tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-63555541045897864022024-03-12T16:02:28.819-07:00American Foundation for Children with AIDSAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10013874072055158696noreply@blogger.comBlogger45125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6355554104589786402.post-52178394714437419672012-12-03T06:27:00.002-08:002012-12-03T06:27:59.722-08:00
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="color: #1f497d; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Hi, all! We are now able to write our blog entries directly on our brand new website! Please subscribe to the blog rss feed
on the new website at: </span><a href="http://afcaids.org/get-involved/blog"><span style="color: blue; font-family: Calibri;">http://afcaids.org/get-involved/blog</span></a><span style="font-family: Calibri;">
or </span><a href="http://blog.afcaids.org/"><span style="color: blue; font-family: Calibri;">http://blog.afcaids.org</span></a><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> as all
future blog posts will appear there.</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="color: #1f497d; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"></span></span> </div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="color: #1f497d; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Thanks for reading about our work, travels, children, and other updates!</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="color: #1f497d; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">tanya</span></span></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10013874072055158696noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6355554104589786402.post-77488656807317344832012-10-29T12:19:00.001-07:002012-10-29T12:19:54.715-07:00What Is Happening While Sandy Visits Us?<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Outside, a storm is raging, wind is whipping things around as though they don't weigh anything at all, and the trees, bending under the pounding, are doing their best to stay upright. I love the sound of the wind and the rain, but know that we are not anywhere close to the center of this storm yet. As we wait, one of my children is napping and the other is playing a game with my husband. I am doing as much as I can while we still have electricity. As I work through contracts, inventory sheets, reports to donors, and other items which have been sitting by my computer for way too long, I realize that this a wonderful time to focus on the blessings we have been given as a family and as an organization. </div>
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Not only do I have warm home in which to play and wait out a storm, we also have electricity, water and food to hold us through a long spell, if needed. We have a gas stove, so I can cook anytime we are hungry. We have family with whom to hang out. We have blankets on beds and we have a basement to sleep in should we feel a tree will crash through the roof. We are blessed. So very, very blessed. </div>
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While the kids with whom I work are lacking many (MANY!) of the things I tend to take for granted, I do have good news to report on their behalf. Below is a list of what has been keeping us busy these past days so that they, too, can be comfortable and so that they will always know that someone does care:</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtNmHMdsAIc6uJBgJLb6XDiHN1ZPqntDSoRtnBoTCSiyPPZHMFRp_mxrTNbnPPsBLH0kHWKj-chdAlo3fcM5uI-SwcCFR3_ppxFPP5lRNgXkiSxctJhyRSrMhgMTVNTalqbv-T4ZlTZTo/s1600/children+with+vaccinated+goats.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtNmHMdsAIc6uJBgJLb6XDiHN1ZPqntDSoRtnBoTCSiyPPZHMFRp_mxrTNbnPPsBLH0kHWKj-chdAlo3fcM5uI-SwcCFR3_ppxFPP5lRNgXkiSxctJhyRSrMhgMTVNTalqbv-T4ZlTZTo/s320/children+with+vaccinated+goats.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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A container of medical supplies, birthing beds, solar panels, water filters and all sorts of magical items is on the Congo River on its way to Tandala Hospital and to 16 clinics in the Ubangi of the Democratic Republic of Congo</div>
</li>
<li>We packed a 40' contaner full of medical and office . It is on its way to Mombasa, Kenya to supply an amazing clinic set in the slums of Mombasa.</li>
<li>A container of medical supplies (and the most amazing baby bassinette) is about to launch its way to Mpumudde, Uganda thanks to generous friends at Rotary METS in Savannah, GA</li>
<li>A greenhouse has been erected in Kenya, to grow veggies for HIV+ children who need good food in order to feel better</li>
<li>35 goat kids were born during the past two months in Zimbabwe, all part of our Livelihoods Program. They've been vaccinated and are doing well.</li>
<li>Trainings in conservation farming continue throughout Zimbabwe to teach children how to grow personal gardens using the manure from animals donated to them. </li>
<li>We received the great news that our container to Kilembe Mines, Uganda arrived and that everything in it has been a blessing to the patients and doctors at that hospital</li>
<li>We received a grant to provide porridge to children who are desperately lacking any food. </li>
<li>A volunteer created some ads we need for an online campaign and Share Cause Marketing is going to make it flashy for us</li>
<li>I received this note regarding a beneficiary today: "<span style="font-family: Calibri;">A guardian, Grace Moyo (74 years old), says that this project has shown her
and the orphans she looks after that the love of the people who donated the
money for these birds is changing the life of her family."<o:p></o:p></span>
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I say, let the wind blow and howl. It is a beautiful thing to learn to care less about the material things we own than for the people around us. Whether your people to care for are in your backyard, down the street, across the city, or on the other side of the world, do it. Care for them. Love them. Hold on to them, not the the things that will be here one day and gone the next. <br />
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10013874072055158696noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6355554104589786402.post-86810109266016560862012-10-05T15:33:00.001-07:002012-10-05T15:34:17.337-07:00Rain and Sunshine<br />
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">October 5, 2012 - from the desk of the ED -</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhG-2rfQSBSZGCnW8SqQvXjkJ3qljtfGfc5ph0YP_7l2_JkwohAjLpB-m9EBj6oYJtFoGIK3SZalsA9JikqZbUX6DKuhtstH8rwis__mX97Qw1TFI2WRe9yR_0XCWNTenMom4p4CJZ-wdQ/s1600/hut.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhG-2rfQSBSZGCnW8SqQvXjkJ3qljtfGfc5ph0YP_7l2_JkwohAjLpB-m9EBj6oYJtFoGIK3SZalsA9JikqZbUX6DKuhtstH8rwis__mX97Qw1TFI2WRe9yR_0XCWNTenMom4p4CJZ-wdQ/s320/hut.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Yeah, it's dry!</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I sit at my desk, trying to concentrate, although I’d rather
be sleeping.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It is wet, rainy and grey
outside and that, to me, is the best napping weather.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But, I struggle to stay focused and on task
with a cup of mint tea by my side.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
find my mind wandering to our friends in countries where the lack of rain is a
huge problem, killing livestock and gardens.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I pray for them, that they will see rain soon and that the rain will
help blanket their land with green and with vegetables and fruit.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I hear the ping of another email hitting my in-box.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I quit looking out the window and read with
excitement an email regarding the vaccination of twenty five kids born to the
goats we gave out in Zimbabwe this summer.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>It is always exciting to hear of female kids being born because one
knows that the program will survive, that the flocks will continue to grow.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Keeping them healthy is of utmost importance
and the team on the ground is working towards that with the beneficiary
families.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">On days like these, I take all the good news I can.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My email account is acting up and I am not
able to send out emails to specific people (I receive alright...just can't send), which is just wretched.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I have no idea who is receiving my emails and
who isn’t.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>How am I supposed to work
this way?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So, I spend 3 hours between
our domain provider and google apps, trying to figure out things that really
mean nothing to me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I find most
languages fascinating, but not the language of computers.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I don’t know what they are asking me and I don’t
know how to answer.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This is when a good
IT person with lots of time on their hands would be so very useful.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Since one of those doesn’t exist in my
current world, I will have to do the work.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I’d really rather poke my eye out, but I’ll stay on hold some more,
waiting for someone on the other side to give me some answers. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNp0HgSHGixBtAfMXc5TmZwZQfPKf3HGhTxOY_4SPxqhK5X08hMhUlx2a8fejggncbvKu6-hLGD0o-SpxxSMSxszX2CnpKGKMUlWAKwXED30cDTnRycAFw3lfzGhNHvoG7mW0_3LKO60A/s1600/receiving+vet+kit.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNp0HgSHGixBtAfMXc5TmZwZQfPKf3HGhTxOY_4SPxqhK5X08hMhUlx2a8fejggncbvKu6-hLGD0o-SpxxSMSxszX2CnpKGKMUlWAKwXED30cDTnRycAFw3lfzGhNHvoG7mW0_3LKO60A/s320/receiving+vet+kit.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Q giving an ODW vet kit to a village coordinator</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Another ping! This one is from Ron, the teacher/advisor for
Operation Days Work.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This is a fantastic
student-run program which gets students from various schools directly involved
in local projects as well as international ones.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We received a $10,000 grant during the
summer, which allowed us to purchase and distribute chickens and goats and veterinary kits for
orphan families in Zimbabwe.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This new
email is to let me know that the students just voted that AFCA will receive the
additional $5000 they <span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">raised this year!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Oh, what
good news these are!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What will we do
with these funds, you ask?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">We will purchase and distribute a soya/maize blend porridge for 70
families as well as seeds and gardening training for the same families.
Transportation and delivery of the food and seeds is included in this grant. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>How incredibly exciting this is, especially in
light of the lack of rain which has affected many families.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The porridge will provide a stop-gap as gardens
grow.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The gardens are planted using
something called conservation farming, which traps any moisture, even if only
dew, under a thick blanket of mulch.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>This allows for vegetables to grow even through times of little
rain.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></span></div>
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<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">I sip my tea. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgC_Vv0yNeurupVkdVRSw9_-XF_Vkvl89G4664S0S7Dik0NmDkgXqcLFS5125YS0DCaQPP0-o19cnJMwpnsGQpRX2bHvg6YkBwcKMOnXc-Nx2A6J5MVk9FCi5dR3aaiWL9n1LxIeq_yaQ4/s1600/aiden+and+boys.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgC_Vv0yNeurupVkdVRSw9_-XF_Vkvl89G4664S0S7Dik0NmDkgXqcLFS5125YS0DCaQPP0-o19cnJMwpnsGQpRX2bHvg6YkBwcKMOnXc-Nx2A6J5MVk9FCi5dR3aaiWL9n1LxIeq_yaQ4/s320/aiden+and+boys.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My son with beneficiaries in Zimbabwe</td></tr>
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<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">I think of the children who’ll receive the porridge and the
gardening training and seeds.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I find
myself smiling.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I laugh out loud here in
my home office, thrilled for them.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">Suddenly, even though t</span>he rain continues to drum, things
look mighty bright indeed.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10013874072055158696noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6355554104589786402.post-63529829678151777362012-08-11T12:53:00.000-07:002012-08-28T12:07:58.441-07:00Trees and a Party<br />
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August 4, 2012 – Bulawayo, Zimbabwe<o:p></o:p></div>
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I peek through the door which divides customs at the airport
from the waiting area and I spy my friend Lisa who is visiting us for a few
days.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My heart is happy as I know that
Lisa will get to see the work AFCA does first-hand and that she will enjoy her
time here. Like Jodi, she is easy going, ready to do anything and to eat
anything.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It will be a nice stay, I am
sure.<br />
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We have so much to do in the next few days!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
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August 5, 2012 – Matopos, Zimbabwe<o:p></o:p></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsKdaNgerB7VWgXNXNkRMvsCFk4GgvLZ17tX4pOT5MOjRlchueXRB1uJBoLh3Xd2amfb91GHmaHn9th_u0mAh0woChmDcLk9IrloOo53C1vnogLv5I_5Ey77V99PJbaM3JLdT8xeDNLa4/s1600/tree.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsKdaNgerB7VWgXNXNkRMvsCFk4GgvLZ17tX4pOT5MOjRlchueXRB1uJBoLh3Xd2amfb91GHmaHn9th_u0mAh0woChmDcLk9IrloOo53C1vnogLv5I_5Ey77V99PJbaM3JLdT8xeDNLa4/s320/tree.jpg" width="320" /></a>After church, we pack up a picnic lunch and head out to Matopos
