Saturday, May 28
Today was certainly a unique learning experience. Instead of going with the rest of the group to the Kirstenbosch Garden and the University of Cape Town, Hazar, Erin, and I went to Khayelitsha (a township) to help Treatment Action Campaign and Doctors Without Borders with a free HIV testing event. And by “help,” I really mean we were there to learn, as always. Whenever we asked if there was anything we could do to help, the response was always “Just relax!” That’s how it is around here, at least from my experience.
Our guide and the man who picked us up from Hillcrest was an Italian who worked for DWB named Gisepe. We spent a lot of the morning waiting for a spare key to be delivered to TAC and listening to Gisepe explain many of the shortcomings of the DWB project in Khayelitsha. He said the workers are often “sick” and just won’t show up to work. “Even if they haven’t taken care of something, they will tell you they have if you ask them,” he told us. “It’s so frustrating, because then I’ll show up expecting it to be done and it won’t be, and that just makes me even angrier than if they had just told me the truth in the first place.” Reflecting on his statement, I think this may just be a cultural difference in South Africa. It reminds me of peoples’ tendency here to agree to come to a gathering when invited, even when they don’t intend to actually show up. It’s simply considered impolite to refuse.
We finally arrived at the site of the testing event and set up a small, white tent. A group of young girls arrived to dance on a nearby stage in order to attract more people to the area. They came up to us and gave us a hug one by one. It was adorable. My favorite part of the day was when we got to go out into the township and distribute pamphlets to the residents to try to raise awareness about the testing. Erin, Hazar, and I split up and each went with a local volunteer. We wove in and out of the shacks on a sandy-like ground, occasionally popping into houses with open doors. Dogs roamed around looking ragged and miserable. People generally looked more miserable. It had rained the night before, and the day was cold and windy. Many of their houses had holes in the roofs, and most were one room only. The little kids with snot running down their faces stared at me like I was some kind of mysterious apparition. One little boy fixated on me, wide-eyed, from his doorway and tugged at the sleeve of his little friend. As I was leaving, I did happen to catch the word “umlungu” from him. I smiled. The word means “white person.”
In general, people were fairly receptive to our efforts. I found this surprising, imagining how offended many people in the United States would be if a stranger came to the doorway and handed them a pamphlet to go get tested for HIV. Despite our efforts, however, only 14 people actually showed up to get tested. This could have been due to several factors, including the crummy weather. But it is also clear that the event was disorganized and lacked adequate publicity. The health volunteers were clearly frustrated by the turnout. However, they had the hope that the next one would turn out better.
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