Can You Hear Me?

A few weeks back I was sitting outside the clinic, it was the afternoon, and few patients were left inside. A boy (who I later found out was 19) walked up to me with a sign that read he was deaf and was begging to pay his school fees. I didn't have my purse on me at the time and so I tried to asking him in sign if he could wait while I went to get my purse. Who knew I’d be using what little sign language I know in Nigeria? He looked confused, but got the message and a few minutes later I came back with a meager 100 Naira. I told him I was sorry it wasn't much, but he didn’t seem to mind. In fact you would have thought I gave him 1,000 Naira from the look on his face. From there we communicated a little bit more through sign and then mostly through writing back and forth. His father died when he was young and his mother still lived in the village. He’s in a special education school in a state not too far from Jos. Somehow the conversation turned to him signing "pain" and pointing to both kidneys. From there I learned he'd been having blood in his urine and pain in his sides. I found out he was HIV positive and hadn't seen a doctor about most recent problem. I told him he needed to come to the clinic the next morning and see a doctor. He must have sat there with me for an hour or two, even after we had stopped talking. As if, he was completely content just sitting there with me, reading and re-reading our written conversation. Some how it made me sad; I wanted to talk more with him. Why didn’t I pay more attention in those sign classes at work? After he left I couldn't stop thinking about him. What sort of life was ahead of him in a country that makes little provisions for the disabled? He begs for his tuition. With a beggar on every street corner I have to wonder how much he actually pulls in and is it enough for him to continue is education? And then what? How will he earn a living? Will he be forced to a life on the streets as so many disabled are?
The following day I had to go to Abuja to change my plane ticket, so I wasn’t around when he came back. But apparently he showed up the next morning with a sign that read “Where is Mikki?” My friend Yemi spotted him and corrected the “M” to a “N” and told him I had traveled. I tried explaining that the day before, but it must not have registered. Anyways, I’m not sure what happened to him. At some point he left the clinic and I haven’t seen him since. I pray provisions will be made for him, wherever he is, whatever he does. It’s strange how your soul can connect with a perfect stranger like that. But there was something about him, something that drew me in and touched me. Such a small exchange, and yet I am forever changed. I see now more than ever the ministry of presence.

Chicken Little

I had gone to the market with Blessing that afternoon, she bought the fixings for "vegetable soup" which she had been talking about all morning. First she bought fish, which was an experience unto it's own-there's just a pile of frozen fish, like whole fish, head, eyes, skin, bones, the whole enchilada, then a woman who's sitting on what looked like an overturned bucket of sorts. You pick out which one you want, and when I say pick, I mean you're literally handling all the fish to find the one you want. So you have your fish, and then fish lady uses her super machete to chop off the head, slice off the fins and dice it into little steak like pieces. She throws it into a small plastic bag and calls it good. The whole while there's swarms of flies buzzing all over the place. So that happened, and then we went from stand to stand gathering tomatoes, spinach, onion etc. Once she got everything she needed we headed back to her house to drop off the goodies. I think I may have mentioned this before, Blessings "kitchen" is more or less a cement block next to the room she sleeps in. Imagine a cube and remove one side, that's her kitchen. There's a single charcoal burner and a couple of benches with some pots and pans. Finding this totally intriguing I walked over to get a better visual of how all this might work. Like, where do you keep your water? Where do you eat? Where do you chop food? Do you have a cutting board? So anyways I'm rambling on, playing a round of 20 questions when I hear a noise.
"Blessing...what's that?"
"That my chicken."
"Your chicken?"
"Yeah, my students bought me chicken for Christmas."
I turn the corner to find a rooster with one leg tied to a post in the middle of the cube.
"Blessing, there's a chicken in your kitchen."
She laughs. "I know, I feed it every morning."
Rooster crowing
"No but seriously Blessing, there's a chicken in your kitchen."
Still laughing. "Yes, I will fix it when my children come home from village."
"Soooo, when you say 'fit it' you're going to kill it yourself? Like, right here?"
"Yes."
"But, how do you, I don't, where do you..."
I couldn't even get the words out. It was so far beyond my ability to understand at that time, I was speechless. I asked her about the process in detail later after I had some time to compose myself. Turns out she's never actually done this before, slaughtering a chicken. But she has seen in done in the village...so I guess that's all the training one needs?