National Park in search of some animals and beauty.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Most of the Stambolies are with us, as well
as Lennon and we are out for some adventure!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>The drive is gorgeous and the sky is bluer than blue, expanding from one
horizon to the next.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Breaking up the
horizon are acacia trees -those loved by giraffes - looking valiant in the dry
earth. They struggle for water, but somehow, still have greenish leaves in a landscape
dominated by sand and brown earth.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I have found the trees in Zimbabwe to be
beautiful, full of character and strength. With gnarled limbs and trunks, these
old beauties house birds, big cats and insects, providing life to many.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4WqbX1FiLC8NZB9sPax3v55JLOsPRwPJarn-ttc4pq6xkhv6Branc4_yVSmpylegpT3a3PqwI-Qb1TVZ1G7hwQ4hyphenhyphenpQbCbvnxngNKpdl8sX-Net08Gd6ElgfJiiBj4GHSIy0WqdLKygY/s1600/tree2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4WqbX1FiLC8NZB9sPax3v55JLOsPRwPJarn-ttc4pq6xkhv6Branc4_yVSmpylegpT3a3PqwI-Qb1TVZ1G7hwQ4hyphenhyphenpQbCbvnxngNKpdl8sX-Net08Gd6ElgfJiiBj4GHSIy0WqdLKygY/s320/tree2.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
During tea time, Juju and I walk off to take a potty
break.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Hiding behind a rock, we believe
we’ve found our perfect spot when I hear Juju say “we have a problem, mom” and
I look up to see that we are situated between the rock (behind us) and a troop
of baboons in front of us, on some more rocks.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>We are literally between a rock and a hard place.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I convince J to remain quiet and to get on
with business when suddenly, a fight breaks out between the baboons and we hear
screaming behind us as Eric and the rest of our friends think we’ve been
attacked by baboons.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I hear feet rushing
towards us and all I can think of is “my pants are down!!”. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As we try to get ourselves organized as
quietly as we can so as not to stress out the baboons even more, our friends
worry that we aren’t popping out, telling them that we are ok.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But, we are just fine, my Juju and I.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We laugh together once again.<o:p></o:p><br />
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August 6, 2012 – Sizeze and Mayezane, Zimbabwe<o:p></o:p></div>
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We pile into the truck to do home visits and to make sure
that the animals we’ve given out and beneficiaries are doing well.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Q drives us and there is an air of excitement
as we head out to Mayezane and later, Sizeze.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span><o:p></o:p></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8meYM9iKCDzpHT59jig2jMlxkrTW2zt9Wb-hPIlOuV0dYbGKl9KEySnTw5ebkEid4O3AO5wmMGI0dtkHugW8DRjmFUSpI5zHp0zQxWk65yfqZCK6SUqJwYBcem5vbj86uQaFK1ayZzUg/s1600/juju+and+gogo.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8meYM9iKCDzpHT59jig2jMlxkrTW2zt9Wb-hPIlOuV0dYbGKl9KEySnTw5ebkEid4O3AO5wmMGI0dtkHugW8DRjmFUSpI5zHp0zQxWk65yfqZCK6SUqJwYBcem5vbj86uQaFK1ayZzUg/s320/juju+and+gogo.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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I am always amazed at how Q knows where to turn and which
small path to take.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>To me, each path
looks the same and if dropped here, I’d be lost in 3 minutes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I drive as Q tells me where to go, passing by
trees, huts, fences, goat pens, and dust.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Unending dust. A grandmother comes out to greet us, wobbling on her
aching feet, holding herself up with a cane.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>She creeps over to her goat pen, smiling and laughing as she tells us
that one of her goats has had a female baby.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>These are welcome news, indeed!<o:p></o:p></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglkZ9g3q-BZEkGMl5GJ71XEZ2wHn5x16vd9MpGoNx5IP5An6gyYiIz7wSeIqJY2bwSAi6R6b1VoP3DByG-zeD1gAzTeSpOggGX8ySKJLEr3rvEgeCf1SPYtvQUoQMrgWd3MKmxhTNZKxQ/s1600/boys+and+goats.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglkZ9g3q-BZEkGMl5GJ71XEZ2wHn5x16vd9MpGoNx5IP5An6gyYiIz7wSeIqJY2bwSAi6R6b1VoP3DByG-zeD1gAzTeSpOggGX8ySKJLEr3rvEgeCf1SPYtvQUoQMrgWd3MKmxhTNZKxQ/s320/boys+and+goats.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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As we visit different families, we hear the same story –
babies are being born and the animals are doing well.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We are told how excited families are that
their flocks are already growing and that they are benefitting from the milk
and that their gardens are growing thanks to manure from the goats.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As we make our way back home, Q tells us that
these visits are what encourages him. It makes him know with all certainty that
this program is working, that it is changing lives and that it is of value. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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August 7, 2012 – Bulawayo, Zimbabwe<o:p></o:p></div>
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Fiesta time!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Throughout
the past two weeks Eric, Morgan and I have been making tortillas in preparation
for this evening.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We’ve invited
approximately 50 friends over for a Mexican goodbye party.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The day passes with us chopping tomatoes and
onions, making guacamole, spicing ground beef, grating cheese, making Mexican rice,
hanging a homemade piñata the kids made (Chicken Joe), and decorating the
yard.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We purchase wood for a fire and
get ready to light it on a wheelbarrow so we can move it anywhere we want once
we set up seats outside.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
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Soon, 5:30pm is here and friends start arriving.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Juju and Ria stand at the gate welcoming everyone
with a loud “bienvenidos!”.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In no time,
the main house is streaming with people and everyone has a fabulous time with
Gypsy Kings playing in the background and chocolate cake topping off the
meal.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
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How neat it is to have so many of our Zimbabwean friends
joining us on this night!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We don’t say
goodbye, but rather, “until we meet again”.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I look around the room and know I will miss these people terribly.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They’ve welcomed us into their homes and into
their lives and we are grateful.<o:p></o:p></div>
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August 8, 2012 – Coronation, Zimbabwe<o:p></o:p></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgebsshpCTKD_MfFXTVnBumOw5-mnvnOFXbBDFlhNImbS5if-HYip79Vdiavn_kajHr39d2paeoqqcyTpqBa-7_97SQblOSQCaNbeY-NMCHvmUPViPNeeMrhivlb-OkEf-8-9BEWeOnH3A/s1600/dusty+faces.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgebsshpCTKD_MfFXTVnBumOw5-mnvnOFXbBDFlhNImbS5if-HYip79Vdiavn_kajHr39d2paeoqqcyTpqBa-7_97SQblOSQCaNbeY-NMCHvmUPViPNeeMrhivlb-OkEf-8-9BEWeOnH3A/s320/dusty+faces.jpg" width="320" /></a>The dancing and singing start before we arrive at the
meeting place where grandmas are waiting for us.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We make our way through a huge group of
people who are waiting during a feeding program and I am grateful that we are
not doing feedings in that way.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I firmly
believe in development (unless the help is in response to an emergency) and am
grateful that we are working on getting families to a place where they can help
themselves.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p><br />
<br />
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We arrive at our meeting place and join in the singing and
dancing, clapping to the rhythm. Feeling incredibly welcomed, we sit with the
grandma’s to discuss how their animals are faring and to plan for the garden
pilot project. They each receive three packets of seeds and Aiden passes them
out as each name is called.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I am so
proud of these children of mine – how they have adapted, how they are growing
up showing mercy and kindness, how they are not afraid simply because someone
is different from them, how they eat foods which aren’t in their normal food repertoire,
and how they willing to try new things.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>The children have a blast visiting some of the grandmothers and
children, holding newborn kids and petting older, cantankerous ones.<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
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The day is long and we don’t get home until after 8pm.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Aiden and Juju are asleep by the time we
return. I wish I were too, because I know tonight will be a long night.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOR1RCv8eoA7bwCx8auV3VoUPV4XEfayFRajrkjj69Bs1pqiap9fzER6Ax2s2mtANsgYIx07SvlEd8wBHOG3iPVva2YOM2RK6WA45Dl1wHKzeTwWe1PcaAC0Fy19Rhrct4uatn6-1NF0U/s1600/aiden.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOR1RCv8eoA7bwCx8auV3VoUPV4XEfayFRajrkjj69Bs1pqiap9fzER6Ax2s2mtANsgYIx07SvlEd8wBHOG3iPVva2YOM2RK6WA45Dl1wHKzeTwWe1PcaAC0Fy19Rhrct4uatn6-1NF0U/s320/aiden.jpg" width="320" /></a>As we enter the cottage, we are faced with packed suitcases,
suitcases needing the last minute items in them and a myriad other small things
to be done. Up until close to midnight, we get it all done, saying over and
over again how we really aren’t ready to go home yet.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We miss our families but we love the slower
pace of life in Africa and the less focus on time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I am not looking forward to hectic days but
would rather be in place where I can get my work done without a ton of stress
attached to it because of other outside stressors.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
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<o:p> </o:p>Zimbabwe has been a refuge this summer and I am grateful.</div>
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<br /></div>
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I want to do more for this country. Will you help me by voting for a photo we have in a contest? We have four days to bring the photo back to first place and to win. All we need is for you to vote using your email address and to share on Facebook and email to your friends, asking them to do the same. We have approximately $6000 riding on this contest, thanks to generous donors. The link to vote is: <a href="http://www.globalgiving.org/poll/vote/?pollOptionId=21">http://www.globalgiving.org/poll/vote/?pollOptionId=21</a></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10013874072055158696noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6355554104589786402.post-8581430163711363292012-08-08T07:06:00.001-07:002012-08-08T07:06:27.225-07:00Service<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Having just returned from a mission trip to Central America, I realize now more than ever that Americans are the sole occupants of a large and shiny social bubble. If you’ll pardon the generalization, I’d say our concerns can sometimes be pretty narrow, limited to ourselves and more significantly our group, i.e. Americans. We buy glossy electronics for our children and friends. We fret that our upper and middle classes may have money unduly taxed away from them. We relegate to the back of our minds children and families around the world who struggle to survive and sometimes fail to.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">A quick disclaimer—I’m not writing this blog entry to harp on material inequality. I’m certainly not going to say that a gigantic transfer of economic resources from rich countries to poor countries needs to happen, because if orchestrated blindly, with little or no cross-cultural interaction, such a transfer can never bring justice. Hopefully, we don’t expect money to solve problems like HIV/AIDS. No, my particular objection is to something much more terrible than global inequality, something that indeed fuels it.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">My objection is to our suffocation of global neighborship, our shrunken definition of family. I object to our selective indifference. I object when, for example, the voices of countries such as Guatemala and the Democratic Republic of the Congo are drowned out in global affairs. I object when children live through their favorite holidays without any gifts because no one with resources <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">thought</i> about those children. The unimpressive images that float into our heads when we visualize global poverty and disease are faceless, dark, far away, not real. Oftentimes we convince ourselves subconsciously that the world’s poor are ‘over there.’ They are outside. They are Other.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">This tendency is human nature. It’s nothing to beat ourselves up about. But it is definitely something for us to realize and, better yet, to transcend. Because on a deeper level, we know that citizens of other countries are not beyond our concern. We know that they are in fact family, our brothers and sisters. We know that we are their Keepers, as they are ours.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Service is recognizing who is family. To serve someone, they must be real to us. We must place them in the same category that we place ourselves, the category worthy of our care and our attention. Objectively, that category is all-inclusive.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Therefore, I say Go. Get out, see the world and its people, and get to know them. Serve them, be there for them, and let them do the same for you. And then come back home, with something in your heart that feels a lot like selflessness, like freedom, like justice. Go.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">The AFCA regularly sends people to Africa to interact with and improve the lives of children with AIDS and their biological(!) families. We would love for you to come and serve with us. Maybe, however, this is a commitment that you just can’t make. That’s perfectly understandable; there are a myriad of other ways for you to help your gigantic extended family out, and the AFCA is one of many pathways for your help. Whether you choose us or not, please serve as you are able. The rest of our family needs us. For more information on how to serve through the AFCA, visit our main website. <o:p></o:p></span></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10013874072055158696noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6355554104589786402.post-58230762798730114652012-08-01T09:35:00.003-07:002012-08-01T09:35:26.251-07:00Mopani Worms and the WeaversAugust 1, 2012 - Bulawayo, Zimbabwe<br />
