Nkosi Haven

In May I wrote a blog that discussed a book I recently read by Jim Wooten. The book, “We Are All the Same” chronicles the life of Gail Johnson a woman living in Johannesburg who started an AIDS home for mothers and children and during the process found herself taking a young boy with AIDS into her family and her heart. The story spoke to me on many levels. I was touched by the connection between boy and woman, I found myself getting lost in their trials and triumphs, in the love and dedication between the two. I was impressed by their strength and learned more how to relate to my patients at the AIDS center through their story.

While we were wandering around shops in Johannesburg last weekend we walked into a used book store. The first book that caught my attention was “We Are All The Same”, ironic I thought considering we were probably just a few minutes from Nkosi’s Haven, the site Gail Johnson had created. I found their number and address in a phone book and after getting lost for a good 25 minutes, my patient roommates and I found the center.

Gail unfortunately was not feeling well and had gone home sick, but we were given a tour of the beautiful facilities. I was impressed with the size of the place which houses currently 91 children and 32 mothers and is still not at max capacity. The accommodation includes housing, food, love and support, treatment administration and encouragement, as well as specialized therapy sessions for children (speech and language, occupational therapy and a social integration play room). There was a beautiful bakery on the property a brightly colored leisure room and various places for children to play.




As we were leaving I rememberd the copy of “We Are All The Same” that I had purchased. I asked one of Gails co-workers if she thought Gail would be willing to sign it and mail it back to me if I left money. In all honesty I wasn’t expecting it to realistically happen, but two days later I received a package in the mail with a very kind note in the front of the book.

“Dearest Meghan,
Wishing you all the very best in life and in your future career in nursing. All my love – Gail Johnson”

I have recently been trying to decide where I want to go once this year is complete – it has been a toss up between going back to school for speech therapy or nursing. I never told anyone at Nkosi’s Haven that I was interested in nursing, but perhaps it’s a sign?

I'm brushing up on looking down I'm working on my roar

Last weekend the girls and I took our first ever big road trip together. Our boss April came from the states for our last site visit and the office kindly took us on a trip to a game reserve near the baorder of Botswana.

We estimated our trip would take 10 hours so we had an early start. Sinead kindly set up the ipod and speakers to play our favorite community song "Alejandro" which came bumping through our house at 2am Friday morning. I couldn't help but laugh as Mary-Kate and I silently laid in bed and took turns echoing various combinations of "thats loud", "thats so loud". We collected our things, packed our bags and at 3am embarked upon our trip.
Our 6am breakfast of PB/Honey and Bananas on toast

After 12 hours of rotating through our various cd’s, seeing outrageous signs including a warning for Owls for the next 5k and a HIJACKING HOTSPOT FOR THE NEXT 6K (see below) stopping for a few bathroom and coffee breaks, and one minor “detour” we arrived at Mosetlha bush camp. During the ten minutes it took us to drive from the main gate to our bush camp we saw elephants, zebra and giraffe – a promising start to a fantastic weekend.




Our weekend included two night drives and a full day drive, many scrumptious traditional Zulu meals and “Sundowners” – South Africas version of happy hour where we got excellent drinks and a beautiful sunset!

The game drives were incredible; we saw everything- lions, rhinos, elephants, monkeys, baboons, zebras and giraffe.
The first evening game drive we crossed paths with a gigantic giraffe


as well as two very casual lounging lions. We were at most 10 feet away from the pair who languidly looked us up and down and returned to their naps. During the day drive we saw a pregnant giraffe, numerous Zebras and more lethargic lions. The second night drive we were blessed to see a mother Rhino followed by the smallest yet fattest baby rhino running, closely being followed by two lions in pursuit.

As we headed back to the camp we stopped by a watering hole and emerging from the pitch black night came the outlines of elephants. Not one or two, not twenty or thirty, but close to 200; bathing, drinking water, playing and splashing, itching themselves on trees. It was something that no words or pictures could do justice. The eight of us in the rover just sat in silence mesmerized.

After our first night game drive we got back and they had set up lanterns leading down the various paths – a beautiful scene. The bush camp we stayed at was very primitive it had no running water or electricity, a lesson in really living simply. The huts that we slept in had a roof and two walls – the other two were partially covered in somewhat of a cabana style. Sleeping in the fresh air was amazing, probably the best two nights of sleep I’ve had since being here.

To take a shower we each got a bucket of water which was poured into a metal contraption that used a fire underneath to heat the water. Once heated and mixed with a portion of cold water you put the water into a second bucket in the bathroom and used a pulley to hoist the water above your head. An off on lever allowed the water to be turned off between latherings, something which really made me realize how much water I waste on a normal basis. One bucket lasted me through shaving my legs, washing and conditioning my hair and face and I even had some left over.