"Live Simply...

...that others might simply live." I don't remember where I read that, but I've adopted it as my motto. Meet Ahmed, a man in his mid 40's with a wife and five kids. Ahmed has an extra-cranial tumor that's been growing on the back of his head for over ten years; it's a little larger than a grapefruit. Because of the positioning of the tumor, sores have started started to develop, they break open and scab as the tumor continues to grow in size. Can you even imagine what his life might be like? Ashamed, embarrassed, depressed...He always wears an over sized hat to cover it up, keep people from staring. The surgery to remove this tumor is $50,000 Naira, that's about $400. He's only managed to save 3,000. He has five kids to put through school after all. Up till now I've been living on a very generous $100 a month, more than enough to make my life comfortable in the land of little. When I saw him that Friday afternoon, something in my soul broke. He looked like he had given up. it was written all over his face. Knowing he needed the surgery, yet no hope in sight. Yemi (a medical student from Mayo Med School) and I decided we would pool our money together and pay for all the expenses of the surgery. He came to the clinic faithfully everyday to have the wounds dressed and lab work drawn. Each time I saw him he would say, "God bless you, thank you." Then exactly one week later I was standing over him in the OR, watching as the doctors removed the tumor that had plagued him for so long. When I went to visit him post surgery, it was like meeting a totally different person. Not so much because of his now absent mass, but because of his spirit. Something in him was now alive where it wasn't before. He was grinning from ear to ear. And it wasn't until that moment that I realized I had never once seen him smile.

Faith Alive

You know what's amazing to me? Everything at Faith Alive is free. Their counseling services, HIV testing, doctor visits, lab tests, medications (ARV's and otherwise), sewing school, computer school, transitional teen housing, food bank, it's all 100% F-R-E-E. There is no other hospital like it in Jos, and I would venture to guess in all of Nigeria, although I'm not positive. Other hospitals in this area charge for every little thing: the hand card, the visit with the doctor, the lab test and the medication; all separate fees.
I went to Blessing's house last week. Mind you, she lives with her two boys and her sister-in-law. Her 'house' is a ten by ten room with a double mattress on the floor, clothes hanging on free standing bars on the walls and everything else lining the perimeter of the room. She and her boys sleep on the bed together and her sister pulls out another mattress that leans up against the wall during the day. She cooks and bathes outside. Everything was very neat and tidy, clean and organized. Even as she was mourning the loss of her brother, when I arrived she said, "Nikki! Please, what can I offer you to drink..."

Thankful

Last week I spent like an hour writing a post and just as I was about to publish it the NEPA went and lost the Internet connection and everything I wrote. When there's no NEPA we put on the generator, but I was so frustrated by the whole event I turned off the computer and went upstairs. I tell you all this because NEPA is currently powering the system and I'm reminded of the upset that occurred the last time, hoping it doesn't happen again.
Not too long ago I learned there are school fees primary and secondary education (the equivalent of K-12). On top of the school fees, parents must buy their children's books, and on top of that school uniforms. It's no wonder there are so many adults and children who are not educated. Blessing went as far as primary school, currently studying to pass her secondary school exam.
I was talking with a doctor last week-he said the most all of the books in their library are from the 1940's. I sort of choked and laughed at the same time, it's seemed so absurd, I couldn't believe it.
Blessing's brother died this weekend in a car accident in Lagos (big city that used to be the capital near the coast) His burial will be in the village, about 8 hours drive from here. What do you say to someone who has just lost part of their, and so unexpectedly? There aren't enough words...
Last week I watched a doctor stitched up a hole the size of a silver dollar in the side of a guy's knee due to a bike accident. For the time I've been here, I think I've only seen one or two guys wearing a helmets. The week before that one of the our staffs brother was killed instantly in a bike crash just down the road. The majority of people can't afford a car. Bike transport is, for most part, their only means of getting around-to work, the market, the hospital, wherever...