<br />
Last week we were given a bag of Mopani worms because we were curious about them. I'd heard that they are quite delicious and that they are easy to prepare and full of protein and everything that is good. While I wasn't about to go running to pick them off the Mopani tree, I wasn't put off by the bag of worms we received.<br />
<br />
The worms came to us dried up and shriveled in a plastic bag.<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRXboN6Pwn60zJRkd8HRTxuaGKII7PrI_4LZ6y4KQ13ZasgLahyTpWSzI1h9EhfIY3PQAoYJgsAbOXwMonbrilsyh2KcAcHPt1FK1ynbibm9O1sPKlCPJEGriC5JW_RjRWknxGimh5Zyk/s1600/DSC_0340.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="133" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRXboN6Pwn60zJRkd8HRTxuaGKII7PrI_4LZ6y4KQ13ZasgLahyTpWSzI1h9EhfIY3PQAoYJgsAbOXwMonbrilsyh2KcAcHPt1FK1ynbibm9O1sPKlCPJEGriC5JW_RjRWknxGimh5Zyk/s200/DSC_0340.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">recipe</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
I ask Q what in the world to do with them since he is quite the fan of the "little fellows", as he calls them. He asked his wife for the recipe and before I know it, my cell phone dings and the recipe is ready for me to use. Today seems like worm-cooking weather (if there is such a thing), so I came home early from the office with a goal in mind.<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCuxXWSvlyuJn6RWIHLZP8Vp9N8Bg-dWGRukh2LguC5Gfum-UnJo_-6MlMVri8XLUv2pUTAuWaOlXf0Iut22Xkf33RxFTSBZ3tsVogjEH17qQIYbFvZXP8hfJvS5wCXr0dVspFaPLwCKQ/s1600/DSC_0332.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCuxXWSvlyuJn6RWIHLZP8Vp9N8Bg-dWGRukh2LguC5Gfum-UnJo_-6MlMVri8XLUv2pUTAuWaOlXf0Iut22Xkf33RxFTSBZ3tsVogjEH17qQIYbFvZXP8hfJvS5wCXr0dVspFaPLwCKQ/s320/DSC_0332.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Boiling the little fellows</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
First, we cook the "little fellows" for 5-8 minutes so that they get reconstituted. Those suckers got plump and soft and it was really easy to see the neat colors on their back, which I had missed when they were shriveled up. The water turns all sorts of brown, making me think about all the things worms tend to crawl through. OK. Not going to dwell on that! Moving right along. At the 8 minute mark, I take the worms off the stove stop and pour them into a strainer. I heat up some oil and in they go. <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKZJGawrGgBWAnZWvO-Vvi5eZDDeQYcvJwKPGG6InwiA1wQk-3I8ljfQ1l_M6S6juVg_Trnpl7P7-YauvdC1-ISeCOzsSfllckvpsw5wEhnE7Hu6aeMw8hZ3zlPSNs_lolvcuBkGJAllY/s1600/DSC_0344.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKZJGawrGgBWAnZWvO-Vvi5eZDDeQYcvJwKPGG6InwiA1wQk-3I8ljfQ1l_M6S6juVg_Trnpl7P7-YauvdC1-ISeCOzsSfllckvpsw5wEhnE7Hu6aeMw8hZ3zlPSNs_lolvcuBkGJAllY/s320/DSC_0344.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
I fry them for what seems like an eternity, trying to get them crispy. I don't want to burn them, so I keep flipping them over and over, making sure they get cooked on all sides. Once I hear the sound of something crispy frying, it is time to put some salt on them and to pop them in our mouths. Morgan and I give them a try and they aren't bad at all! Aiden runs into the house (he's been outside all afternoon), asks what we are eating and decides he'd like to try them. The kid loooves them! He pops them in his mouth, chews, swallows, and asks for more. <br />
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCmGzNi_aLZuHVWVHhTRPKHZxaFw5FUmlE4YFA4lLmo4BU41uD2OvUtKrDqQUuuQI_k_r4lKZjFJGIu6WwMVji19EDoSh4e_a9Xh55wvlPUTPbXBHI3WmaVBQAWuNeydpxXhyphenhyphenX1c9YOqg/s1600/DSC_0353.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCmGzNi_aLZuHVWVHhTRPKHZxaFw5FUmlE4YFA4lLmo4BU41uD2OvUtKrDqQUuuQI_k_r4lKZjFJGIu6WwMVji19EDoSh4e_a9Xh55wvlPUTPbXBHI3WmaVBQAWuNeydpxXhyphenhyphenX1c9YOqg/s320/DSC_0353.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">tasting the worms</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
A second recipe received from Q suggested cooking tomatoes with the fried worms, so I added tomato to half the fried worms. <br />
<br />
We prefer the original recipe, without the tomatoes.<br />
<br />
I'm guessing the mopani worms were a hit for us. Not something I'd order at a restaurant over filet mignon, but not something I'd turn my head to. If I ever didn't want one, I know Aiden would eat his portion and mine, with no problem whatsoever.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieKMPQpLuknpxMNpDUtWlEdw8a4-oyKfzE3jCuyIcWePAcyCyn4iJDCJBgzB3CR37jmtI6m8EOQi6ZSvVIBau1TLkLH7jo6WKK1NyuSkc-BaiJSTDILis89fyh7CIzPGYht66j-XNPF1o/s1600/DSC_0355.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieKMPQpLuknpxMNpDUtWlEdw8a4-oyKfzE3jCuyIcWePAcyCyn4iJDCJBgzB3CR37jmtI6m8EOQi6ZSvVIBau1TLkLH7jo6WKK1NyuSkc-BaiJSTDILis89fyh7CIzPGYht66j-XNPF1o/s320/DSC_0355.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">worms with tomatoes</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
I hear Eric chomping on worms as I type.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10013874072055158696noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6355554104589786402.post-79489829413390735572012-07-31T00:21:00.001-07:002012-08-01T05:49:33.691-07:00Help Needed<br />
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Dear friends,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_75PIoub-_Puoiw26qkz-18YWyQRQ4p-shyphenhyphen_nmc3vHbQi2y6U41uIcgkuUD-aPa9efr0eZAQ6TeiY2yH6mmbj0YMCXHGd-YqROMLQCjvjmvF2OYL3HhcSVnPNNPMS9AtuBWEyiLRWn_I/s1600/happy+-+small.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_75PIoub-_Puoiw26qkz-18YWyQRQ4p-shyphenhyphen_nmc3vHbQi2y6U41uIcgkuUD-aPa9efr0eZAQ6TeiY2yH6mmbj0YMCXHGd-YqROMLQCjvjmvF2OYL3HhcSVnPNNPMS9AtuBWEyiLRWn_I/s320/happy+-+small.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Voting starts on August 1!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">One of the photos taken by the American Foundation for
Children with AIDS (AFCA) has been selected as a finalist in a contest hosted
by Global Giving!</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Here is the link where you will vote: </span><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><a href="http://www.globalgiving.org/poll/vote/?pollOptionId=21">http://www.globalgiving.org/poll/vote/?pollOptionId=21</a>.</span><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I took this photo while in Zimbabwe during a
goat distribution to grandmothers who are raising AIDS orphans.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">The photo which receives the most votes by noon on August 15<sup><span style="font-size: x-small;">th</span></sup>
will win $1000 for the organization, plus, $3000 from matching grants, AND it will be highlighted on the Global
Giving home page, which opens us up to many more donations.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Voting starts at noon on August 1, so we please be
ready to vote and to ask others to vote as well.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Only one vote will be accepted per email
address, so voting more than once from the same email address does not
count.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">We ask you to please vote
and to ask your friends, family and colleagues to vote for our photo, too. Emails, facebook, twitter, list serves - all these are ways you can get the word out.</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Think creatively, too.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>You can take your laptop to a café and you can ask people to vote for us
right then and there.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Or, take your
smartphone to work and ask all of your colleagues to vote.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">On behalf of the kids,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">tanya<o:p></o:p></span></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10013874072055158696noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6355554104589786402.post-77923213335549057872012-07-27T11:04:00.005-07:002012-07-27T11:04:39.238-07:00Vet Kits and Redistribution News<strong>July 25, 2012 - Mayeze, Mapane, and somewhere or the other, Zimbabwe</strong><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGT__jWSkurnjBOb3zlwzrl7y6C6f9uQ_zbEb3Fv9ciMCvqsn2k5UoIxZD9gq1TV553S60bTgp3pWeFDZ8jYpMYev7YplVHjJLDVjuDNqIKGJzhNknFG9xnN0oKsqLCbUXABda16-RiSk/s1600/vet+kit.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGT__jWSkurnjBOb3zlwzrl7y6C6f9uQ_zbEb3Fv9ciMCvqsn2k5UoIxZD9gq1TV553S60bTgp3pWeFDZ8jYpMYev7YplVHjJLDVjuDNqIKGJzhNknFG9xnN0oKsqLCbUXABda16-RiSk/s320/vet+kit.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Coordinator with Q</td></tr>
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Today we distribute veterinary kits to communities where para-vets have been trained and where orphaned families have also learned about husbandry and basic veterinary skills. Q reviews what is in each kit and it is plain to see the pride in the faces of the coordinators who receive the homemade, wooden kits.<br />
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AFCA provides these kits to the communities with refills for the first year of a program. As families earn money from the sales of milk, manure and veggies from gardens, the community must cover the costs for the refilling of kits after the first year.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrJNnNkhAaHimvMMJUgkLLLN1QSbawos1jMLfWeZXWFiLRJECp2YXmmIVu77faASc-mJCXStK9Czg619Pv17vM3uK8xAlczH24X3m7oYELOODZowXJZdBuIQ_NzNat256TSc_6KyJZ4Tk/s1600/vet+kit2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrJNnNkhAaHimvMMJUgkLLLN1QSbawos1jMLfWeZXWFiLRJECp2YXmmIVu77faASc-mJCXStK9Czg619Pv17vM3uK8xAlczH24X3m7oYELOODZowXJZdBuIQ_NzNat256TSc_6KyJZ4Tk/s320/vet+kit2.jpg" width="213" /></a></div>
Just last week, we had 15 goats get sick with pneumonia. As families noticed that their goats were not doing well, they ran to tell the para-vet, who checked them out. Soon, medicine was dispensed to the owners of the goats and in no time, the animals were receiving antibiotics and now, they are doing well. I was happy to be here to witness how the community worked together to put to use the available medicines and how quickly they were in touch with Q to keep him informed of the going ons and how they cared for their animals. Every one of the families has told me how well they have been trained and how nice it is to be able to care for their animals as they are able to.<br />
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<strong>July 26, 2012 - Bulawayo, Zimbabwe</strong><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Juju going to school - in uniform</td></tr>
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<strong>July 27, 2012 - Ntepe, Zimbabwe</strong><br />
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Q and I hit the road again, this time heading south, towards South Africa. We are going to the first area where AFCA/ZOE distributed goats. It is time to visit the families with a spot check. They don't expect us, so we feel we'll get a good read at how things are going.<br />
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It is a gorgeous day, with blue skies that make me want to reach out to see if it is real. While needed, rain is not even a possibility today and the day feels perfect. We arrive at the coordinator's house and Q hands me the truck keys, as four of us won't fit in the cab. He and a beneficiary sit in the back while the coordinator and I sit in the cab, with him giving me directions and me driving over bumps, rocks, bits of wood, holes, and sand. We arrive at the first house and meet with a grandma who just this morning lost her daughter and was put in charge of her grandson. <br />
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This boy and his mother had received goats three years ago because she was very ill and we needed to help the boy become able to care for himself at her demise. He is still young and grandma will take care of him now. Their goats have gone from 3 pregnant ones to 23!!! Their flock is amazing and they are all healthy goats. Since three years have passed, it is time to redistribute and to bless another orphan family with three goats. The redistribution celebration will happen in November and I couldn't be happier. There will be 15 goats redistributed in total this year! Seems like a small number, but this is a sure sign that what we've begun here is working. <br />
