Four Months of Madness

There are times in Peace Corps when I can sit in my room and listen to the mosque calling, the birds chirping, and the music blaring from the café across from my house. I can stare at my wall, write, read a book, do yoga, and stare at my wall some more.

Then there are times when I’m swooped up by a whirlwind of projects, events and what we so frequently refer to  here as ‘programs.’ The last four months have been part of that whirlwind.

It all started in April with the celebration of World Malaria Day. This yearly event was celebrated by the Ethiopian government in a small village near my house. One of my Program Assistants traveled down from Addis to attend. We spent the first day in Jimma, listening to research results and project outcomes from organizations around the nation. Then we traveled to a rural village for a tour of a local health post and to learn about the process of residual spraying. As we drove up the road, hundreds of kids lined the street clapping and cheering for us. It felt like the welcoming of royalty.

After the tour, the local people had tables set up with a variety of traditional foods to taste. It was a huge event for the rural women, and it was fun to see their excitement.

On the last of the 3-day celebration, chairs were lined under a tent in a field, and numerous people participated in music, speeches, dramas and acrobatics to spread the word for anti-malarial efforts. We came home with a T-shirt, and a small container of locally-made mosquito repellent.

The next big event was in May. A few volunteers and I designed and led a 5-day facilitation workshop for 29 female lecturers from 3 universities. The training was part of the University Preparation Camp project that I’ve been working on over the past year, helping to support first-year female university students. Originally, two Peace Corps Volunteers and I were in charge of leading student trainings. Our new objective was to give teachers the skills and confidence to facilitate discussions on their own. The training was centered on 11 topics, including self-esteem, leadership, reproductive health and HIV/AIDS.

I came to the training expecting a group of shy, reserved Ethiopian women. Instead, I was met with a group of engaged, thought-provoking  leaders. The women were inspiring.

Next was our Close-of-Service conference, which started May 27. Close-of Service. That means that the 5th group of Peace Corps volunteers who came to Ethiopia two years ago are preparing to go home.

The G5 Jimma Loopers (minus Chelsea and Laura)

Our group came in with 69 volunteers, and lost about a third of them along the way. The surviving members met in Addis and proceeded down to Lake Langano for one last week of memories. Our sessions focused on job searching and readjusting. Our free time consisted of Whiffle ball, beer pong, massages and relaxing by the pool. On our last night, we celebrated with a bon fire and sheep roast, a guitar around the fire, and sharing all of the embarrassing and hilarious experiences we’ve had.

Directly after COS, I traveled with 8 spectacular volunteer friends to visit The Once-Forbidden City of Harrar.

After Harrar, I had three days to kill in Addis while I waited for my friend Amanda to fly in from America. I thought perhaps I would use these days to take it easy and rest up. Instead, I stayed with a friend and had two adventurous nights at big parties, and re-visited a lesson I learned too many times in college.

Amanda flew in Sunday morning, and we went straight from the airport to Mercado. (Mercado = sketchy, crowded bus station) She jumped right into the Ethiopian experience by having to bum-rush a bus and fight for a seat, then sit for hours while the bus stopped a hundred times along the way for ch’at.  We made it to Agaro by nightfall.

The next three days were spent touring my little town, trying the food and participating in a coffee ceremony at a local teacher’s house. It was everything I loved about Ethiopia, and it was fun to be able to share it.

The last part of her trip included a visit to Hawassa, a beautiful lake-side city in Ethiopia. It was a 15-hour journey from Agaro, and we made it all in one day. (She’s a total champ.)

In Hawassa, we visited the fish market, hand-fed some monkeys, laid out by the infinity pool and ate a lot of good food. During her stay, the Ethiopian soccer team beat South Africa for a spot in the World Cup Tournament and the whole city paraded in excitement.

Her 10-day visit was over far too soon.

I’m back in Agaro now, and it’s been non-stop camp-planning mode ever since. Tomorrow I leave for this year’s Nekempte Camp GLOW. (Camp GLOW 2012 ). And yesterday I found out I have amoebas.

There’s certainly never a dull moment here.