Latest & Greatest

It's strange that tomorrow is Thanksgiving, it sure doesn't feel like it. Before a couple weeks ago I had all but written it off until a missionary couple mentioned they have a big get-together at their house. I'm totally stoked.
In other news, for the first part of the week I was in the GOPD-General Out Patient D...what does the D stand for? Department? Doctor? I don't know, probably one of those. Then today I was in the lab, fascinating stuff. Tomorrow I'm in the pharmacy; I've been there before, mostly counting and packaging pills.
Don't be fooled by this brief update; there's a lot going on in my head and as time goes on it's proving more and more difficult to put it all to page. I'm observing a lot, thinking a lot and learning even more. I guess you could say I'm letting it all simmer for now.

Randomness

Just a few things to think about if you're trying to get a visual of what it's like here: Gone are the days of pop cans or plastic pop bottles; here it's all glass. Not only that, but all the bottles are recycled and reused again and again and again. Don't be fooled, when I say 'recycled' I mean they'll take the bottle and fill it up again (I pray there's a super sterile cleaning procedure). Yams are a staple. Here again, they're not the kind of yams you're probably thinking of. These yams are white and look like massive tree roots. They make yam everything: pounded yam, roasted yam, fried yam, yam porridge, yam stew (actually, I made that one up), yam, yam, yam. English is the official language, however I have to tell you I'm in the process of learning pigeon English-what a lot of people use. It's so strange hearing fragments of English run together. "How now?" that's "How are you?". I've also been picking up a little bit of Hausa, the other predominate language spoken here. Here's something that's totally crazy: they don't have street lights or stop lights. Think about down town Denver without any lights in the evening, or better yet, NYC pitch black. Of course they're used to it, but me, not so much. I found out last night the motorbikes have a curfew; they all have to be off the road by 8:00 pm or they're fined. It's like driving in a ghost town when they're not around. It takes me about an hour to wash what would be considered a small size load in a washing machine. I've concluded recently that they have hard water here-that make it all the more interesting getting all the soap out. Tea is the drink of choice in the mornings, the closest I've gotten to a cup off coffee has been from a can of instant-just add hot water! Plateau State (where I am) is the most evangelized state in all of Nigeria. I'm not even exaggerating when I say there's a church on every corner, sometimes more. Something else I found interesting: by and large you're either a Christian or a Muslim. The only exception I've been told would be for people who live in tribal regions, and then there they would practice what ever is specific to that tribe. It's not uncommon (I'm finding out) to see a grown man relieving him self on a nearby wall, or ditch or whatever really. I'll just be walking along, and whoa, sorry sir, didn't mean to interrupt...

My Heart Hurts

I don't remember how much I've told you about Blessing; she's one of two very special friends here. Blessing is quite possibly one of the most genuinely joyful people I've ever met. She's never down, every time I see her she's smiling and laughing. She has a great laugh, really contagious. From day one she was so welcoming, always greets you with a hug. Her name really suits her.
Blessing's mom left her when she was little (not sure what age exactly) to live with her step-mom and her grandmother. She said they brought her up in anger, hatred and fear. I'm reading between the lines here, but I think that means they treated her really poorly, possibly abusive? She didn't know of love (those are her words). She was forced to marry at 15 to a man she didn't know. After that she had children, two boys, and a year before her husband died she found out he was positive. After he died her husbands family kept her boys and kicked her out of the house. With no money and no home, she came to Faith Alive, lived in transitional teen housing, learned to sew, and started ARV treatment. She said she just wanted to have peace with her husbands family, she didn't want to fight with them. She prayed that God would help her take back her children without causing conflict. Today Blessing looked different; she looked quite somber and "down". With tears in her eyes she began to retell the story above, really emphasizing that she never knew love in her childhood or in her marriage. She said the first love she ever knew was from God. She kept saying, I know He loves me, I know He'll always be there. She continued; "I don't like to think about these things, I don't want to think about past. It hurts me. I just want my boys to have better life. I want them to go to school, do what I couldn't" On her current salary she's not able to afford for her boys to go to secondary school, at least that's how I understood it. She said she makes about 1.000 Naira a week, sometime less, sometimes more. That's about $10. What she would like to do is go to school herself so that she can get a higher paying job to provide for her kids. Right now she has her own sewing shop where she teaches other HIV positive women to sew. She has to pay her shop rent, house rent, 35,000 Naira and 30,000 Naira respectively (they pay lump sums for the year) food, school fees and books for her boys. She hasn't put credit in her her phone for two weeks because she hasn't had the money.
Here's the real kicker-when I went home I calculated how her rent fees translate into dollars: shop rent-$290/year, house rent-$250/year. And for her to go to school? About $500 for three years. I added up just what it would cost for her to go to school and pay her rent for three years time-$1,250. That's $416 a year. That's $34 a month. That's a little more than a dollar a day. Granted there would be more expense involved, there's more to life than just rent and school fees. Nonetheless, perspective. As I said before, my heart hurts.