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Since there has been a death in the community, most of the families are making their way to the church and we aren't able to meet too many families. We met with one woman who has raised 3 children and has one more at home. They've had goats for two years and their flock now totals 8, due to the death of two kids (drought). Another family lost two goats to cobra snake bites. One other family, represented by a 13 year old boy, has 9 goats, with another kid ready to be born any day now. This boy was so sweet and made my day by smiling as he talked to us. It is so hopeful to see these families and to have them tell us about the program and how they attend trainings and to hear how the flocks are growing. To everyone who has donated towards this work - well done and thank you!<br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10013874072055158696noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6355554104589786402.post-71350767985052981092012-07-26T14:44:00.004-07:002012-07-26T14:44:53.810-07:00Origins<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">There’s a lot of confusion surrounding the origins of HIV. Where did it come from? How did it enter the human population? Why has HIV/AIDS surfaced in humans only within the last 30 years? And why is Africa so disproportionately affected? I have heard the racist claim, put forth only partly as a joke, that HIV first entered the human population through sex with chimpanzees in Africa. I have also heard the declaration, not at all a joke, that the US government intentionally developed HIV as a biological weapon, intending to wipe out homosexuals and control black population growth. There is much misunderstanding and unjustified speculation where the origins of the global HIV/AIDS pandemic are concerned.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">So how did AIDS begin?</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">As it turns out, according to the leading theory, HIV did come from chimpanzees—through the ingestion of their meat. A virus very similar to Human Immunodeficiency Virus, called Simian Immunodeficiency Virus, infects chimpanzees the same way HIV affected humans. Both viruses are part of a group of microbes called lentiviruses, or ‘slow viruses,’ all of which do not cause health problems until well after the host organism’s initial infection. In some areas of Africa, SIV infects chimps, and African bushmen hunt chimps for food. Through digestion, the SIV virus entered the bloodstream of these hunters and their families. Because human DNA is very similar to chimpanzee DNA and because these lentiviruses are so adaptable, SIV survived in its new host species, evolving ever so slightly to defend itself against the human immune system. That multiple strains of HIV appeared in humans seemingly independently of each other supports this theory. In each new host, the virus would evolve differently in order to best ensure survival. Since African health care is poor in quality, it makes sense that the US, with better medical care, first identified AIDS as a new disease. It also makes sense that AIDS appeared on both sides of the country, because the US was not the point of origin. Admittedly, it is puzzling that HIV had not appeared in humans until the 20<sup>th</sup> century. More research has yet to determine exactly how, where, and when the first transfers took place, if this information can be ascertained at all.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">The man-eat-chimp theory is the scientific consensus, but there are others, some bordering on plausible and some almost comical. For instance, many Americans do believe in a US government conspiracy, a systematic attempt to control gay and black populations through the release of AIDS. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Another theory is that HIV began with contaminated polio vaccinations, though how they would have been contaminated is uncertain—perhaps through the use of needles in both chimps and humans. A third possible culprit, a few scholars assert, is European colonialism in the 19<sup>th</sup> and early 20<sup>th</sup> centuries. In 2000, James Moore claimed that the terrible living conditions of African labor camps in the Belgian and British Empires drove African workers to consume infected animals. Given that much of Africa is and always has been very poor, and perhaps therefore liable to eat infected animals anyway, blaming colonialism may be inappropriate. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">It seems as though a lot of people, professionally and informally, have inserted their biases into their theories about HIV’s origins. This is dangerous. Speculation about the origin of AIDS can fuel racism, for there are those who want to show that Africans have degenerate sexual practices, and that HIV is a punishment for sin. Similarly, blaming colonialism for AIDS may unduly add to the already heavy judgment many historians have laid upon European imperialists. It is important to search for the origin of HIV as objectively as possible, with the goal of adding to current knowledge of the virus, not of reinforcing one’s own beliefs or prejudices.</span></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10013874072055158696noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6355554104589786402.post-63884336562615973482012-07-24T13:15:00.001-07:002012-07-24T13:15:26.409-07:00Elephants, Lions and Tigers, oh my!!<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvasQ__n0EqJwKUYp_fQrFmHm2EksRpXVne90iZEB0aEz5hec6tV_YwqIowSWbF9nL-BK6h3CL-gO14ENo-KT4llaqXo02fidLmXVyMmnLL-IdqpgoK9myrswxqDN85Q8AKlZAEVy2IYk/s1600/aidens+face+paint.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvasQ__n0EqJwKUYp_fQrFmHm2EksRpXVne90iZEB0aEz5hec6tV_YwqIowSWbF9nL-BK6h3CL-gO14ENo-KT4llaqXo02fidLmXVyMmnLL-IdqpgoK9myrswxqDN85Q8AKlZAEVy2IYk/s320/aidens+face+paint.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Aiden says "I even painted my arm pits!"</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRRga1NKuPIFrPqac-oWIexJKsFCcaznclydeAQVEL507mhLVHPs3JGBzN2WyUKt4n90HPC3CMl0nGk8Xlwj1jlQMwwkTymdt8YU42_xXyhF767OcfGk9ZjV8fWjHQS2jcbxCaqHu7lzY/s1600/unbraiding+hair.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRRga1NKuPIFrPqac-oWIexJKsFCcaznclydeAQVEL507mhLVHPs3JGBzN2WyUKt4n90HPC3CMl0nGk8Xlwj1jlQMwwkTymdt8YU42_xXyhF767OcfGk9ZjV8fWjHQS2jcbxCaqHu7lzY/s320/unbraiding+hair.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Juju getting her braids taken out</td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkfdBHxy-EIDIJqn1Oix5JhVV5KThJmjGx5Tq1nqOZIOSta-NeZBUxnTqGEcVPFmy2mJW_WfCKR8WeB7mpqv0_bZ7woF7VghZHbUHvkOX9FI4tMuNz76Y0141jmz0rp61OJ6PEM950yac/s1600/welcome+to+hwange.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkfdBHxy-EIDIJqn1Oix5JhVV5KThJmjGx5Tq1nqOZIOSta-NeZBUxnTqGEcVPFmy2mJW_WfCKR8WeB7mpqv0_bZ7woF7VghZHbUHvkOX9FI4tMuNz76Y0141jmz0rp61OJ6PEM950yac/s320/welcome+to+hwange.jpg" width="320" /></a>Last week was splendid! We went on a family vacation and visited Hwange National Park for two nights and Victoria Falls for two nights. It was so fun to drive off after packing a friend's truck (she is so brave to let two americans drive it, as it is a standard car, driven on the opposite side of the road) and to head out with no computers in tow.<br />
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We pack food, blankets, towels, clothes, and huge smiles as we get in the truck and pull out of the Stambolie's house for the first non-working vacation I can remember in a long, long time. No houses to build, no repairs to be made to day care centers, no repairs to roofs. No...we were going on a VACATION!<br />
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Four hours and lots of snacks after leaving, we arrive at the park and unpack our belongings in a lodge we rented for the two nights. As we walked around, taking in our surroundings, I hear Eric muttering that one of the doors doesn't lock and that during the day, we'll have to lock everything into a bedroom. I go to the kitchen to put away the food and notice that the refrigerator door is held to the fridge with a coat hanger. As I take the coat hanger off, the door falls. We get so excited about heating up some water for tea only to find out that the electric burner takes 45 minutes to do its job. We roll our eyes, but take it in stride, as we are on VA-CA-TION and nothing is going to dampen our spirits!<br />
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Once settled, we head out to do a quick drive before dinner time and we see a honey badger! This is an animal that is not usually seen in the day time and it is something Juju has learned lots about. She is so excited and tells us all about the animal. Next, we spy elephants and kudu and impala and we decide that this is going to be the best trip ever. We vow to get up at 6:00 so we can be at the park gate the minute they open up. With bellies full of ramen noodles (took an hour to get that darn supper cooked), clean from warm baths, and full of excitement, we all hit the sack.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmeDBpSSAzGoownxHZ9UAntaZWRo6ZMnu3tuSh0KCdvnNBMXGByhyphenhyphen9mPYcwAnS9vKYse7xJeu1RrMrvEPK39RBmj7Ft-MjXirZlvLR-Llr8k3mskEOHbgoYDfKBMlCEImdVCXcntkaHXc/s1600/zebra.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmeDBpSSAzGoownxHZ9UAntaZWRo6ZMnu3tuSh0KCdvnNBMXGByhyphenhyphen9mPYcwAnS9vKYse7xJeu1RrMrvEPK39RBmj7Ft-MjXirZlvLR-Llr8k3mskEOHbgoYDfKBMlCEImdVCXcntkaHXc/s320/zebra.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
No one needs to be woken up the next morning and we are at the gate entry at 6:30 sharp. No one else is there and we have park to ourselves. We drive for a couple of hours and see 40 elephants crossing the road right in front of us. They were very, very close and it was exciting. Then, giraffe and zebra and warthogs and impala and birds of all kinds make their presence known. We try to convince Morgan to strap on a piece of meat on each side of her and to run through the savana so that we'll all get to see lions, but she just won't do it. So, no cats are seen by this crew, but we are all happy anyway. Another drive during the late evening hours and at sunset allow us to see tons and tons of animals at a watering hole, soaking up the last rays of the sun. What a sight!<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgW-48wRQ6mjYACwkuu1cHPsI39AsksruqfCaw9IOizPTgTUU1nxLuPv2aymthYbDqRA60ReiZTSKxc8e7lGZbRjrAktb3T057Te65OrcE95F1mk3jpEPZ7KwIFSR1UqU70SY4JVk_26nI/s1600/giraffe+head.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgW-48wRQ6mjYACwkuu1cHPsI39AsksruqfCaw9IOizPTgTUU1nxLuPv2aymthYbDqRA60ReiZTSKxc8e7lGZbRjrAktb3T057Te65OrcE95F1mk3jpEPZ7KwIFSR1UqU70SY4JVk_26nI/s320/giraffe+head.jpg" width="320" /></a>We arrive back to our lodge with a plan: Eric will get the kids in the bath while I get food going. Morgan will help Eric and in no time, we'll all be fed and happy. We don't count on the fact that there is no electricity and that we have no wood to make a fire. I march on down to the office just in time to see the worker locking up the office. Long story short - customer service is not quite what it should be and we didn't get vouchers to eat at the park restaurant. Instead, we get to wait for someone to bring wood. Of course, the lady who brings the wood and is supposed to start a fire, doesn't have matches. And she needs a ride home. Really?</div>
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As the moon rises over the fire, the stars come out in droves. I am dizzy looking at them, there are so many. They sing songs of ages past. They swirl and dance above us and remind us of how small we really are. Of how amazing creation is and of how big our Creator is. Even Aiden is rendered silent as he looks up and simply sighs "ohhhhh", as though his breath is taken from him. It is magical, standing in what seems to be the center of grandeur and I find myself echoing Aiden.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNJ1nkzKqCRdoU6rEVk0bahoN8g-0b6l6UQqObdb9sjrKfkw38H9DQziNvBRtiZlU67SukYY37rdRA45b_qyqekpBn9bZYwvnCM-RZ9824GikaqfzYLS2t1DTVewqKsKjtk8Wnw6OHHLA/s1600/sunset+on+zambezi.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNJ1nkzKqCRdoU6rEVk0bahoN8g-0b6l6UQqObdb9sjrKfkw38H9DQziNvBRtiZlU67SukYY37rdRA45b_qyqekpBn9bZYwvnCM-RZ9824GikaqfzYLS2t1DTVewqKsKjtk8Wnw6OHHLA/s320/sunset+on+zambezi.jpg" width="213" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sunset on the Zambezi</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
After another day and night at Hwange, we head up to Victoria Falls, where we are met with more awesomeness. The roaring of the falls is heard at our lodge and in my dreams, I think it is the air conditioning going on. We walk around the falls, getting wet in the mist and pointing out the wonders in front of us. <br />
<br />
As a surprise to the kids, we book at cruise on the Zambezi River from where we watch the sun set over Zambia and Zimbabwe, one country on either side of us. Hippos rise out of the water for air, crocodiles sun on the banks and birds swoop and dance in the distance. We eat warthog, crocodile, fish, and kudu for dinner and it is all delicious. Perfect night. Perfect way to see a bit of this lovely country we have all grown to love. <br />
<br />
Before returning to our cottage in Bulawayo, we must stop of HairMart. It just sounds too interesting to pass up, so the kids and I head that way. In no time at all, wigs are being tried on and we have a Fabio on our hands. When the fun is over, we head back to the truck and start the trek back to Bulawayo. The kids sleep in the back and I am lazy in the front seat while Eric drives the first part of the trip. <br />
<br />
We talk. We laugh. <br />
<br />
This has been good.<br />
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10013874072055158696noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6355554104589786402.post-13959628448713230592012-07-20T15:45:00.002-07:002012-07-20T15:45:58.340-07:00Coercion<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">It is fairly easy to slip into the belief that because the virus that causes AIDS is transmitted through sexual relations, acquiring AIDS is primarily the result of choice. AIDS victims <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">chose</i> to engage in unnecessarily risky behavior. Sometimes, that’s true. Oftentimes, however, the factors contributing to that risky decision are much more complex than a disinterested observer might at first assume. For millions of HIV victims around the world, and for HIV+ women in particular, putting oneself at risk is anything but voluntary.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Even if HIV were harmless, women’s lack of cultural power throughout most of sub-Saharan Africa, where HIV+ population density is far higher than anywhere else in the world, is troubling. Men are given extensive cultural dominance over women. By and large, men reserve household decision-making power for themselves—women’s personal autonomy only extends as far as their partners will allow it. By extension, men control how they exercise their sexuality, and women largely do not. If a man wants sex from his wife, or mistress, he has the physical and cultural power to obtain it. No one will deny it to him, and you can imagine how badly he might desire it at any unpredictable moment. You can also imagine the consequences that brave women suffer when they object to sex demands—and, conversely, you can understand the strong pressure to comply.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Add HIV into this women’s rights nightmare. The obvious, and highly commonplace, scenario is one in which a man has contracted HIV through an earlier partner, demands sex of his current one, and gets it. Maybe the new girlfriend would have consented anyway, but maybe she would not have. Maybe she doesn’t even like this man, she’s just acquiescing quietly because she feels threatened. Or maybe, at first, she thought she wanted relations with him, but as she realized her impotence, she began to regret her irreversible decision. Most likely, she’s one of millions of African teenagers who feel obligated to sleep with men more than fifteen years older than they are. Maybe she even worries about HIV, but knowing that the damage of AIDS occurs years after infection, she yields to protect herself from domestic abuse in the here-and-now. Whatever the specifics, and each of the aforementioned possibilities happens all the time, the woman now probably carries HIV.