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 but 5 minutes and 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, my eyes filled with tears. 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.
Somehow, 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 Africa 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.
I hold on to the promise that these people, these faces and these families of South Africa will never be forgotten. I hold on to the promise that funding will continue to support these communities that are in need. And I hold on to the promise that you reading this blog, have been moved the way I have been and want to help create change……
By Keeper Monique Griffin
The helplessness feeling came to me when I read this blog. So many suffering in the world, and not enough helping hands.
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