Teaching Girls to GLOW

Camp GLOW, Nekemte, Ethiopia

Last week, 34 girls came together from seven different communities for a life-changing experience I will never forget.Camp GLOW (Girls Leading Our World) is a camp for girls organized by Peace Corps volunteers  all over the world. This year, I worked with 10 other volunteers to create a Camp GLOW in  Nekemte, Ethiopia. This camp comprised of 9th and 10th grade girls from the southwest regions of the country. For most of them, it was their first time ever leaving home.

The camp started Sunday when we all gathered at the university. It took many of us several hours by bus to arrive. As the girls began meeting, they were mostly silent. They simply stared, uncertain and shy.

The first day, we organized them all into rooms and assigned each an animal group: Eagles, Elephants, Lions and Monkeys. A few counslers were assigned to each group and the process of getting to know each other began.

Sunday night was a lot of figuring out logistics and setting the ground rules. The girls got pink tote bags with journals and a few toiletries. They were given journal prompts every night and wrote in them just before bed.

During journal time, counslers met to discuss the upcoming day. We had programming all planned out weeks ahead of time. Still, life throws out obstacles and plans change. We hung giant charts on the wall for each day and had cards with each session taped on. Cards were switched around like a puzzle as we discussed what was working, what wasn’t, and what the realities of our time were. Contingincies were planned on top of contingincies. And even those changed.

Camp days started early and ended late, and each was filled with different events. There were skits on peer pressure, “girl talk” about sexual health, games to teach about HIV and some games just for fun. We had sessions to practice leadership and how to build teamwork. We taught about fuel-efficient cooking methods and learned how to plant trees. We had crafts to make useful items, and crafts that were just for fun. We had a day to visualize the future, created goals and planned out how to take lessons from camp back home. The last night was a giant bonfire, where the girls had their first taste of s’mores and wrote inspiring messages to each other in their journals. We sang songs, gave awards and recognized everyone for their hard work.

There is so much that can be said about this camp. The girls who started out so silent and shy were raising their hands to be leaders by the end. Girls who could mindlessly recite the use of condoms in HIV prevention actually saw one for the first time, and learned how to properly use it. They discovered first-hand the power of believing in yourself and had an opportunity to ask questions they never could before. It was overwhelming to see the transformation in every single one of them.

With all of the great things that came out of this camp, you’d think it went off without a hitch. That, however, could not be further from the truth. The latrines we had to use were up a muddy hill and covered in filth, our meal plans fell through, it rained at all the wrong times and we were out of running water for three days. I fell in the mud, twice, and got locked in a room for over an hour.  There were three different languages being spoken and time was consistantly misjudged.

Yet despite the setbacks, every counsler remained calm, optomistic and helpful. Problem-solving was an ongoing skill and everyone pulled together with enthusiasm. Honestly, the patient teamwork of every counsler was inspiring. And we couldn’t have done alone. Four Ethiopian counterparts, as well as three junior counslers, were indespensible. It was one miraculous team putting on one miraculous event. And it was truely unforgettable.

If you’d like to see the camp in action, here’s a link to some photos:

http://www.facebook.com/media/set/?set=a.10100298431338561.2388771.56008677&type=1&l=e3b11fe1cb

A Lesson That Couldn’t be Taught

I volunteered  as an HIV/AIDS educator in classrooms and visited with AIDS patients at Terence Cardinal Cooke Health Care Center in New York. While this may have qualified me for an invitation in the Peace Corps, it was the medical review process that really showed me a thing or two about AIDS. Here’s the story…

I sat in the waiting room of the VA, relieved that after many wrong buildings and rooms, I had finally found the right place. The nurse called my name and I followed her back. We sat down and discussed all of the paperwork I had brought and the tests I would need to take.

“While your here,” she asked, “would you like your flu shot?” I told her I didn’t really care. I never usually get them, and rarely get sick. “Well, they’re right here,” she said, “and I can give it to you now. We really recommend them.” Okay, I said. I guess it can’t hurt.

I received a flu shot, along with a tetanus shot and a TB skin test, then went back for my labs. The tech pulled vile, after vile, after vile from his box. “How many are there?” I asked. Even he was a little shocked. “Ten,” he said.  “There’s a lot of tests.” I left with an appointment to return in three days.

Three days later…
I arrived to my appointment and went back with the nurse. Although I was only there to check the TB skin test, I was curious about the labs. “Did you get any of my results back yet?” I asked. “Hmm…” she said, “Let’s see. Yep, looks like some of them are back, let me just print these for you.”

She seemed to be having trouble with the printer, so she grabbed the lab tech and asked for assistance. She then handed me papers with a list of  letters and numbers. I asked her what they meant. The nurse looked at them and handed them to the lab guy. He started explaining, then stopped. “Maybe we shouldn’t be giving these to you now. We should wait for the doctor to go over them with you.” I wondered out loud what that meant, and he told me that tests can mean different things.  He pointed at a few numbers that appeared outside the normal range. He left to talk to the doctor (whom I could see across the hall) and returned, saying I would need to make an appointment next week. “Well your TB test is negative,” the nurse offered.

Next week…
I arrived for my appointment, ready to face my anxiety. I sat at the desk across from the doctor as she rifled through papers looking at numbers. “Everything is fine,” she said. “Sometimes numbers are little to one side or the other, but I don’t see anything too alarming here. You’re tests are fine.” (Whew!) 

“We’re still waiting on the HIV test,” she said, “but that can take a little longer. I’ll call you when it’s ready.” Then added, “Oh.. wait… who’s is this?”  She picked up a paper and scanned the type. “Oh… I guess this is yours.” She set the paper down and looked up. “Well, it looks like you are HIV positive.”

 Her tone was so calm, so matter-of-factly, you’d think she was telling me the color of my hair. “What do you mean?” I asked. I raced through my mind, searching for anything to explain this.

“We still need to send it in for a second test,” she said.

This isn’t right, this isn’t happening, I thought. I asked how often the test comes out wrong, and she said she wasn’t sure. I further questioned what might make it come out wrong and she said she didn’t know.  

“Well,” she asked, “What types of behaviors do you engage in? Unsafe sex? Drugs?”  No, I told her.  “Not even cocaine? you know you can contract it by sniffing, too.”

My mind went in a hundred million directions. Am I going to die? Oh my god, I might die. But then I’m thinking this can’t be right. And what research have I missed in the last five years that determined HIV is transferable though sniffing? “I thought you could only get it through blood, or unsafe sex?” I asked. 

“Well, no.” she responded. “You can get it other ways. You have to think about the kinds of people who do drugs. If you’re with people sniffing cocaine, you’re putting yourself at risk.”

Well wait a minute, no. I was getting off track. That wasn’t me, I hadn’t put myself at risk. “When will the second test come back?” I asked. “This can’t be right.”

“Well,” she said, “let me just call the lab and see.” She picked up the phone and dialed, asked a few questions and hung up.

“It will take about a week,” she said. “But 80 percent of the time, it comes back positive.” I sunk into my chair and felt my face getting hot. As I opened to speak, the tears rolled out. My voice was shaky. “So.. there’s an 80 percent chance I’m HIV positive?”

“Yes,” she said. “But don’t be so worried. These days, with medications, its curable.” Again, I wondered what research I had missed in the last five years. “I have a few patients who have it,” she said. “They are fine, they lead normal lives.”

 I could not stop the tears. I tried to compose myself as I realized this was the most afraid I’d ever been in my life. The doctor looked up at me and said, “They’re going to wonder what happened to you out there.”  I asked her for a tissue.

I left feeling stunned, wondering if I should try to drive or call for a ride. I picked up my phone and opened Google. I needed more information. As I searched, countless pages came up relating false HIV tests with the flu shot. I read every page I could find, then drove home and read more. This was it, I thought, it was the flu shot. A week later, the doctor confirmed I was negative.

While my story may end in relief, for many it doesn’t.  In 2009, 1.8 million people in sub-Saharan Africa were newly diagnosed  with HIV(UNAIDS). And while the western world has it largely reduced to a chronic disease (not cured), in Africa it is often deadly.

 As I embark to try and change the impact of this disease, I will not forget the emotions that accompany a positive diagnosis. I will take with me an understanding of how even our Western doctors can be misinformed and judgemental, and I will take with me as much compassion as I can for everyone affected.

(And for those of you still wondering: blood, semen, vaginal fluids and breast milk are the only ways the disease can be transferred.)