Malaria Update

For those you who don't already know, I'm fine. I started taking meds last week, and a day or so later I was feeling a thousand times better. With modern medicine it's not like it's a death sentence. People here literally get it it four and five times a year. Most people are down for a week or so, mostly due to the side effects of the drugs, but after that it's back to life as usual.

Mrh

I was lying on my bed tonight, waiting for dinner, thinking I should post something on my blog. I have a problem referring to this as "my blog", I don't know why, it just sounds weird. In fact, I laugh every time I say it. So, last weekend I went to a wedding. Technically it was two weddings, one was traditional one was the church wedding or the "white wedding" as they call it. The traditional wedding was supposed to start at 4:00, it didn't begin until oh, I don't know, 6:00? We were just hanging out outside, waiting, for something. At some point an MC type character started making announcements about money people were giving the couple; there was a runner, who would go to the seats of the guests, take the money (and their name) run it over to the MC and then the he would report the amount and the name of the donners. That lasted for a good hour, hour and half. Then we were served dinner, in our seats, still waiting for something to happen; at least that's what was going through my mind having never done this before. Somewhere along the line the groom came out, dressed in traditional Nigerian wear, and was seated facing the brides family. There was a presentation of the dowry, and then negotiation about the dowry, and then argument over the dowry. Someone told me that the brides family said that it wasn't enough, so they had to come up with more money on the spot. The dowry must be accepted by the brides family before she's allowed to come out. When the bride came out she was surrounded by her "bridesmaids" I don't quite know what to call them. They were singing and dancing around her walking her over to the groom. She sat on the groom's lap and then it was official, I think. Yeah, still trying to figure it out, it wasn't the most orderly thing I've ever been to, so it was a little difficult to figure out what exactly was going on when. Anyways, that was that. Then the next day was the church wedding, complete with bridesmaids, groomsmen, white gown, the whole nine yards. The service lasted somewhere between 2-3 hours. Then, the reception, oh my lord the reception. That didn't kick off until 2? Yeah, had to be about that time because my stomach had eaten itself by then, I remember it clearly. Something interesting about weddings here. they're more of a come one, come all sort of a thing. People invite their friends, and their friends friends and their friends family's friends and so on. It would never fly in the US, that's for sure.

Mosquitoes

Do they have a productive propose? I was thinking, maybe they're some integral part of the bug world. Maybe a very important insect would die if they didn't have mosquitoes to feast on. The better part of my conscious tells me they're just annoying and the reason I have Malaria. It started yesterday with extreme muscle aches. I was feeling really weak and went to bed fairly early. During the night I had the chills and later on woke up in a pool of sweat. By the time morning came around I hardly had enough energy to make it to the bathroom and back. I slept most of the morning and then later on a doctor from Faith Alive paid me visit. After describing my symptoms he said, "Have you had Malaria before?". Within a couple hours my faithful friend Krysty showed up with medication. From what I'm told (and what I'm feeling) Malaria is a lot like the flu-headaches, muscle weakness, joint pain, fever, chills, etc. Not the worst thing in the world, but certainly not favorable.

Oops

It's actually called "Project Peanut Butter" not, Peanut Butter Project. Sometimes I suffer from dyslexia.