Our weekend safari concluded with a night stop over in Johannesburg which is about half way from where we were to home. We spent a day at the Apartheid Museum which was both educational and overwhelming. An experience that I would relate to visiting the Holocaust Museum. It was important yet very hard to witness the separation of a country, the harsh reality of a group of people that I have come to love and the brutality of mankind. I was certainly taken aback, but I think it was really beneficial for us to visit the Museum. It’s difficult to believe that Apartheid occurred so recently, that many of the older individuals we come in contact with on a daily basis actually lived through it.

After the museum we were blessed with hospitality and kindness from my extended family members who opened up their home to us. We spent our evening in Joburg driving around (getting lost in ehhh) and finding the Airport to drop April off. The following day we enjoyed a delicious breakfast with Leon and Charlotte and then made our way through the city. Our day in the city was filled with wonder and excitement; we wandered through bookstores, cafes, clothing stores and antique dealers. We ate lunch at a funky café and were able to visit an orphanage and meet a friend of Mary-Kate’s.

I wish we had more time to explore the city; Joburg is somewhere I need to return to – if not during this year then sometime in the near future. Its rich history is abundant and the progress it has made is evident.

Call me Miss Meggie

For various reasons and after a lot of extensive soul searching I came to the difficult, yet necessary decision that I would no longer be working at the Community Center. The decision was something that I had been struggling with making for quite some time now. It took me eight months of being more unhappy than happy to realize that I needed to make a change. It is something that I now realize should have happened long ago. It’s a frustrating feeling to be upset every time you leave work. It’s bothersome to feel underutilized and under appreciated– feelings that made me anxious going to work each Monday and made me a much more negative community member then I readily like to admit

I realized that I had just under three months left in South Africa and that although being a volunteer is 95% about putting others needs before your own, there are certain times where if you don’t look out for yourself you are actually doing everyone as a whole a big disservice.

I had heard of StreetWise through Fr. Tony who came from PA with a group of High School boys a few months ago. One Monday morning I found the number online, called Sr. Helena a kind older woman from Ireland. She invited me to come meet her and the boys and the rest is history.

StreetWise is a facility about 25 minutes from my house. Their outreach team travels through the streets of Durban and meet with boys living on the street. After extensive conversations with them about what brought them to the street and what their goals for the future are they offer the boys a place to stay off the street. They provide love, food and shelter to about 40 boys. They educate them on the premise, give them counseling and eventually place them into traditional school settings.

I was originally going to help out in the classroom as a teacher’s aide two days a week, but the teacher Leko liked how I was interacting with the children as asked me if I would be willing to do more work. I now have an hour in the mornings where I do an English comprehension lesson. And then I, along with three German volunteers run an hour of 'study time' creating math worksheets and helping the children answer and process the questions. In the afternoons we’ve been doing life skills projects: baking lessons, team building games, sports activities, music etc.

My days at StreetWise have already proved to be long, and challenging. Teaching is no easy feat especially when the age range is from 7-18 and the education levels range from never being in school, little to no understanding of the English language, not being able to read or write to the complete other end of the spectrum –some boys have gone to school before, some are fluent in English, some are so smart they are bored!

I've already learned that in the classroom Nice Meg needs to take a backseat and Miss Meggie needs to be a bit more firm. I've learned that if I bump rap coming to and from work and during break if I talk about hip hop music and rappers or showcase my terrible soccer skillzz I win over hearts. I've learned that a one inch pencil is better then no pencil at all and that a hen sitting on a nest of eggs in the classroom is not only commonplace, but provides comic relief. I've learned that regardless of how many times I say my name is Meg or Meghan that everyone - children, teachers, nuns alike will call me Miss Meggie (spelled Maggie or Miggie).

Thank God for my roommates who have been teaching all year and who have let me borrow supplies, books and ideas and for my dear Mother from whom I learned the art of loving children and patience in the classroom.

Cheers to a quarter Century

I just got home from having our typical Wendesday night dinner with the priests...amusing that, that is something that is routine for me! This Wednesday dinner consisted of our typically cheese and wine hour, but was also special because April our boss from the States is here joining us and also because we celebrated my birthday (which is tomorrow). As the priests, April and my roommates sang happy birthday and I made my wish I couldn't help but take a moment to think.

Tomorrow I turn 25

25 is one of those mile maker ages in life; one that when you are young you apply a significance to. I used to think that turning 25 defined independence or maturity, responsibility or adulthood. Realistically all I can do now is rent a car in the USA, yet I live in South Africa and could probably have rented a car here ages ago.

I remember being younger and living life between my house on 21 Fitch Ave and Beckys on 21 North Street. Her, Kayla and I spent hours making up dances, collecting berries, riding bikes, making wedding cakes out of sand and planning our lives. [By the time I was 22 I thought I'd be married, 24 own a home and 25 have twins...all the important things in life]

I remember living in Vermont turning 16, my Mom took me to get my license. I remember thinking I was SOOOO old. I remember living in Chelmsford Townhouse and turning 21. Everyone got dressed up and took me out to eat and then the big girls took me out on the town for a night of shenanigans.