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Since it is common to maintain more than one partner in sub-Saharan Africa, especially for men, the cycle of transmission through sexual relations, whether coerced or voluntary, can be pernicious. A HIV+ man with many partners can be especially dangerous both because he can force sex and because it is easier for men to infect women than vice versa; the female genital tract retains the virus more easily after intercourse. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Well, can’t the woman just use protection then? Doesn’t that solve the problem? They can, but in general, it’s highly culturally discouraged. In innumerable communities throughout Africa, particularly rural and isolated ones, men and more than a few women view condoms as a kind of dishonorable barrier that taints the value of the sexual experience, even as a Western imposition on a particularly community’s indigenous way of life, not as a life-saving preventative measure. For these men, using condoms often means you lose face in front of your buddies, no matter how many lives you endanger. As a result, even if a woman would want to use protection, she may feel unable to suggest it, much less to demand it, for fear of angering the man. Were women more powerful relative to men, there is no question that the incidence rate of HIV in sub-Saharan Africa would go down.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">For this reason, HIV is intricately tied to women’s rights, and a large part of preventing the spread of HIV is empowering women throughout Africa and around the world to resist the domestic and cultural pressure to engage in unwanted sexual relations. Women need to feel able to say ‘no’ when it is right to do so, both for their own sake and for the sake of their children, who may end up carrying HIV through them. So often overlooked, women’s empowerment is part of the cultural battle than must be waged against AIDS.</span></div>
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<br /></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10013874072055158696noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6355554104589786402.post-62420793714084438342012-07-16T09:02:00.002-07:002012-07-16T09:02:41.822-07:00Special Challenges for Children<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">For more than 30 million adults around the world, carrying HIV is an onerous burden. Maybe they know that inside them there is something lethal lying dormant, waiting—and maybe they don’t. But when HIV manifests as AIDS, half of these victims won’t have access to the proper treatment for it, and they will probably die. The economic, physical, and emotional strain of living with AIDS is incredibly wearing, and adults around the world suffer under that burden.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">But for a lot of unfair reasons, the plight of children with AIDS is worse. First of all, many of them are born straight into treatment. If the pregnant mother has not been taking antiretroviral pills (which is true of about half of all HIV+ mothers—more than half in remote, resource-poor settings), the at-risk child enters the world greeted by a week’s worth of nevirapine injections, which has approximately a 50% of preventing mother-to-child transmission of virus. These injections are used most often if the mother failed to come forward for antiretroviral treatment earlier in the pregnancy, not because she did not have access, because, again, in resource-poor settings, both ARV AND nevirapine may not be available.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Diagnosing HIV/AIDS in children is more expensive and complicated that diagnosing adults. This is because through breastfeeding, whether or not the child truly becomes infected, the mother transfers HIV antibodies into the child’s bloodstream. These may cause the HIV tests to come back falsely positive, so to properly test the child, physicians must use a more expensive and rarer test, called the polymerase chain reaction. Since this test is not available in poor, rural areas, it is often impossible to test at-risk children for HIV.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Even more unfortunate is the fact that children succumb more quickly to AIDS than adults do. Their immune systems are easier for the HIV virus to break down, so when a child is born HIV+, it’s really bad news. Whereas an adult will typically remain outwardly health for 6-8 years after their initial infection, children can become sickly and die within a year. And while antiretroviral medication is now much more available than it was even a decade ago, the vast majority of anti-AIDS drug combinations were designed with adults in mind. There are no directions for children! Fortunately, a few studies and the experiences of children who have taken adult medication by necessity show that smaller doses of adult ARV are generally effective at keeping AIDS at bay in children, but nevertheless, the lack of knowledge of how children’s bodies react to ARV keeps their guardians in the dark should a rogue side effect occur. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Finally, on top of all of that, all children with AIDS have HIV+ mothers—that’s more or less the only way they can get it. This means that the children’s mothers and often fathers as well are at risk of dying at a time when the children are both young and suffering. Most children with AIDS have lost at least one parent to the disease, and many are orphans. Luckily, most cultures in sub-Saharan Africa, where the disease is most prevalent, emphasize close extended families, such that most orphans are taken in by relatives. The loss of a working parent still a crushing blow, however, draining the resources available to the child’s new caretaker.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">For all of these reasons, the AFCA has chosen to focus on helping children with AIDS and their families survive and live healthy and productive lives with a decent level of comfort. Browse our main site to learn how you can help children with AIDS see a brighter future!</span></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10013874072055158696noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6355554104589786402.post-89798576267529340272012-07-15T13:22:00.000-07:002012-07-15T13:23:09.799-07:00Faithfulness<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><strong>July 13, 2012 –Coronation, Zimbabwe<o:p></o:p></strong></span></div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg88oVA4NjKgt1Hl-JdOXvGxzYQJYH7WT2W9jH2Iir0eTL65uERrpU1E26o0rYVt15gyWWtj7YHBJoljZcp5HzJYhuR2h0uWeERN5m6TgwnKSeE6DHd5y1Ru2-1eM92xDXr89djfxHfU8Q/s1600/mat.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg88oVA4NjKgt1Hl-JdOXvGxzYQJYH7WT2W9jH2Iir0eTL65uERrpU1E26o0rYVt15gyWWtj7YHBJoljZcp5HzJYhuR2h0uWeERN5m6TgwnKSeE6DHd5y1Ru2-1eM92xDXr89djfxHfU8Q/s320/mat.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">They gave me this mat</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Eight hours of driving.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Two hours of workshops.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Two large cabbages.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Eight kilos of chicken.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Two kilos of tomatoes.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Two kilos of onions.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Six kilos of rice.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">One mat.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Twenty grandmothers and grandfathers.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Eleven songs.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">A million smiles.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnMQClwLSGtba6pTb5B14iJdBHherRfyP2NU9Jj62f-bX3WHC3j8PKrP3ZG44uosWJK458qh9OCMngu8v-dfL4LNDM5z2HVAz8-JP17Xe6pWn25ofHQ3i0dxToQme89KYO91xZVWE2KVc/s1600/little+girl.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnMQClwLSGtba6pTb5B14iJdBHherRfyP2NU9Jj62f-bX3WHC3j8PKrP3ZG44uosWJK458qh9OCMngu8v-dfL4LNDM5z2HVAz8-JP17Xe6pWn25ofHQ3i0dxToQme89KYO91xZVWE2KVc/s320/little+girl.jpg" width="214" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">If I had to state my day in numbers, the above would be the
sum of it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Ncube, Q and I head out of
Bulawayo at 6:00am and stop in Masvingo to purchase food for our workshop
before driving the last 20k to Coronation.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>This is where we delivered sixty goats a few weeks ago and I am excited
to be back.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When we finished giving out
goats last time around, an older lady who was selected by the others approached
me and asked if I would consider giving them seeds for a community garden.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She assured me that “we will all work on it
and it will provide food for the children until we can use the goats for meat
and we’ll make sure we work hard and we’ll use conservation farming so that
vegetables will grow even during the dry seasons and we’ll save seeds for next
year and you won’t be sorry because we are very serious with the donations and
will you please help us with seeds?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">All this came out breathlessly, quickly.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As though afraid that she’d lose her nerve if
she didn’t get it all out at once.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It
was easy to say that I’d think about it because this is the type of project
AFCA wants to do since it can be a first step in keeping people out of a system
where they expect to receive gifts year after year.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This is the type of thing that can help them
become self-sufficient, so I told her I’ll think about it and will get back to
them with an answer.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I don’t know if they believed me,
but they thanked me and we said goodbye.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwyhDPIvngaIl796ER17nVpCqwTmudpj9UAjIz4aTJWLmYlL37pRj586iK0_ejK8n2r8T3pcPhgVoBFrOfYVD9-UMrGX4AAcK2XQDu4or67EXf6V1w42EsEBpBSYY_296qMqzhxzdPtOg/s1600/church.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwyhDPIvngaIl796ER17nVpCqwTmudpj9UAjIz4aTJWLmYlL37pRj586iK0_ejK8n2r8T3pcPhgVoBFrOfYVD9-UMrGX4AAcK2XQDu4or67EXf6V1w42EsEBpBSYY_296qMqzhxzdPtOg/s320/church.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">church in coronation</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Now, I am traveling back to Coronation, a tiny enclave of houses
sitting on some of the driest land I’ve seen in this country.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The ladies wait for us at the same church where
we first met, thinking that all we will be doing today is a workshop about
goats.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They take out their paper and
pens and are ready to take notes about goat care when I surprise them by
announcing that they have been selected to be part of a pilot project for personal
gardens and that AFCA will provide seed for them if they want to participate in
the trial. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEga-662KdirZOAT7O0jCh5LQ4a5y_WDUDcOaMznzqFO5yT37Vru8b98ER1GXbK4ZFkrxwiyfN5mbVthdj-L4KAEUNdEoHDG5sip6hGUuE27seqHzQdEau6e87au5KcbQjKXxecNebwMX5M/s1600/dancing.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEga-662KdirZOAT7O0jCh5LQ4a5y_WDUDcOaMznzqFO5yT37Vru8b98ER1GXbK4ZFkrxwiyfN5mbVthdj-L4KAEUNdEoHDG5sip6hGUuE27seqHzQdEau6e87au5KcbQjKXxecNebwMX5M/s320/dancing.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">They will receive training
on how to use conservation farming to keep the soil humid even during times of
drought, they will learn how to compost, how to fence, how to grow new veggies,
and how to save seeds for next year.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In
fact, drought resistant, non GMO seeds are on their way to ZOE’s offices.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Once the dancing and singing dies down, they
all register for the trial, excited that their voices were heard and that they
will get to share what they learn with other groups.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Together, it is decided that we’ll do
personal gardens and that an award (three packets of seeds) will be given to
the person with the largest harvest.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">We start the pilot project with a lesson on composting.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Ncube translates my words into Shona and the
training time goes by quickly.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They take
notes, they ask questions.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You can feel
the excitement through the tiny room and Q is a bundle of smiles as he takes it
in.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Ncube hands everyone a schedule with
deadlines for fencing, plot readiness, composting, when seedlings will be
planted, etc.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It is so amazing to hear
them participate and to know, to just KNOW that this is going to be a great
project.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>These women and men are so
ready to do this!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They are taking a
small gift and are going to turn it into something wonderful for their
families.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjI2dKKbwYxS9Zqfkhj1JVG42RQbuP4kwMkbKLyFFvO9aWnoBVEDz0l-56XMKPK5usvALv_HfnodrG2mEO9fa9fVST7meRWde_mmLve1wVNGxMk28Q44804Z3HM9BI7VbN339tXqyGykd4/s1600/kitchen.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjI2dKKbwYxS9Zqfkhj1JVG42RQbuP4kwMkbKLyFFvO9aWnoBVEDz0l-56XMKPK5usvALv_HfnodrG2mEO9fa9fVST7meRWde_mmLve1wVNGxMk28Q44804Z3HM9BI7VbN339tXqyGykd4/s320/kitchen.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Someone's kitchen</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Together, we all walk to their homes to give ideas of where
they could have a garden.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Some have
small plots going, with spinach and greens growing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Some have nothing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Some have a dream, but need help in making it