Peanut Butter

Nigeria has the worlds highest number of malnourished children, about 6 million, according to UNICEF. There is something called the "Peanut Butter Project" started by Dr. Manary in Malawi, whereby malnourished children are given a peanut butter based supplement fortified with vitamins and minerals over a period of eight weeks. Eighty percent of the children eating a full diet of the peanut butter supplement meet their weight for height goal. To date, nothing like this has been done in Nigeria. With the help of some independent US sponsors, Faith Alive hopes to mirror the Peanut Butter Project to treat malnourished children here. Right now, Krysty and I are working on a proposal to do a trail with this product on children who are seen in various local hospitals. Faith Alive palns to producee the peanut butter supplement in their newly built Nutrition Unit located in the Faith Alive social services area. The peanut butter would be given to malnourished children coming to the clinic at no cost, as all services at Faith Alive are offered free of charge. Right now, I think they're waiting on a large sum of money needed to purchase the equipment necessary for producing the peanut butter mixture. Once that comes it should be off and running. Exciting stuff...

Rain and Raving

There's nothing like it really. That sweet smell. For about 5 minutes I was in a Colorado rain storm. It's funny how a smell can take you back like that. It was euphoric really. And then man with a megaphone started his weekly ritual. I don't think I've talked about this phenomenon. Anyone with a megaphone can go wherever they want and say anything they want until whatever time they want. Lucky for me there's one of these masterpieces attached to the church across the street from my flat. They "sing" mostly, which sounds like two tone deaf men trying to harmonize, whilst yelling. It's deafening. It's like the speaker is in my room, I'm not even kidding. My iPod can't even drown it out on full volume. Noise violation anyone? Other times they preach. It's like being center stage with a televangelist, substituted with Nigerian accent. There are also megaphones on wheels. Usually accompanied by a wheel barrel; one man driving, one man selling X product. My favorite was a guy camped in the middle of the market mit megaphone strapped to the top of his car. Hunched in the driver seat, feet hanging over the door going on and on about some supplement he was selling. Like nothing you've ever seen, I'm telling you.

Cops and Robbers

Last week I went to visit a pastor who had been shot outside his home. He had just come home from work when a bunch of thieves jumped him, shot him and forced him to open the door to his home. They took what you might expect, money, electronics, cell phones, etc. He was shot in the ankle, so we were bringing him crutches. That same day Blessing said in passing she lost someones e-mail address when she was robbed, as if it happens every day. They held a gun to her face and took her money and phone. The next day when I was working in the pharmacy, out of mere curiosity, I asked my friend Krysty if she'd ever been robbed-it happened to her twice. Granted robberies happen all over the world. I've just never known anyone who's personally encountered not only their thief but their firearm as well.
After days of passing pockets of trash along the road I asked if there happens to be a trash service in the area. I was told there is a government service that is supposed to come around once a week. But, because it's government and they get paid no matter what, they come around when they feel like it. Krysty was saying it's been 4 weeks since they last came. Needless to say the aromas are...fragrant. There are different waves, they're a sour milk smell, rotting sea food, feces (probably from the goats and chickens that roam the streets), your basic sewer smell, the gassy exhaust smell, burning trash smell and then the several smells that just don't have a name because there just aren't enough words to explain.
Another interesting phenomenon: motorbikes. They're EVERYWHERE. Like bees. Buzzing up and down, left and right. There's no "that is your lane and this is mine", no no. It's a total free for all. This morning I saw four kids on one bike, including the driver. The first kid was sitting on the handle bars followed by the driver and three kids sandwiched behind him. There was another time I was in the market and I saw a guy who had just purchased lawn chairs. The driver had two of them balancing on the handle bars and the guy was holding the other two over his head, cycle in motion. I fear for every one of their lives. I really do.
The NEPA is on and I'm paranoid it's going to switch off at any second and I'll lose all that I just typed; that happened the last time I tried to post something and I was so frustrated I just said screw it. I'm not going through the whole process of finding the generator in the dark, re-booting, re-typing, etc. So with that said, over and out.

I Can't Believe It...

