First Night In Lesotho-Sept 2010

I said a prayer when I submitted my blogs and video for this “Born HIV Free” contest. I prayed thanks, because I had already felt awakened to the true desires of my heart. I believe my purpose in life is to make a positive impact on people every day in a special way. There is one thing I am certain of and that is that I have a job to do in this world and that’s to utilize my talents for greater causes. Right now, I want to give myself over and help my environment thrive, to do the work to cultivate beauty and peace globally.

So I continued to pray throughout the process. I also prayed that God would send whoever needed this trip to South Africa. I prayed because I knew I needed to experience this journey firsthand and I needed to be able to witness this for myself as I continue to reach out globally to raise awareness in preventing HIV transmission from mother to newborn child. Well, here I am along with 6 other beautiful souls from all over the world: Marcela-our fearless leader from Switzerland, Melissa from France, Kathryn from Canada, Linus from Germany, Katherine from Germany and Bruno from Spain. There is a reason 7 people from all over the world came together and are sharing our experiences with all of you and we are grateful for the opportunity.

I am here on my first night in Lesotho, South Africa. This is surreal. Who would have thought that I would be looking out my window down on South African soil? I can’t help but watch my fear and uncertainty carefully. I feel them melting away. A great friend recently told me it was just the fear of the unknown and stepping outside of my comfort zone. He was most definitely right. Everyone around me is so encouraging. As I prayed for understanding and healing I can with absolute certainty say I already feel work being done on my soul.

And so tomorrow it begins. My journey into the small villages, into the clinics and into the homes of women willing to share their everyday reality. These indigenous people are poverished, diseased and lacking medicine to maintain their treatments. Why? In the United States, it is easy to be lukewarm, to be complacent. We aren’t scraping for food and shelter, we generally and comparatively have more access to healthcare and education; it’s difficult to imagine a life outside of comfort. Our babies are not born 400,000 per year infected like they are here. Those statistics are staggering. Why is it so difficult to get ARV treatment which costs $1.00 per day to these children? Why are so many children given away to orphanages when their families are a few miles away? Why are so many babies infected when medicine and prevention are available? How can we preserve and enrich our wonderfully fortunate lives and beckon world to have the same? I have so many questions on my heart I need to ask these women and doctors.

I was asked to blog throughout the journey and share back via social networks. The only way for us to truly understand where the rest of the world stands is through observing and the subsequent transference of those experiences to those who have ears to hear. This is not just another blog, it’s a REAL WORLD reality show. I’d like to call it “HouseWives/Mothers of South Africa” so to speak but without the glamour, glitz or petty drama. You see, here you won’t see women wondering what type of clothes to wear to the party, here they are concerned with what outfit to bury their young child in. They are not concerned with plastic surgery. Here, they are concerned with natural childbirth which could infect a newborn child. And they are not concerned with buying breast implants. You see here, breast milk is a common factor in the transmission of HIV to newborns.

There is a quote I love and wanted to close out my blog with: "There is no passion to be found playing small in settling for a life that is less than the one you are capable of living." - Nelson Mandela

So come with me inside my journey of South Africa......

I've Been Infected...Day 2 in Lesotho-Sept 2010

Nothing could have prepared me for my journey today into Maseru inside Berea Government Hospital. The sole purpose of the visit is to witness the work Global Fund provides in the hospitals and clinics and to send some time with the mothers and children hearing their stories……

As I approached the hospital grounds, many people were outside, laying on the grounds, and ill. They did manage to smile, and many wanted to be photographed by myself and my counterparts.

The first woman interviewed “Makamohelo” was with her husband. The couple has 2 children, had dated for many years and she stated he usually used condoms. She was feeling ill and decided to get tested. Her results came back positive for HIV, and her husbands are negative. She then started crying. Her mother had died of AIDS and she stated her husband has always been very supportive of her. She has chosen not to tell her family or friends, because she does not want her children "shun within the community."

Tears once again began streaming down her face as she mentioned other medical problems:

She has problems with her vision and needs glasses but cannot afford to buy them

She suffers from a mental illness often triggered by severe mood swings

She is also HIV positive

“Sometimes having a spiritual belief helps more than medication. I lift my hands and ray that god will just see me through this.”-Makamohelo

The next interview was of a single mother and child.

This mother and 9 month old little girl arrived at the clinic at 8AM. This mother and her baby come once a week to receive treatment and counseling. After the interview, we drove her home from the clinic. We did not realize she had walked from her home (approx 8 miles), in low heels and her daughter swaddled around her in a knapsack. As I stared at her shoes, her heels looked worn and her ankles swollen. She may have only owned 2 pairs of shoes and those seemed to be everyday wear. At first glance, she looks like she is carrying the weight of the world on her shoulders but you would never know it from her unwavering spirit.

