*Somewhat graphic entry
“They call me crazy if I fail, all the chance that I am in, one in a million they could call me brilliant if I succeed. Gravity is nothing to me moving at the speed of sound, just going to get my feet wet until I drown… ‘Cause I don’t care if they eat me alive, I’ve got better things to do than survive.” – Ani DiFranco
“I’m livin’ in an empty room though the window’s smashed, and I’ve got so little left to lose that it feels just like I’m walkin’ on broken glass.” –Annie Lennox
October 11, 2009- until today
I find myself on my back again with my teachers crowded around me with needles- and again the question, "Brie, How could you not know until now?" I am busy trying to keep my skirt down while still keeping one leg in the air to show off the dime-sized egg sack protrouding from the arch of my foot. Mary says, "This is going to hurt." Great, like the other times it was comfortable. Mjemah says, "Maybe this time we should use the Konyagi (TZ hard alcohol) it is a bad one." He pours me a glassful to drink straight. I take it in two gagging gulps. Then I am approached by Mary, Simon, Mwalongo, Mama Lau and Mama Max, each armed with their own needle. Yeah.. it hurt. Mjemah had another shot ready for me after my village surgury. My foot throbs as they rub Kerosene into it- This method seems weird to me but i am not about to question Tanzanians when it comes to egg sacks. I am proclaimed cured, even though every step I take hurts, but I walk anyways, because that's the kind of person I am. (On a side note: I am convinced that it has become gangrine and that my foot needs to be amputated with a machete. Margaret, who is a bit more realistic than I am, is convinced that it is just infected and I need neosporin, so maybe I will wait a bit for the amputation...
I spent 24 hours alone with Anna. I was convinced that this would rid me of any desire to ever have kids and I was shocked when it did the exact opposite. I was wary to take on two year old Anna when Mjemah had to travel for a night, but we had a blast. It was different than any babysitting I have ever done before. It was weird with no TV, no toys, no video games, we only had eachother to play with, and I learned a lot of swahili. It was weird but enjoyable to be the soul caretaker of a child, have her entirly dependant on me, call me mama and run to me when she was hurt of afraid. When you don't have anything to play with, you play with each other. We patted eatother, she played with my hair, my jewelry and nuzzled in my neck. We dance to Madonna, we napped together in the inspiration room, I painted her nails, I bathed her, I fed her... She sang until we fell asleep in some unknown Anna language, which sounded sort of like kiswahili or Kibena but was sort of something of her own. I awoke a million times in the night, Is she too hot? Is she cold? Can I feel her still breathing? I am going to be a crazy mom, but this is Africa and kids die suddenly every day, plus i am a worrier and that's just the kind of person I am. It did make me realize that this is the type of parent I want to be. One that doesn't just distract their child with TV and candy, but who is actually there to give their child what they really want a treasured adults attention and love.
The more I understand here, the less I wish I knew. I wish I was still in that blissful state of ignorance. There are hundreds of words that I understand but never use, mostly because I can't remember them until they are said. I overheard a conversation between Mary and a village woman that was spoken in quick Swahili- I think they were hoping I wouldn't catch it, I wish I hadn't. A six year old girl in my village was raped my a grown man who then inserted a knife into her vagina. She is still alive in the hopsital. The man is in Njombe in jail. I can't write anymore about this because it hurts too much, because that is the kind of person I am. So I will just use the words of Hilary Clinton, "Violence against women and child shreads the fabric that holds us together as human beings."
Each morning, as I awake to the heavy depression that weighs me down, the total helplessness, I choose to reject it. For what seems like the millionth time in Tanzania, i pick myself up. I don't give in to the urge to let it overtake me, because that is the kind of person I am. I have to fight. So I put on some upbeat music and slap on my silver "Fearless" bracelet and get ready to go kick some ass, because that is the kind of person I am. I have entirely re-vamped my AIDS training to be focused at a small group of men between the ages of 18-30 and be primarily focused on condoms. Since it is next to impossible to get them to all come to a meeting i hoof it to every hole in the wall beer shack and I teach. I follow them around, I join in their stupid gambling card games (In which I actually won all their money until they all had to drop out, they were shocked that a woman could play and then win...haha, I will get you guys.) and I teach and I teach and I teach.... Every fourth word out of my mouth is condom. I learn as much sex slang and dirty words, which cracks them up. With the testing days coming so soon, I refuse to let these guys win. I will win, because that is the kind of person I am. Maybe they won't get tested but at least they will know what options are out there. They have not beaten me yet. The sweet Brie of the first year in Image is gone, and this Brie means business.
Today I was in top form. I adressed about 30 Tanzanian guys at Mama Max's bar about AIDS and condoms. Only Mama Max knew I was coming and they were just there to drink...opps. For some unknown reason they are terrified of condoms. So i stood in front of guys my age and casually talked about sex. I hoped they could not see my hands shaking, luckily my Swahili did not fail me and after i had demonstrated puttng condom after condom on soda bottles, eventually some guys were willing to touch one. Once they saw that i would not judge them, the condoms went like a wildfire. Questions were asked an jokes made, most of them dirty so Mama Max put a lid on it. I love my Mama Max. All of the guys said they learned something, but now the most amazing part is every night there is a line outside my house... Guys waiting to collect condoms. The only rule is they have to see a demonstration again on how to correctly use one. So now everyday, I spend most of my time demonstrating correct useage, but somehow this is a small success. My hands permanently smell like latex, but now, I guess, that is the kind of person I am.
"What doesn't bend brakes, we are made to bleed and scab and heal and bleed again and turn every scar into a joke. We are made to fight and fuck and talk and fight again and sit around and laugh until we choke. I don't know who you were expecting, probably some bitch who does not budge wit eyes the size of snow. Well, I might get pissed off sometimes, but you seem like the type to hold a grudge and in the end I just let it go, in the end I just let it go.." -Ani DiFranco
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment