Thuly

Our household suffered another sad loss this month. 

Thuly has worked in this house since long before I came on the scene. Twice a week, with great kindness, she made our home tidy and our lives comfortable. When I moved here the idea of having a maid/housekeeper/domestic worker/helper sounded indulgent, exciting, and totally foreign. For the first few months it felt awkward to have someone in my space washing my dirty dishes and hanging my clothes in the closet. But over time I got used to the arrangement, which is a very normal part of South African life. Thuly was so much more than just someone who came over to do housework, she was an important person in our lives, just as we were important people in her life. She was kind and generous. She was a caring mother, sister, and daughter. She sang beautifully and had a big bright smile. She always asked about my family, she noticed and complimented our new furniture or wall color, and offered a big hug when Spooky died. 

She is yet another painful example of the terrible health problems that plague South Africa. Almost daily we hear the shockingly high disease and mortality statistics in South Africa, but it’s hard to make sense of just what a colossal waste of life it is until someone close to you falls victim. And the sad part is that if you’re here for long enough it will one day be someone you care about. 

Today, on World AIDS Day, I am reminding anyone reading this that despite huge medical advances, the HIV infection rate in Southern Africa and elsewhere is astoundingly high, and it’s quietly destroying lives and families and communities. This country has the world’s largest HIV-positive population, and an astounding 30% of pregnant women in SA are HIV positive (via). Think about the impact of a statistic like that. It’s hard to believe and to imagine. 

Today I remember Thuly and Thembi, both kind women and mothers who lost their battles this year at such young ages. Like Thembi, Thuly didn’t get quality care or respectful care. By the time she got access to the life-saving medicines that she has a constitutional right to it was too late. We’re so sad that she met such a needless, untimely end. Somewhere here there is a lesson to be learned and a call to action to respond to, I’m still trying to figure out where to start in the face of such need. 

Thuly, thank you for all that you did for us, you are missed and you will be lovingly remembered. 

10 Notable South Africanisms

With each passing day South Africa feels less and less foreign. While there many differences that I have long since gotten used to, there will always be little behaviors, words, and phenomena reminding me that I’m a stranger in a strange land.  
Here are a few for you to ponder:

10. Corollary and Capillary
First, say these words to yourself: Corollary. Capillary.
Now say them as a South African would: “core-all-a-ree” and “ca-pill-a-ree”.
Huh? Sounds weird, doesn’t it?

9. Lekker
Afrikaans for cool or good. Pronounced “Lak-ah”.
Such as: “We went to a lekker show last night.”
Or: “How are you doing, man? I’m lekker, bru, and you?”
I have yet to work this word into my vocabulary. I’m sure that one day it’ll slip unexpectedly out of my mouth and totally surprise me.

8. The word “useless”
Not a week goes by where I don’t hear people, laws, stop lights, and entire institutions described as useless. The go-to adjective to express frustration that things aren’t going your way.

7. Swimming pools
Most moderately sized houses in Joburg have pools. A friend was house-hunting recently and could not find a single home that met her specifications that didn’t have one. The funny thing is, it’s not blazing hot here. In LA heat waves would cause the corners of the pictures on the walls to curl up. In Joburg our pictures stay flat - proof that this climate is easily survivable without a pool. But of course, survivable and fun are two different things.

6. Fruits and vegetables wrapped in plastic
90% of produce comes shrink wrapped in plastic, and more often than not, also in a plastic or styrofoam container. Today I went to the market and got a single cucumber wrapped in plastic and a cabbage set on a styrofoam tray and then shrink wrapped. You know what I call that? Useless.

5. Small refrigerators and cabinet-like freezers
If I see a full size fridge or one with double doors I think, “Ooh, it’s an American style fridge!” Fridges are smaller here, which is good for me because I have a bad habit of filling one full and then slowly allowing food to go bad. I still do it, just hopefully now in slightly smaller quantities. Also, open up the freezer (the “deep freeze”) and you’re probably going to see a solid wall of drawers (like this). I find it odd.

4. Tea as a human right
You will never enter an office building without a tea station. You will never attend a meeting longer than 4 hours without a tea break and full tea service (tea, milk, sugar, and likely small snacks). Hell, even professional cricket games break for tea! And when you order tea in a restaurant you get it with your choice of hot or cold milk. After 2 years of daily tea drinking I still don’t have a real preference on this one.

3. The ability to read a fire
South Africans love their fires. Take a tried-and-true South African, march him (yep, him) 50 feet from the fire, and he’ll read it like a book. He’ll tell you how hot it is, if it needs more wood, how long until you can put the meat on, and when the meat will be done. And then he’ll walk back and cook up a delicious meal.

2. Communication struggles as a part of life
In the US non-native English speakers are also a regular part of the fabric, but in SA where the  majority of people are non-native speakers it’s a whole different ball game. Combine that with my own foreign accent and it makes for a ton of interactions that suffer a bit of miscommunication. Sitting down in a restaurant in the US and ordering a glass of water without a moment of hesitation from me or the waiter is a wonderful feeling.

1. A maid and a gardener
Thanks to Thuly and Elijah, whose hard work and kindness we deeply appreciate, we have a clean house and a verdant garden. But I can count on my fingers the number of times I’ve had to scrub a toilet, change sheets, dust, iron, wash the windows, mow the grass, or prune a tree in two years. And guess what? I don’t miss it one bit.

Thanks for keeping me on my toes, South Africa.