The Rockies are in the World Series? Are you serious? I was watching BBC World news of all things when I hear "Colorado Rockies make it into the World Series for the first time in their history" My heart actually skipped a beat.
In other news, I've felt totally disconnected without the Internet. It feels like century since I was last on. There's just been a desktop set up in the guest house where I'm staying, so I think I'll be able to access more regularly. This is good news.
Last week I had my hair braided, with extensions. I feel like such an impostor. If you saw me right now you just might laugh. Fortunately for me, the Nigerians think it's fabulous. After sitting in a rusted tin chair for five hours, Blessing took me to a Salon to have the ends curled under. Now, I need to preface this with, most Nigerian women have their infants/toddlers with them wherever they go. At the clinic, at work, support group, all the time. With that said, it wasn't a surprise to see a toddler hangin out in the salon when we arrived. The interesting part came about when he needed to go to the bathroom. It went something like this: boy signals to mom he needs to relive himself. Mom pulls off his pants. Mom then hurls little boy by one arm into the backyard of the salon, by which little boy squats on the pavement and drops a load. It gets better. Older sister (I'm guessing) then goes out and washes away the little droppings with a bucket of water. Actually it took several, but nonetheless. It was incredible. I had a front row seat for the whole thing. Now back to the hair. When Blessing said I was to have my ends curled under, I honestly didn't think it through. What I mean by that is this-to curl ones hair with a your average curling iron would require electricity, of which is hardly ever on. So naturally the next best thing would be to roast a literal curing iron over an open fire to get the job done. I swear I'd see these things in a museum somewhere. It was a total trip. Women have told me my weave is supposed to last about two weeks. I'm thinkin, not so much. My Oyubo hair isn't holding up the way I'd hoped. I think it's coming out tonight.
Another bit of news, for the rest of the month I'll be working on a different project than the one previously mentioned. The guy who's currently in charge of the computer network is going to another organization. Apparently this happens quite a bit; Dr. Chirs said next to a government job, Faith Alive is the highest paying in Nigeria. But, what ends up happening is other international NGO's in Nigeria recruit talent from Faith Alive for a much higer salary. So anyways, this guy is leaving at the end of the month. Well, before he goes they want to transfer all their data to a new software program. But in order to do that they have to fix duplicate pharmacy records from the old one (the new program won't accept two records from the same day). That's where I come in. I go through line after line of duplicated records and combine them into one. There are over 1,500 duplicates (I counted). Twenty nine pages worth. I've been going at it for three days now, and I'm on page 9. Good times... In all seriousness though, it feels great to be productive. Be it ever so tedious.

One More Thing...

Real quickly, I'll be working on two projects over the next several months. The first is a project sponsored by Heart to Heart. They are providing some 7,000 doses of Tibozole, a medication used to treat oral thrush (common in HIV patients, they develop sores in their mouth and esophagus that are so painful they can't swallow food). There are 63 governmental HIV/AIDS sites in Nigeria; this project goal is to make contact with and distribute the Tibozole to 50 of them in the next month. Part of the agreement with Heart to Heart is that the drug will be free to all recipients and that we track it's distribution at all the sites via monthly reporting. I'll be traveling around with Ayo to the different sites introducing the drug and training them on how to do monthly reporting. Second project is with Tear Fund, a group based out of the UK. Details a bit more foggy, but basically the goal of that project is to start up an HIV/AIDS clinic in an area that has no access to testing, drug therapy, counseling services, ad subsequently little to no awareness about HIV, modes of transmission, risks of mother to child transmission, etc. There's a lot more to that one, but I'm fading.

Monday, Monday

Funny thing happened today...I was meeting with Ayo about some projects I'll be helping with (more to come on that later) when this woman walked into the room and asked me for my keys. Now, I know that I'd met her, but couldn't quite place who she was or why she might be asking for my keys. So I said, for...what? To which she quickly responded that she needed to clean and fill up my water (the big black barrel in the corner of my bathroom that I use for washing my face, bathing, flushing the toilet, washing my clothes, everything) That made sense, so I handed her my keys. It wasn't more that a minute after she left that I began thinking, I just gave away my keys! Why didn't I giver her my social security card and my passport while I was at it? I did that actually...when I first arrived. I'd been traving for 24+ hours and landed in Abuja at 4:30 in the morning. As I was standing in the ever long immagration line, random Joe Nigerian waves me to the front of the line to join the only other two white women in the place (of which I quickly discovered were also goinig to Faith Alive). He mumbled something in English or Housa, I'm not really sure, it was all the same to me at that point, then asked me to give him my passport and meet him at the front after collecting my bags. So, I handed him my passport. As I started walking toward the baggage claim, it caught up with me, I just gave him my passport...I thought, yep, that's it. I'm never leaving Nigeria. I got my bags and all the while frantically surching for Joe, who was no where to be found. As I started to gravitiate toward the herd of people at the exit, Joe, my Nigerian in shining armor showed up with my passport! I could have cried. To make another long story short, I got my keys back and all was well.