a reality.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We talk, we plan, we dream
with the.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In all the houses, we see their
healthy goats roaming around eating anything they can get their teeth on.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Each guardian has built a nice hut for their
goats and they boast at how the milk is good for the children and they show
them to us proudly.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Q takes this time to
start up with his workshop, using live goats as models for his trainings.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>An old man, leaning on his cane, looks
carefully into the eyes of a goat and tells us that the goat is healthy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Q looks, too, and patting the man on the back,
lets him know that he answered well.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeNcwjTbM72DGYqVxSS8jHdCcTkIh_Nf8Cn_Zn6HutUf3BqhG4cHC5YHIkWRG6m8bFJ_-2io9aZoF8SfaAhyphenhyphenGvwYnpdtbo2560YDt3PVb4sdVil96-QfZqPqpHH3TXAMz-qr_YDRIHk9U/s1600/cooks.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeNcwjTbM72DGYqVxSS8jHdCcTkIh_Nf8Cn_Zn6HutUf3BqhG4cHC5YHIkWRG6m8bFJ_-2io9aZoF8SfaAhyphenhyphenGvwYnpdtbo2560YDt3PVb4sdVil96-QfZqPqpHH3TXAMz-qr_YDRIHk9U/s320/cooks.jpg" width="214" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">They cooked</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgM0TkMdUyYKiMjIoLj2O2Urb5O_-xHvNcMLrKpMWhYBDvXR42tGmYsyklp4yodbRrRjYNI79m9A3wPgKleLocVSHVXfgg44C0Y9-E8yKL1pOTPrbP91ZjQ6TQTYMXAtJhCnk7bp_bpZNQ/s1600/cooks+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgM0TkMdUyYKiMjIoLj2O2Urb5O_-xHvNcMLrKpMWhYBDvXR42tGmYsyklp4yodbRrRjYNI79m9A3wPgKleLocVSHVXfgg44C0Y9-E8yKL1pOTPrbP91ZjQ6TQTYMXAtJhCnk7bp_bpZNQ/s320/cooks+2.jpg" width="214" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bringing food from kitchen to church</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Back at the church, Q continues with his workshop.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Ncube has to translate for him, too, so they
hand me the truck keys and ask me to bring the prepared lunch to the
church.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>HA!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Silly men!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Don’t they know I’ll never find my way to the hut and back?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Thankfully, a woman comes with me and we
drive out together into the sand and dry.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>We arrive at the small round hut where three women have been cooking the
chicken, rice and veggies we brought for the training.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They hug me and seem surprised that I am
willing to carry pots, plates and water to the truck.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They clamber into the back of the truck with the food and off we go,
under the gnarled tree, past the swaying fence, over some scattered rocks, by
the skinny dog who breaks my heart, and to the church.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">We eat the delicious food they’ve prepared and as the time
approaches for us to leave, they sing one last song:<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div align="center" class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Every day</span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Every hour</span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">He is faithful</span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">To us</span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Every day</span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Every hour</span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">He is with us</span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Oh, Lord<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">To be taught a lesson about God’s faithfulness by a group of
people with nothing more than three goats, the clothes on their back, some
basic cooking utensils, orphans to look after, and a small hut to call home is
a lesson, indeed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’ve been worrying
about the $100-$150k I need to raise by the end of this year, yet the lesson I
hear today is clear – don’t worry.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Just do your job, do it well, do it to the
best of your ability.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The rest is up to
God because He is faithful.</span><o:p><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> </span></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">As we leave, the grandmothers remain at the church voting on
committee members for the garden project.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span><o:p></o:p></span></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10013874072055158696noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6355554104589786402.post-91380425172241325872012-07-11T07:24:00.003-07:002012-07-11T07:31:04.975-07:00Braided Hair and a CameraJuly 11, 2012<br />
<br />
Juju has been pretty good at doing summer school work while we are here in Zimbabwe that I told her that I'd treat her to something special if she continued using her best handwriting, not complaining and worked hard at her numbers. She complied and has been a great student during her homework times (ie when her mother needs a break from the million questions that come out of her mouth). <br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiB8QwtaLVt8EARAEQjW13SwL9vYfsW0hPAVT5xG9qfPRws2wHxN_LO0ULU6Ar21xo68Sdrt0OhakDek-Pa7ciDPMs7mc8urXL0GxUEhk1eg47Ma0IAjCFXjIpgxDZuXYk_OiOwuNnFhp8/s1600/DSC_0520.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiB8QwtaLVt8EARAEQjW13SwL9vYfsW0hPAVT5xG9qfPRws2wHxN_LO0ULU6Ar21xo68Sdrt0OhakDek-Pa7ciDPMs7mc8urXL0GxUEhk1eg47Ma0IAjCFXjIpgxDZuXYk_OiOwuNnFhp8/s320/DSC_0520.jpg" width="214" /></a>When she wakes up today, I tell her that we are going to get her hair braided. You'd have thought she'd been promised a trip to the moon! Her smile is huge and all morning long, she keeps checking the time to be sure we won't be late for our appointment. 12:45pm finally rolls around and we make our way to the Hair Dreams, recommended to us by Jean. Apparently, the stylist, Florence, is familiar with caucasian hair, so she'll take care of us just fine.<br />
<br />
After a small trim, Juju is settled into a corner of the salon and a specialist goes to work on her hair.<br />
<br />
Meanwhile, in another part of the small, tidy salon I am getting my hair washed in preparation for the requisite foreign trim I get whenever I travel. Some people collect maps, stamps or coins. I get haircuts. Whether I understand the language or the stylist understands me is not as important as the moment of getting the trim. Sometimes, the results are good. Mostly, they are not. So, excited to know the outcome, I let Florence take over. The only condition I give her is that I DO NOT WANT TO LOOK LIKE A BOY. Believing I am rather clear about this point, I sit back and let the magic happen.<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmTvtZfmC5LGONCRr33NacE9DcDq3YUvJE4CC2lRX2ZaRj_OujyRh0lVTrfKYGCqrPbSY3naQtNOiXL-7qC_LbqJhBukic_L-7BgxxTZzf7YYXh3KZuWqaiF_77R-3I_sA-HJZm_RzuxQ/s1600/DSC_0521.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmTvtZfmC5LGONCRr33NacE9DcDq3YUvJE4CC2lRX2ZaRj_OujyRh0lVTrfKYGCqrPbSY3naQtNOiXL-7qC_LbqJhBukic_L-7BgxxTZzf7YYXh3KZuWqaiF_77R-3I_sA-HJZm_RzuxQ/s320/DSC_0521.jpg" width="320" /></a>As I relax under some mighty big-sounding snips and cuts, a white towel wrapped around my neck and a blue cape which covers my top and thighs, I subtly look around and find a well-organized working area in a remarkably small space. In one corner, there stands a full 5-gallon bucket with water being heated by one of those small coil heaters that always makes me think that someone is going to get electrocuted pretty soon. <br />
<br />
To my left are magazines from years past and from which I would not venture to select a cut for fear of looking like something we all shudder about. Closer to me on the left is a mason jar with combs soaking in water. Then, the clips, the thinning shears, the razor, and finally, a small jar of talcum powder called Mr. Mountain Man. I keep a straight face as I keep looking around me. <br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0eO07twLCGfmx6fnk1Lb58epi-RMJVEDMffETBGGwKQ1e8YMXk4wHCvGzkixO5qW4g0UFj9Q3X6NXk8n1q6Fhl0AKdWUMaTBRlly_JciyX5_JV9yFj95yu7-vUrA4gTDlPQxwOyPAT4Y/s1600/DSC_0522.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0eO07twLCGfmx6fnk1Lb58epi-RMJVEDMffETBGGwKQ1e8YMXk4wHCvGzkixO5qW4g0UFj9Q3X6NXk8n1q6Fhl0AKdWUMaTBRlly_JciyX5_JV9yFj95yu7-vUrA4gTDlPQxwOyPAT4Y/s320/DSC_0522.jpg" width="214" /></a>To my right is a chair for the next customer and a little further on that side is where one gets their hair washed when you first enter. Juju is crammed into the only remaining corner and is smiling bravely as braid after braid is made in her hair. She doesn't complain of pulling or yanking, so I assume the lady is being gentle or that my child is going to be another victim of vanity. She is looking mighty cute and smiles at me when I catch her eye on the mirror in front of me, as she is behind me, slightly to one side.<br />
<br />
Florence cuts and cuts and cuts. She comments on the many cowlicks I have and seems determined to get rid of them. I remind her that I do like having a little hair left on the back so I don't look like a boy. She smiles and tells me that I have terrible cowlicks. She says the word "terrible" with fierceness and again, I am sure she is going to rid me of them all. In fact, she has done just that.<br />
<br />
Juju and I take a taxi home where Eric greets Juju with a big smile and the camera. He tells her how cute she looks and how neat her braids are. He sees me and and the smile sticks a bit. He tries to work on it but it is impossible for him to muster the words we both won't believe. So, I laugh and let him off the hook. Maybe I should have chosen a look from the magazines from long ago...<br />
<br />
He put the camera away.<br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10013874072055158696noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6355554104589786402.post-28344715248849601982012-07-09T10:06:00.000-07:002012-07-09T10:06:10.954-07:00Sunday and Monday
<strong>July 8, 2012<o:p></o:p></strong><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
Today we visit Piet and Anike, a couple from Holland who’ve
been living in Zimbabwe for 32 years.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They
graciously invite us to their house for lunch after church and we arrive
excited to make new friends.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Anike is a
gracious host, presenting us with a delicious stew and rice meal, salad and a
dessert of yogurt and stewed fruit.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It is
so nice!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Homemade wine and guava juice
completes a delicious meal where conversation flows easily and where the kids
don’t feel like they have to sit still the entire time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>After lunch, we talk and the little ones
scamper off to play in the sand pile close to the house and to make dolls out
of twigs and leaves.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They have the best
time!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<br /></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjR1ZrxgMnmfTouMoOBLe-ArOSvwThdezPcnczsl2npRZnV4XnsmurXb-99U52xhC9f0jqfjXy1YgqYPUauds47u2gV6-5Q2ydDy14AILhT993V-Klq3xOb0oxcaDeMBz0NgwllHQ1ZdSs/s1600/j+and+m+at+dam.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjR1ZrxgMnmfTouMoOBLe-ArOSvwThdezPcnczsl2npRZnV4XnsmurXb-99U52xhC9f0jqfjXy1YgqYPUauds47u2gV6-5Q2ydDy14AILhT993V-Klq3xOb0oxcaDeMBz0NgwllHQ1ZdSs/s320/j+and+m+at+dam.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">M and J with boys in left top</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
The real treat comes when we go on a hike with their two
dogs.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We walk towards some dams that
have been built to help with water issues and which has been completely neglected
by the government.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Five years ago, Piet
and Anike got together with others in the area to clean up the dam and
surrounding park.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Today, it is
gorgeous!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They’ve worked so hard at
clearing paths, at creating spaces for bar-b-q’s and picnics, at planting aloe
gardens and magical-looking cacti gardens.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>We roam around, enjoying our surroundings and quiet.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
We return to their home for a snack of samosas (I looooove
them!) and juice before we head back to our home where pancakes (thin, large
pancakes with a drizzle of lemon from the lemon tree out back, cinnamon and
sugar) and waiting for us at the Stambolie home.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>All 13 of us sit around a makeshift large
table and we enjoy more good conversation and food in an easy atmosphere that is
welcoming and warm. Ah!!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s good to
feel at home.<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<strong>July 9, 2012<o:p></o:p></strong></div>
<o:p> </o:p><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirhGQ-Ke_20QUiLGW6FTVw39INsvSiOWEPuytSxA07_u90VG3t5mbnf0diUujAwyHdNTEKZS3vbCgZpg8Zr0P757eZxcTI1euLLHRlF6EiwD1Xz4k5kMb2uUW8ipHeEwgFgDXuIPoKxX8/s1600/hands.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirhGQ-Ke_20QUiLGW6FTVw39INsvSiOWEPuytSxA07_u90VG3t5mbnf0diUujAwyHdNTEKZS3vbCgZpg8Zr0P757eZxcTI1euLLHRlF6EiwD1Xz4k5kMb2uUW8ipHeEwgFgDXuIPoKxX8/s320/hands.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
The kids and I pile into Q’s truck, ready for another goat
distribution.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This one is also thanks to
One Day’s Wages, who gave us a nice grant.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>We pull up to the dry, dry village and there, waiting for us as usual,
is a small group of grannies.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They pose
for photos while the goats are brought to a small pen where it will be easy to
corral them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Q and I fall into our usual