And now here I am years later. I'm living in South Africa, I'm surrounded by landscapes, sun rises and sun sets that take my breath away each day. I've been introduced to cultures, a language and a way of living that is so far beyond the scope I had when I was a daydreaming 10 year old. I've made friends and I've made family. I'm not married nor do I have children. I haven't started or finished Graduate School I don't own a house or even an apartment for that matter and I have no real idea of what I'm doing come December 2010, but I am content.

Reflecting on where I've been in the last 25 years - where I want to go - who I've met - who I've yet to meet, makes me realize how much of my life, the world and myself I've yet to experience.

Tomorrow I'll wake up and be 25, I'll carry out my day at the AIDS center just like any other Thursday and then Friday I will get up with my roommates at 3am and drive to the border of Botswana and will be on a Safari all weekend...I mean you might as well turn a quarter century in style right?

Cause out on the edge of darkness, there rides a peace train

Michael and Freeman are quite possibly two of the most polar opposite people. Michael an older man grew up in England whereas Freeman a young man grew up in the valleys of KwaZulu Natal, South Africa. Michael a travel enthusiast moved to South Africa after a hard divorce – Freeman never married and only travelled the world in the depths of his own mind. Michael healthy, Freeman sick. Michael white, Freeman black.

Despite the divergences something brought them into each others lives and something even stronger kept them there. The bond between them puts a definition on the title ‘best friends’. It is unlike anything I have ever witnessed.

When Freeman entered the Respite Centre he barely looked like a human, let alone an adult. His skeletal body haphazardly jerked itself to the empty bed, his eyes staring into the distance. Freeman’s last ounce of strength evaporated as he collapsed on the bed. A moment of panic washed over me as I thought he might pass away then and there.

Suddenly his eyes began to focus, his breath became steadier and his mouth formed the words “thank you”. I thought his newfound source of strength was nothing short of a miracle until I realized that Freeman and Michael were holding hands; willpower to survive being transmitted between the palms of friends.

Over the last two months I have formed a strong friendship with both Freeman and Michael and watched in awe as their companionship flourished. It seemed as though as Freeman’s body became weaker day by day his memory became sharper. Many afternoons I would sit by his bed deep in conversation. We covered everything from our favorite foods to where we were the morning of September 11th. From the practicality of Skype to the disappointment we feel when people don’t understand our sarcasm.

We talked about the power of love and the devastation of disease and our shared love for Cat Stevens. He told me all of the places he wanted to travel when he felt better and suggested places that I should visit while in South Africa.

On the last day I saw him Freeman retold me the story of his friendship with Michael, this time with a fondness surrounding him. The two met years ago and Michael has been financially supporting him and his educational endeavours since. When Freeman matriculated (passed his final exams senior year of high school) Michael surprised him with an adventure. His tale goes a little something like this:

“He surprised me! He said get in the car we’re going somewhere I’ve already got a bag packed for you. And he did! We drove and drove I think we drove the entire length of Africa and back again. We stopped at some places to stay and they were so beautiful. Michael went to bed because he was tired from driving, but not me! I had a drink [chuckles to himself] okay maybe I had a few drinks. Vodka, hah that stuff is hard [his sullen cheek bones wriggling as he remembered the taste.] Then Meg then the car stopped. Michael made me put this black tie over my eyes. He got me out of the car and I could hear this sound unlike anything. It was so powerful. We walked for a while and I was trusting Michael to lead me in the right direction. And then he took of my mask and I opened my eyes and we were at the biggest waterfall. Victoria Falls it’s called. It was beautiful. He calls me Casanova because he thinks too many ladies like me, but really he is the one that always cared the most. He’s my best friend.”

I don’t know who had more tears rolling down their face, Freeman or I but we were both smiling. That was the best thing about Freeman he always ALWAYS made me smile. Even in his weakest of moments his giant smile found me and his friendship surrounded me.

Without fail up until the last day Michael was at the Respite Centre every single day, bringing Freeman juice or crackers, different types of fruit and most importantly hope. The two of them held friendship in their palms. They showcased love on the outside instead of masking it under the skin.

It’s been two days since Freeman lost his battle with AIDS. Now this might be fate or it might be that this blog has taken me hours to piece together - going through the entire repertoire of my ipod, but as I am sitting here teary eyed trying to finish writing, thinking about the funeral this Saturday “Peace Train” by Cat Stevens is playing on my ipod. I can’t help but hope that it’s a last parting gift from my good friend Freeman.

“Now I've been crying lately,
thinking about the world as it is
Why must we go on hating,
why can't we live in bliss

Cause out on the edge of darkness,
there rides a peace train
Oh peace train take this country,
come take me home again”