Days Seem Like Weeks

I'm not trying to beat a dead horse here, but seriously...so much happens in a day. Let's see, went to the orphanage today. Couple things: Number one, there were not as many orphans as I thought there would be. We walked in to find three toddlers and one infant. There were five in all. Only one kid who was at school while we were there. He's 10 and has some pretty severe disabilities. From what I understood, the kids that were there were left on the street. People don't deliver their unwanted children directly to the orphanage. 

Next point, the toddlers weren't wearing diapers or pants or anything but a t-shirt. Just a bunch of little bare butts. So when they need to go, you know, they just go on the floor and crawl in the puddle or pile of whatever it turns out to be. The toddlers were on the floor when we walked in, I would say they were somewhere around 6months to a year? Both of them were gnawing on limes. When I say gnaw, I mean they were literally eating the rinds of whole limes. I took pictures. Still letting it sink in. 

When we first arrived I met a woman by the name of Blessing. Tonight she told us how she came to know about Faith Alive. She was married when she was 14 through an arranged marriage. She had three children with her husband before he died of AIDS. After he died, his family believed she was to blame for his death and no longer welcomed them in their home. Her pastor told her about Dr. Chris and Faith Alive and she came down to Jos without her children. She started on the ARV drugs, and went throughout the sewing school. At some point she went back to her village and took her children. The husbands family threatened to come after her and take her to court, but never did. Millions of stories like this I'm sure...

Day ?

So, I don't know what day it is, Wednesday maybe? Whatever it is I know it hasn't been a week, which is weird because it feels like a month. I've seen/heard a lot of really tough stuff. Still processing...it's so extreme it's hard to internalize. Before now AIDS in Africa has been reports, stories, stats, etc. I knew it was real, but now...it's real. I went on HBC (Home Bound Care) visits today; these are people who are in outlying villages who are too sick to come in to the clinic. We visited two women; there is no way for me to put into words the way they looked, and I don't think I want to. One of the women, couldn't get out of her bed and was losing her hearing so we had a hard time talking with her. She had three children, 13, 6 and 1 years old. The thirteen year old was caring for the other two. The mother believes the daughter infected her with HIV and still holds it against her. If Faith Alive hadn't intervened when they did, they probably would have killed her. I guess this is one of many 'tribal' type beliefs about how HIV is contracted. Later in the afternoon we traveled about an hour and a half away to a site where Faith Alive will be building a hospital sponsored by Tear Fund (UK organization). P.S I'm supposedly assisting with this project, details not clear. It was a totally different atmosphere from Jos, we're talking grass huts and banana trees. Ayo told us that currently there are no social programs anywhere in the area-no hospital/clinic, no school for the kids, nothin. The kids are amazing, in that village, in Jos, everywhere we go. Whenever we walk by they wave and yell, "Ouyba! Ouyba!" (white person). It's funny...they're so excited to see you.

Day One

You'll all be happy to know, I made it to Jos safe and sound. I'm super tired, jet lagged and so totally stoked to be here. The computer is running off a generator at the moment; the electricity comes and goes at random. That means unless I bathe during the day it's a dark sponge bath for me. It also means I have to manually flush the toilet. It goes a little something like this: you do your business, then you fill up a bowl of water and pour it down the toilet bowl and there you have it. Interesting times here so far.

Two Weeks and Counting...

As of yesterday, I moved out of my apartment and moved into my car, my temporary storage place. Over the next couple of week's I'll be staying with friends until I depart on the 28th. Not long now...