roles and quickly, we are done with vaccinating and tagging the goats.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKGreuOGEbqXbVd5jZ8hAfjbkHj1oqw0St28sLXEJwxPuoxhJj0vvsyHlOoQBtFwtQ5HLnxKP20XrrP4FIn2ma-DPwXxCxRDrrkD1Ntn_S8OKUwGO02LrwW4hTTJpoKAgDlfeSVBXUeCg/s1600/momo+and+baby+9.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKGreuOGEbqXbVd5jZ8hAfjbkHj1oqw0St28sLXEJwxPuoxhJj0vvsyHlOoQBtFwtQ5HLnxKP20XrrP4FIn2ma-DPwXxCxRDrrkD1Ntn_S8OKUwGO02LrwW4hTTJpoKAgDlfeSVBXUeCg/s320/momo+and+baby+9.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Morgan falls in love with little one</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
I look out to see what the kids are doing and there is
Morgan, holding a cute little girl.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They,
along with Juju, are communicating somehow, even though the little one doesn’t
speak English and Morgan and Juju don’t speak N’debele.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> They help write some signs I need for a future video and do it together, the four. The little girl does not let go of Morgan, who is just happy to hold her and make her smile. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<br /></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgm_Zcst-ZJETRqz0T-S9ERAcp4eWozKw6FLjt6Nius1L0si4jk92mwPtfCIW1IkNDb6vlwXnNnNm8wbPVLNvaOda3KcLOWAeGsDRlrhjbSMaNtSHPyJYgWI1BTCcXCCv20DfpLcSg37-I/s1600/african+boy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgm_Zcst-ZJETRqz0T-S9ERAcp4eWozKw6FLjt6Nius1L0si4jk92mwPtfCIW1IkNDb6vlwXnNnNm8wbPVLNvaOda3KcLOWAeGsDRlrhjbSMaNtSHPyJYgWI1BTCcXCCv20DfpLcSg37-I/s320/african+boy.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">African Boy</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
Aiden is inside a hut, watching lunch being
cooked and chatting away to the lady cooking.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>His eyes are watering from all the smoke that can’t escape the round
hut, but he refuses to leave.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When the
lady leaves to fetch some water, Aiden is right on her heels, asking questions
and pointing things out to her.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She answers
him in N’debele and they seem to get along really well, even without a common language.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
When they are done making lunch, Aiden is happy to play outside with a stick. He is a hero, a champion, a soldier, Lightning MacQueen. </div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiV8iCI7hkQ9JxAgFd_02Z9jJ4S_NXTs8DxiAbiA0dap44QlHcLp4nrPvGGpszTOjriZTyOUwunY4p4tT0acoYd4aLaHPSClX5nnyjghV9haiEhfuAWYr3bCK7b_KfPW8B8XckXI44bxc0/s1600/j+and+momo+9.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiV8iCI7hkQ9JxAgFd_02Z9jJ4S_NXTs8DxiAbiA0dap44QlHcLp4nrPvGGpszTOjriZTyOUwunY4p4tT0acoYd4aLaHPSClX5nnyjghV9haiEhfuAWYr3bCK7b_KfPW8B8XckXI44bxc0/s320/j+and+momo+9.jpg" width="214" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
The girls play with the little one until it is time to eat lunch. Juju loves the sadzsa and Morgan and I struggle to get the chicken meat off the bone. We start by gently trying, then we get a bit more forceful. Soon, it is a challenge and we are not about to give up easily. We put our plates on our laps and dig our fingers into the place where meat meets bone. We tug, we pull, we cajole. We CANNOT free the meat! It is quite amazing! When I finally, finally get a bit off, I give it to Aiden, who happily chews on it for 3-4 minutes before it disappears. By then, I've been able to get some more pieces off. It is quite comical and Morgan and I laugh at our inability to eat neatly, with one hand, like everyone around us does.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
I love how these three kids are getting along out here with
everyone.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They are gracious, shaking
hands when appropriate, smiling at everyone, eating what is put in front of
them, thanking people kindly, and saying goodbye with a big wave.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They make me proud, these three.<o:p></o:p></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10013874072055158696noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6355554104589786402.post-70577048338276615632012-07-06T20:56:00.001-07:002012-07-06T20:56:22.740-07:00Numbers<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Ever wondered just how big the global AIDS problem is? Let’s see if we can give a little quantitative scope to this planet-wide pandemic.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Right now, 34 million people are living with HIV. Most of them—22.9 million—are in Africa, the continent from which the disease originated. 9 African countries suffer from a prevalence rate greater than 10 percent. One in ten carries HIV. Of those 9 countries, 3 are especially devastated. Though South Africa has the greatest total number of victims in the world, with 5.6 million South Africans (17.8%) infected with HIV, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">24.8%</i> of Botswana’s population has the virus. Regionally, Southern Africa is the hottest hot spot, Eastern Africa (Kenya, Uganda, and Tanzania among others) are moderate by African standards (meaning still bad—6-8%), and West Africa is doing relatively well. However, certain West African countries harbor huge numbers of HIV victims, e.g. Nigeria, whose 3.3 million infectees account for 10% of the global HIV+ population. A final statistic—in Africa, women are disproportionately at risk for HIV—59% of new infections in take hold in females.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Though Africa is by far the hardest hit region of the world, HIV has reached everywhere else as well. The absolute prevalence estimate in Asia is 4.8 million people, half of them in India, and most countries’ prevalence rates are about 1%. In many cases, as in China, the HIV+ population is concentrated within a few provinces of a country. In Eastern Europe, 1.5 million people carry HIV, with Russia, Ukraine, and the Baltic States being the worst affected. The Caribbean, whose prevalence rates are higher than anywhere but Africa, averages 2%. Latin American has 1.5 million victims, most of them in Brazil due to that country’s size. Little Belize is a hotspot, with a prevalence rate of 2%. In highly developed countries (the US, Western Europe, Australia, Canada, New Zealand), a total of 2.2 million people have HIV. In these countries, information about transmission prevention is widely available, leading to generally safer sexual behavior. On the other hand, the dismissive attitude that HIV is a problem only for poorer countries sometimes leads to riskier choices.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Looking at the broader picture, as of 2011, AIDS’s total death toll was 30 million, and as 1.8 million of those casualties were lost in 2010, by now the real number of lives taken has likely grown close to 33 million. The number of HIV+ individuals who die annually is less than the number of new HIV infections yearly—meaning more and more people are living with the virus with time. In 2010, there were 50% more new infections than deaths. 2.7 million people contracted HIV; 1.8 million others died from it.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">There were 3.4 million children living with HIV in 2010, and 290,000 became infected that year. Every hour, 30 kids die from AIDS. Nine tenths of them are in Africa.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">So, yeah, it’s huge. This is a problem of historic proportions. It will require a concerted, unified movement on the part of societies, their governments, and the international community to defeat the virus and ensure the health of the world’s population. Individually, we cannot do it all. But before we get lost in the numbers, it is important to remember that we can do <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">something</i> that matters to <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">some</i> AIDS victims. We, even individually, can end the threat of HIV for some people, and it’s important that we do so. Find out how you can make a difference by exploring our main website.</span></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10013874072055158696noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6355554104589786402.post-72799605124633407072012-07-04T11:20:00.000-07:002012-07-04T11:20:45.012-07:00Chickens and TeaJuly 4, 2012<br />
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The car horn gets me moving quickly and I grab my water bottle on my way out the door. Q and I are going a couple of hours away to conduct a chicken training to a group of grandma's who are caring for orphans. Along the way, we talk about many things: the role of women in Zimbabwean society, life during the colonial days, what sort of foods are eaten here which I haven't had yet (worms, field mice, etc), Hwange National Park, Victoria Falls, the price of food and how it is changing the face of poverty, Lassie, scary-looking dogs, etc, etc. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqORfl0V53Cs7Aa2aw83I2ai65wQ6zKn_ZEsnLdPs3A66nmYkLLdTvSeSD-JbSy1gEycbY4xSb4oV_jPFxBO0xj7eSUckjwFnGb84_SAsetxpJY8gjPXN5HJFkq1udFANYL7EnslIj1Uk/s1600/josphine+and+chickens.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqORfl0V53Cs7Aa2aw83I2ai65wQ6zKn_ZEsnLdPs3A66nmYkLLdTvSeSD-JbSy1gEycbY4xSb4oV_jPFxBO0xj7eSUckjwFnGb84_SAsetxpJY8gjPXN5HJFkq1udFANYL7EnslIj1Uk/s320/josphine+and+chickens.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Josphine</td></tr>
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We sit under an avocado tree on hand hewn benches, surrounded by grandmas who are ready to learn about chickens and their care. While we wait for more grandmas to arrive, I interview the ones there in order to get their stories down. I meet one grandma whose name is my own grandmother's, the grandma of my heart. I tell her that my grandma is Josphine, too, but that we pronounce it differently because my grandma is from Colombia. She tries out my "Josefina" on her tongue and finds it tastes just as good as her "Josphine". She repeats it to herself a couple of times, as if to remember it for later.<br />
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They seem shy but are willing to answer my questions, which helps me understand their lives just a tiny bit. The daughter who've died, leaving them with grandbabies to raise. The sons who've pass on. The husbands who are no more. Somehow, these women have survived tragedy after tragedy, holding on to a thin veil of hope, believing that despite everything, their grandchildren will do better than they did. I ask them what the gift of five chickens means to them.<br />
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School fees.<br />
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Food.<br />
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Soap.<br />
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A future.<br />
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A new blanket.<br />
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I take them on a journey of possibilites and we work on numbers. We determine that at the worst case scenario, they will each have 35-40 chickens by the end of the year (after eating some eggs and losing some chicks to predators or illness). One woman squints her eyes and says in N'debele, "We will be rich". Her voice is soft, her poise calm, her tone straight forward. She shows no external excitement. In fact, she looks a bit wary, a bit careful as she utters those words. Once translated, I look at her square in the eyes and say "That is the point". It seems that no translation is necessary because as the words come out of my mouth and I gesture that this is what we want for them, they all break out in smiles and laughter. It seems that they were afraid to point out what could possibly be true - that in one year, they might be richer than they ever thought they'd be. That in a year's time, they might have 35 chickens to call their own, some to be sold, some to be eaten and some to be kept as layers. Once the realization hits that this is where their children's future might lay, they are eager to know what to do, what the contract demands of them and of us, how to build the best house for their chickens, and how to do record keeping.<br />
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Once I am done with the contract and record keeping portion of the workshop, my part in the training is done and I head off in search of wood. A woman joins me and helps me build a small fire on the opposite side of the small, weather beaten church, while two adolescent girls go to a river for water. The walk is long and in the time they go and come back, the fire is ready, almost out, revived again. I've managed to make 50+ butter and jam sandwiches while squatting on the hot ground. They are stacked in tall columns, these sandwiches, as tasty as I could make them with the two ingredients we have. Q had purchased the bread, butter, jam, tea, milk, and sugar on our way to the training and I was incredulous at the amount of bread. In his quiet manner, Q tells me that rural Africans eat as much as they can when food is available because they never know when they will eat again. He assures me the sandwiches will be gone at tea time. <br />
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The workshop ends at the same time as I round the corner of the church building with a pan in one hand and a small pitcher of water in the other. Old women with beautiful black, wrinkled, hard-working, sometimes arthritic, hands are surprised that a white woman is offering to wash their hands. They laugh shyly and hold out their hands over the pan as a thin stream of water gets poured on them. They scrub and I pour a bit more. Down the line I go until we are done and can go into the church where four more benches, a large pot of tea, and more than fifty sandwiches wait for us.<br />
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Q is right. There is no food left by the time he and I head out the door. <br />
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A pair of those beautiful old hands grabs one of mine as I say good-bye and she kisses it. I am undone. I hug her tightly and she says against my neck one, two, three times - "thank you. thank you. thank you". I say "thank you" back because the gift is mine.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10013874072055158696noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6355554104589786402.post-84892601733010302132012-06-29T12:02:00.001-07:002012-06-29T12:07:52.332-07:00On the Road AgainJune 29, 2012 - Mahwanke, Zimbabwe<br />
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While Juju convinces Aiden that she can carry him like African women carry their babies, I prepare for a day in the field:<br />
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Water bottle. <br />
Snack. <br />
Sunglasses. <br />
Paper and pen.<br />
Camera.<br />
Toilet paper<br />
