for a few minutes as I tried my best to hold back my tears. How could this be? Why would these women bring children into this world who will suffer their entire lives from this disease? Why would they breastfeed their babies? Have they gotten them tested? Apparently, for the most part, the babies are not tested because the parents would rather not know. If they find out the children have AIDS they won’t be able to go on; they won’t be able to care for them knowing they have this incurable disease; they would be devastated if it was confirmed that they had passed on this tragic fate. There are three ways in which women living with HIV/AIDS can pass the disease on to their little ones: during pregnancy if she gets an infection on the placenta, during childbirth if the labor is not done in the care of a specifically trained physician or hospital (rare, in these rural cases) there is a good chance her blood will be transferred to the newborn, and by breastfeeding she increases the possibility even more. I understand that the lack of education and the increased poverty level of the people we’re working with are to blame for the fact that women continue to breastfeed, but it is still unbelievable. So many risks, so many chances to pass on this illness and the women are still having babies (because in many cases their husbands threaten to go elsewhere for sex if they don’t provide it and usually refuse to use condoms) and they are still breastfeeding. As all of these thoughts rushed in my head, I couldn’t hold in the tears any longer and I politely cut off my colleague as I walked away crying my first tears in the field. All of the children I have met since I arrived were flashing through my head. I had finally allowed myself to realize that some of them, although so innocent and unknowing, must have this terrible disease too. That moment gave me a new motivation and new determination…a new understanding…

…there are so many people in the world that need help for so many different reasons: war, poverty, disease, the list goes on. It seems an impossible task to help them all; and even in this small region in little Uganda it seems to be an unattainable goal to help all those suffering from or affected by the HIV/AIDS pandemic. But, my colleagues continue to fight, continue to try, and continue to lend helping hands. We stopped by so I could take pictures of one last family: a recent widower of AIDS, living with the disease (not yet on medication) and his four young boys (one pictured above right). There is a chance that the youngest, not yet walking, has the disease himself and an even greater chance that the boys will all be orphans taking care of themselves in the years to come. It is so true when people say you can see a person’s soul through their eyes…I could see all of theirs. I look forward to visiting this family again before I leave, once their new home is constructed, and to seeing a brighter, more hopeful future in their eyes.

Uncle Bob, I figured out how I can help save the world…I need to help save the children. We must save the children. We must mold and build their futures. We must give them an education and give them a chance. We must be their voices. If we do this, I believe we will be saving all of our tomorrows.