Her home was situated in a rural part of Maseru and to get to it, there was a steep downhill stretch we walked in order to view her home and photograph her. The rocks were very jagged along the way and one misstep would cause severe injury. The approximate size of her home was about 200-250 sq feet. I could not believe how small it was and kept looking for more, an attachment, a basement, something, but that was it. I remember her smiling the entire time, never complaining through her interview or about having to walk everywhere. Her smile was in a way “infectious.” She stated she goes to treatment once a week at the hospital rain or shine. It usually takes her about an hour each way holding the baby the entire way. She wants to stay healthy and ensure her baby stays healthy so she does what a mother needs to do for her child.


As we made our last visit of the day, we stopped at a small secluded house. Inside was a grandmother of 5 orphaned children whose parents all died from HIV. Her name was Cecilia Mda. Her face was weary and her bones seamlessly tired. She was frail, and looked to be in her mid 70’s. She told us her story of how she struggles to provide for her grandchildren. Sure I’ve read similar stories and even watched some videos, but nothing hits your heart like a healthy helping of reality staring you straight in the eyes. She then invited us to view her home and photograph her and the family. This grandmother with 5 children along with a daughter and another child were all living in a small home no larger than the average size garage. There were no toys present, no games, no candy wrappers and the children were not playing outside like most kids do. Instead, there was a simplistic presence of curiosity among their faces. They enjoyed being photographed and found us rather intriguing.

I will never forget her face for as long as I live. She often smiled at me and all I could see in her eyes was “hope”. Hope to decrease her struggle, hope to continue to provide for her grandchildren and hope that her grandchildren would one day have a better future.

When I think of her “infectious spirit”, her unwavering soul shining through her smile and those eyes, “hope” will never be lost.

So when I look back on my day and these 3 beautiful women, one word comes to mind: “phenomenal”. This word has a deeper meaning than anything any of us could ever fathom.

The next time any of us complain about walking a distance, think of the mother and child who have HIV and walk in record temperatures sometimes more than 8 miles at a time for treatment. The next time we are “tired” because our kids are overactive, think of the grandmother who now mothers 5 young orphans all of which have HIV on little to nothing every day. And the next time we complain about working, think of the mother who can’t work, because she cannot afford glasses, has a medical condition, has no one to turn to in her family and oh yes is HIV positive.

This life changing trip has humbled me in a way I never thought possible. And yes…. I am “infected” in every since of the word…….

Delivering The Promise- Day 3 in Lesotho-Sept 2010

Naturally, yesterday’s events were still heavy on my heart. As I walked to the board the bus for our 2 hour trip to Baylor Hospital and ButhaButhe to meet with hospital personnel, I could not help but reminisce on the previous day’s events. So many families with HIV and so many young children all under the age of one who still have a possibility of contracting HIV, or losing both parents and becoming just another orphan in the system. Only this was “real.” Not like the videos I’ve seen on YouTube, or the blogs to save lives that get shared on social networks. No-these were people I knew, spent hours with, photographed and played with their children. And there was still the possibility of community funding and support being cut to the Global Fund when Supporters meet at the summit meeting on Oct 5th in New York.

I am not sure when it hit me, maybe it was the walk up to the hospital doors as I saw elderly people laying on the ground covered in blankets and sleeping. Maybe it was the mothers I saw walking for miles to the hospital with their babies swaddled on their backs. Maybe it was the 60 plus people laying outside of the hospital waiting for care. Or maybe it was possibly as I entered through the double doors into the hospital ward and saw an estimated 50-60 mothers and young babies (some HIV positive and some not), sitting in a room and waiting to be seen. Whatever it was, I began to feel tears filling my eyes. I wanted to do more, to be able to help, to reach out in a way that others would become involved. In my eyes, it is unimaginable so many people are ill, or infected and may lose community support while so many of us go on with our lives unaffected.

Somehow, I gathered myself together and I interviewed several mothers today, many with similar stories as the families prior. These mothers- some single, some married, some who have not yet revealed to their families their HIV status, and some whose spouses are in denial and refuse to get tested for HIV. Each of these women had 1 thing in common. Beautiful children counting on them to be there for their first day of school, be there for the teenage years when you need parents to keep you in line, be there for the heartbreaks, graduation and be there when they get married and have their own children.