I miss(ed) you

Maybe it was the cold Joburg winter with its bleak brown expanses and bone-chilling nights, or homesickness that set in after a wonderful fun/family/friend-filled trip back home, or a combination of the two. Whatever the reason, the end of winter in Joburg was not my best season in this place. Fortunately though, the temperature has risen and the tide has changed. Spring is here in full force, and it’s so welcome! But before running full steam ahead into South Africa spring I’ll return once more to what now feels like a long ago LA summer…

My photos from my time in LA need no description other than to say that it was fantastic to be surrounded by so many of my old friends. The wedding of dear and fabulous Roisin and Nate was a wonderful excuse for a college reunion. And the party continued right through my 30th birthday. To say I miss these folks is an understatement.

And it is to many of these people that I owe a biggest and most heartfelt thanks for making my trip possible in the first place. Many months ago I was awakened in Joburg with a phone call from Lauren, LIbby, and my sister revealing to me the outcome of a plan that they’d hatched months prior. In the end, an astounding 50 people contributed money to fly me home for my 30th. A more perfect birthday present does not exist, nor does a more loving gesture. I still get choked up thinking about that effort, I have no doubt that it will go down as one of the most touching gifts/gestures/efforts/surprises of my life. Libby, Lauren, and the other 48 of you, thank you from the bottom of my heart.

Back in the real world, Part 2

I bid farewell to the delights of Italy- and also to Gabor who continued on to London- and boarded a plane to Seattle, which was a bit of a story in itself. I connected in Frankfurt and went through a long disorganized security check outside of my gate. Once I finally made it around the corner to the actual gate I found a table full of free food and drinks, an airplane shaped cake, a prize wheel, and smiling airline execs giving speeches in German. It seems I had unknowingly booked myself on Condor Airline’s maiden voyage between Frankfurt and Seattle.

On the jetway all of us lucky passengers were given a mini ceramic beer stein on a lanyard (just what I always wanted!).  As if that wasn’t enough, upon arrival in Seattle we were greeted with a special celebratory welcome - fire hoses spraying the plane with water. “It’s raining in Seattle…now that’s something special.” said the guy across the isle. And it wasn’t over yet— as we exited the plane we all received luggage tags commemorating the maiden voyage. Much better than the usual free peanuts that I steal as an airplane souvenir.

Take me home…in miniature!…on a lanyard!

But the memorable flight pales in comparison to the precious week I spent in Seattle with my family and friends. It was too little time, but I got to see so many great people…Like these ladies who have been my nearest and dearest for 25 years.

Since this picture was taken Piper (on the right) has gotten hitched! And the ceremony was officiated by none than Lindsey (in stripes). It’s events like this which bring to the fore the great downsides of living across the world.

Another bummer of the distance is being so far from the rest of my clan:

While I was home we celebrated, dined, walked, talked, and karaoked. We all threw a party, we frequented the new neighborhood ice cream joints, my sister and I staycationed, my mom settled into retirement. There is a decent chance that my friend Malia and I were abruptly cut off for singing what the DJ deemed to be an awful rendition of It’s Raining Men. Personally I thought we were in our element.

In short, it was high quality time spent with lots of people who I love dearly. And no offense to Condor Airlines, I know they tried hard, but the fire hoses on the runway are a distant memory when compared to the rest of my Seattle celebrations.

 

** Update **

#1 Special Sister sent over some photos of true Seattle splendor: birthday karaoke shenanigans and knit-bombed trees. Seattle, you are sweet, colorful, and you have the voice of a angel.

Thembelihle

Last week was a hard one. We lost my colleague and officemate, Thembelihle. Thembi was only 28 years old and has two lovely daughters ages 9 and 2. Thembi was loud and energetic, she and I shared an office for 6 months and it seemed that nearly every person on the floor popped by regularly to chat, gossip, and be on the receiving end of her big smile. Quite suddenly last February she got ill and was out of the office for 3 weeks. When she returned she was weak and frail, she seemed fragile and scared. But one day last month I heard her loud laugh in the hallway and thought to myself, our girl is bouncing back. Shortly after that I heard that she was once again in the hospital. 

Her diagnosis was TB and although it hasn’t been directly confirmed with me, she likely was co-infected with HIV. She died last Sunday in Joburg General Hospital. The health statistics in South Africa are shocking and inescapable—this country has the largest population in the world of HIV-positive and TB infected people. The co-infection rate of these two diseases is extremely high, according to many estimates 70% of TB infected people are also HIV positive. I cite these statistics all the time, and I worked closely with TB patents last year. But the epidemic(s) still somehow felt far from my reality. Thembi’s death has changed that. As my boss said last week, “We talk of TB as a national tragedy, but here it is as a personal tragedy.” The statistics now have a face, a smile, a laugh, and a name. 

Apart from the loss of Thembi herself, what makes this so upsetting is that things didn’t have to end up this way. TB and HIV are both preventable. TB is curable. HIV is treatable, and people with access to medications and good care can live healthy lives for decades. The South African government has promised access to ARVs and TB medication for anyone who needs them, yet South Africans are still dying in droves. I don’t know what kind of treatment Thembi received, she had some access to good doctors thanks to her position at the Wits Medical School, but I doubt she got the personal care she needed. For someone like her without the means to visit private doctors and get care in private hospitals the likelihood of getting truly good care is quite slim. I know with certainty that if I had come down with the same ailments as Thembi that my fate would have been very different from hers. Thanks to medical insurance and disposable income I would have had access to the country’s finest health care and best private hospitals, I would have gotten the care that I needed. But if you’re poor you do not have that luxury. And what luxury is that? It seems to me that it’s the luxury of being cared for as if your life is not expendable. No one’s life is expendable.  

South Africa is a harsh place for so many millions of people. Inequity is a part of daily life here, but this tragedy is my most heartbreaking example so far of South Africa’s (in)famous disparities. I really didn’t think that one of my coworkers would end up as a public health statistic—another young person needlessly lost to disease and inadequate care—I am very sad to say that I was mistaken. 

We are going to miss you, Thembi.

Our department, taken October 2010. Thembi is in the front row in the yellow shirt.