There was no question- I had to do my part in helping keep treatment available and helping change the "out of sight, of of mind" stigma so often associated with people with diseases in other countries.

 As we drove home, there was a golden sunset in the sky with a small parting. It was in a sense, a personal message to all of us on our journey back that evening. For me, it was God’s way of saying, help will come, our efforts are making a change and impacting lives, these brothers, sisters, grandmothers and children of Lesotho, will not continue to suffer.

“God did not promise days without pain, laughter without sorrow, sun without rain. But he did promise strength for the day, comfort for the tears, and light for the way.

Not Easily Broken-Reflections of my Lesotho Journey-Sept 2010

As I sit here in front of my computer back in California, I can't help but reflect on my experience in Lesotho. I initially began the journey unsure. Unsure of myself, unsure of what I would encounter and even unsure if I deserved such an incredible opportunity. I certainly did not want to be a disappointment to so many including" Born HIV Free" and "Global Fund" that were expecting us to raise awareness, share my experiences through interviews, blogging and photography. I was with experienced writers, photographers and even a doctor. What was I doing here? I'm not a professional writer, and my photography is nothing to boast about. But, I decided this was an important opportunity and if I spoke from my heart, and captured photos that moved me, hopefully, that would be enough for those reading and following the journey.

At times, it seemed overwhelming as I interviewed HIV positive mothers knowing that if medical treatment does not continue, they will be taken from their families and beautiful children in just a matter of time. By day 3, I experienced and overall sadness. Sadness because I knew my times there was coming to an end, sadness that I could not do more, and sadness because although I know devastation and illness is prevalent in the world, there is an overwhelming sense of helplessness when a name is associated with a face. When you spend time getting to know these people, laughing, talking, hugging and just bringing them such a pure sense of hope even for a few short hours.

I thought about the 17 year old girl who was 9 months pregnant with HIV and only told her mother. Not even the father or sister know. I thought about how so many of the mothers breastfeed and are on ARV until their children reach 6 months. However, once a child goes to solid food, if the proper nutrition is not established (others in the household eat the food), more than half of the children die before the age of 2. I also thought of the many children in the orphanage we visited who were all blind. They lost their vision somewhere along the way and the families could not take care of them so dropped them at the orphanage. Many times, many children have no family to visit or come and pick them up for the holidays, so the 4 teachers who work at the center take many of the children to their home on the holidays.

I thought about the fathers and how there is such a stigma surrounding HIV. I thought about how alone so many of the mothers felt because their spouses either blamed them, left them, or were in denial and refused to go for testing. Many of these women endure the process alone and choose not involve family or friends so they are not stigmatized within the society. As I sat talking to many of them, they often broke down into tears. I was an outlet--someone they could release to, cry to, someone who would listen and not judge and someone who seemingly brought hope to their lives.

There is so much going through my head right now and so many emotions. It is at this moment I realize there was one element I was missing the entire week. How could I have gone to Lesotho and missed it when it is so very prevalent in our daily lives? The entire time I was dealing with sick children, sick mothers, blind students, understaffed workers and medical doctors, not once, not one single person ever "complained" to me about their situation. Nothing. Often they spoke of hope, felt encouraged and displayed acceptance of their situation. We so easily complain over the smallest discomfort, and here these people are with real concerns but smiling, living their lives through spirituality and not shackled to their own prison mindset of the "why me" syndrome.

Sometimes, when God puts something on your heart, you are to do nothing more than simply stand up and be heard. You have to stand up and speak for those with no means, and no voice. At times, people will be against you, challenge you, question or just plain walk away from you because they don't understand. When this happens, stand up in the face of adversity for a greater cause and for the good of others. Remember those words that you are "not easily broken." Remember the blogs, the images, the video and the links that I have shared with you. Remember those faces full of smiles and some with tears ALL WITH HOPE and all willing to pick themselves up and move forward.

"When things get tough and you feel like giving up, remember why you held on so long in the first place."

The people of Lesotho certainly live by this each and every day.

It is my greatest hope that you have enjoyed the journey to Lesotho and I was able to capture as much of the experience in a way to shine light on this concern. And it is my true belief that each of you will take this and do more than delete the blog or forget about it in a few days. This is a reality for so many everyday and if you reach just 1 person per day--you are making a positive difference for others.

I have attached a video I made of photos I took of my journey to Lesotho.  I met, interviewed and photographed all these people- 90% of which have HIV.  I will never forget their faces and as long as I live, I will continue to work to make an impact every single day of my life.

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https://ny.aidswalk.net/MoniqueGriffin

With love always,
Monique