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I am on the road again.<br />
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This time, I am on my way to Mahwanke with Shungu (monitoring and evaluation guy) and Q to distribute 32 goats to some elderly Go-gos (grandmothers) in the middle of nowhere. We talk easily as now-familiar scenery flashes by the side windows of the car. I don't lift up my camera when a troop of baboons cross my path or when impala jump in front of the car startling the three of us. Now, if a rhino or a giraffe were to make their presence known, I'll be all over that!<br />
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As we drive, we talk easily about ideas, about development, about hunger, about food security, about goats, rabbits, and chickes. Shungu tells me that what AFCA does here is life-changing. He is passionate as he tells me of the goat babies born in programs we've supported in the past and how the children are getting plumper due to good milk. He is so excited to monitor the activity of various sites because he sees real change. Of all people, he should know. He has worked all around the country and can easily tell you where villages are located, where the driest areas are, where the biggest hunger lurks. He will also tell you with a broad smile about the places where hope lives and where grandmas dance at the birth of a new baby goat. <br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Go-go Judith</td></tr>
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After what seems like half the day, we arrive dusty and a bit parched. It is a hovel of round huts, a space where dust and greenish-brown skinny trees meet under an intense blue sky. There, waiting for us, are the grandmas. They shake my hand in the funny three-part African handshake and some hug me. Introductions are made and short speeches are called for. It is obvious, though, that no one came for speeches. They came for GOATS and we are going to give them some!<br />
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Now accustomed to the routine, I write out ear tags and hand them out to each woman as Q explains the details of what we'll be doing in the beautiful clicking sounds of N'debele. They clap and smile, eager to get the party going. Beautiful, colorful head coverings stand out against the blue of the sky and the heads bob up and down as they nod in agreement to Q's words.<br />
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Q readies the syringe and I get the tagging gun ready. With a quick nod, goat by goat are brought out of the pen, are vaccinated, tagged and handed to the Go-gos. <br />
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Go-go Judith is about 90 years old and she breaks out in a dance of joy right there, in front of us, missing teeth and all. She is about six inches shorter than me (imagine that!) and dances ferociously. Her feet work up a pattern in the sand and dust. She grabs my hand and says "thank you" with such intensity that the sky cannot compete with her smile. She is radiant. <br />
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She is all any donor would ever need to see to feel that their work is valuable. Please understand that you are a hero to many in a dusty land far from your own. <br />
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You are a hero to me. <br />
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More importantly, you are a hero to Go-go Judith and the children she is raising as her own.<br />
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10013874072055158696noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6355554104589786402.post-14792148110418398822012-06-28T21:20:00.000-07:002012-06-29T12:03:16.615-07:00Stigma<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">One of the worst things about AIDS is that it’s not just a disease. It’s not just a biological phenomenon. It’s a degrading status symbol. Around the world, AIDS is associated with degenerate morality and shame. Once you have it, it becomes an unwanted social marker if you tell and a death sentence if you don’t—and all too often, it is both. The phrase ‘insult to injury’ could never has been more apt. HIV comes with a terrible weight on the victim’s shoulders—not just because knowing that something lethal lives inside you puts an ominous feeling in the pit of your stomach, but because you now have a humiliating social burden to carry as well.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">It’s not hard to figure out why HIV and AIDS have a stigma associated with them. When HIV/AIDS first appeared in humans in the mid-1980s, the infected population was primarily composed of marginalized groups—sex workers, intravenous drug users, and homosexuals. In many cultures, each of these groups is associated (some unjustly) with immorality, and this association transferred to the virus. Even in America, upon hearing the world “AIDS,” the listener will often think “homosexual,” “immorality,” or “dirty.” Moreover, the primary mode of transmission is sex—and the more partners you have the greater your chances of contracting HIV. Needless to say, the moral connotation of AIDS is nearly invariably negative. Additionally, in rural areas of developing countries, indigenous beliefs and religions may regard AIDS as the result of sin or spiritual malaise, sharpening the social division HIV can lead to.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">The irony is that the marginalized groups among whom AIDS initially spread are now responsible for a small percentage of HIV transmission, at least internationally. In Southern Africa, in countries such as Zimbabwe where we work, HIV/AIDS is a problem that entire societies face. But whether these societies are willing to face it depends on their ability to accept the stigma it carries. Sometimes, entire communities will baldly deny the presence or at least the pervasiveness of HIV. And that denial is deadly, because where available, testing means treatment, and treatment means unnecessary deaths are avoided.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">So AIDS means so much more than physical pain. AIDS means ostracism. AIDS means humiliation. AIDS means secrets. AIDS means stigma. And it’s really, really terrible. You’d think at least that kids would escape the social wounds of AIDS, but in many places, they don’t. Even though all children who have HIV were either born with it or had it breastfed to them, that is, no choice of theirs led to their infection, many children with HIV or AIDS face discrimination and neglect because of their condition. Sometimes, HIV+ kids who were also orphaned by AIDS have no caretaker because no one is willing to take on a tainted child. And that is not okay.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">The world must begin to see AIDS victims as God’s children, as sisters and brothers whom we are to suffer with, care for, and lift up. They are not tainted, they do not deserve ostracism; they are cherished and deserve love and care. The AFCA strives to provide that love and care, and YOU can be a part of that effort. Visit the main website to learn more.</span></div>
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<br /></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10013874072055158696noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6355554104589786402.post-1062456587343721802012-06-28T04:53:00.001-07:002012-06-28T04:53:50.937-07:00Water, water - not everywhereJune 28, 2012 - Bulawayo, Zimbabwe<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgijiqXqAY7Dgbkq0H9V7yfEJdDiL5evI_e6FU3ctl2FvbWUVIQPnDPxj8V6v7KMzZ16RVeuuhI3BltpMlYL028ZSfh4sJtwechCKk4qmzf0CNQ-4zzgGExJU9IEjg3iRXstnniinDDR3E/s1600/cows+in+riverbed.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgijiqXqAY7Dgbkq0H9V7yfEJdDiL5evI_e6FU3ctl2FvbWUVIQPnDPxj8V6v7KMzZ16RVeuuhI3BltpMlYL028ZSfh4sJtwechCKk4qmzf0CNQ-4zzgGExJU9IEjg3iRXstnniinDDR3E/s320/cows+in+riverbed.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cows in Riverbed</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Water is such an immense issue, isn't it? Where I am right this instant, in Bulawayo, water is scarse. Not as scarse as outside of the city, though, where we drive by countless dry riverbeds, all full of sand and the hoofprints of horses and the footprints of other animals. I don't know where animals and people go to find water, but am told it can be 20 kilometers for a person to get water. When they arrive at the water hole, the creek bed, the borehole, the well, they take time to get their water and then, they have 20 kilometers to get back home - this time carrying a 60 - 70lb jug of water on their head. This is HOURS from a person's day. HOURS of walking under the hot sun in search of something that we Americans take for granted.<br />
<br />
Animals survive more from the liquid they get from leaves and stems they chew on, even though these, too, are shriveled and brown. It is amazing to me to see how the local goats have adapted to life without much water, looking plump and healthy, even though they might not actually drink water but once a day, if that. Imagine how much more milk they'd produce if they had actual water to drink? This topic has been occupying my time these past two days, taking me to meetings with dam builders and borehole diggers. If we can find a partner to help us in this particular area in the villages where we work, life would be much sweeter for many. I keep plodding forward, researching, calling, writing, visiting, pestering, begging, and pleading. Someone, somewhere will answer. I am sure of it. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxEv69GMi-RHETGOL0IRvqBW8v95cZ_r5OiLBf0jelu2JESLsaspTO3_ILuO8k8WHBWteZPagjQf-uZTKTZGaQVcvBKo7ZfawHSGGuIU14dXmVqs_qHqZoy4AVu903tjlgOnylrdOCA2w/s1600/bathroom.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxEv69GMi-RHETGOL0IRvqBW8v95cZ_r5OiLBf0jelu2JESLsaspTO3_ILuO8k8WHBWteZPagjQf-uZTKTZGaQVcvBKo7ZfawHSGGuIU14dXmVqs_qHqZoy4AVu903tjlgOnylrdOCA2w/s320/bathroom.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bathoom in middle of no where</td></tr>
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I don't know how many times we leave the water running while washing dishes. The water running so it gets hot enough for us to enjoy a shower. The water running while we reach for a toddler who needs his hands cleaned.<br />
<br />
After two weeks of very controlled water supplies, I've learned to bathe both Aiden and Julia using the water from one stardard size bucket. I can wash completely, hair and all, with less than half a bucket, reserving the other half to flush the toilet when the water is off. Will we remember to be this careful when we return home and water seems to be flowing everywhere, at little expense? <br />
<br />
Another issue with water is the fact that without it, people can't grow gardens properly. With this in mind, we are starting a small pilot project to see which vegetables grow best in these conditions, with which specific type of gardening (4x4, pallet, hanging, etc) types. We are enlisting the help of ECHO, an organization in Florida, to record our findings and to access seeds suitable for drought conditions. A big part of this project will be the use of manure from goats and chickens given to orphan families and tons of mulch to keep moisture in the ground. Stay in touch to hear how this project progresses...I promise it will be interesting and we'll all learn a lot.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10013874072055158696noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6355554104589786402.post-86375982455611178992012-06-25T11:31:00.000-07:002012-06-25T11:31:00.214-07:00Where Did Two Weeks Go?June 25, 2012 - Bulawayo, Zimbabwe<br />
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikd-y7qfYIOBl4e2eKgoFqVIGniUq6PuTxi9nIgHsqbrilXc6DoZVRKkbgFdpg9OzlKIQQQfIByWI948YWq1bBRW9omYsIvA8lvtJxW9LRIk7iKRPsR7Q9Lc0NyQvzSR-qy8T6BAvuRRs/s1600/rocks2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikd-y7qfYIOBl4e2eKgoFqVIGniUq6PuTxi9nIgHsqbrilXc6DoZVRKkbgFdpg9OzlKIQQQfIByWI948YWq1bBRW9omYsIvA8lvtJxW9LRIk7iKRPsR7Q9Lc0NyQvzSR-qy8T6BAvuRRs/s200/rocks2.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Incredible Rock Formations in Matopos</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Jodi has left us and returned home. We will miss her, as she is kind, affable, knowledgeable, loving, and sweet. She also has so many talents! If she had stayed here all summer, she would not have run out of things she could teach and share with others. I do hope she will return one day soon, but this time, with Ed.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1lb0DeGvYClMWeW9osdua39eJ0HvOWaVw90msMH2gHbu6JsBGGbhyqrrrZGM-y3cLm75NhcFQQbfbkPiWIdCjxRgvyx2-svionhVt9fc5uBDtM2LIJrJZq2qGOjM_aVCmFdVYQLc4Suw/s1600/straw2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1lb0DeGvYClMWeW9osdua39eJ0HvOWaVw90msMH2gHbu6JsBGGbhyqrrrZGM-y3cLm75NhcFQQbfbkPiWIdCjxRgvyx2-svionhVt9fc5uBDtM2LIJrJZq2qGOjM_aVCmFdVYQLc4Suw/s320/straw2.jpg" width="213" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">straw used for roofing</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
This morning I meet with folks from Forgotten Voices (an NGO from PA who also work here, but in a different capacity than AFCA), introducing Q and ZOE to them. I think the meeting goes well because we are like-minded in our approach to development and in how we work. I like these folks and what they do. Hopefully, we'll be able to do something together soon. <br />
<br />
Work at the office went smoothly as I search for grants to help each of our programs. I so wish that we could raise more funds through churches and schools, rather than through grants, as these take long to research, long to write, and longer to wait for a response. But God knows what we need and if this is way we can help, then, I'll do it. I am grateful for Yasmina in South Africa who is helping me compile a list of possible grantors an for Mary who is helping with with PA company info. It is only through the work of many that a load gets lighter. The next two weeks is dedicated solely to grant-writing, with some animal distributions mixed in the middle of the research and writing days. Then, the next week, I'd like to focus on writing various companies in PA who might be interested in supporting our work. Then, at some point, we are taking a week off to visit a large game park on our way to Victoria Falls. Before you know it, our time here will be over and we'll find ourselves packing up to return home. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4S0rPYIzjC4AHWWLZ0cWmH1qryDMqkWLib2W6cA9CgxV4rksTe4WhYtXsiA7sYieCrIaHlK3ePq_WIvpGyqL0RhOCPzMOCpMdfHlgri62uw61ZX2eghe8MvgO9nKFkApSwWEpDsPffSI/s1600/rainbow+gecko2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4S0rPYIzjC4AHWWLZ0cWmH1qryDMqkWLib2W6cA9CgxV4rksTe4WhYtXsiA7sYieCrIaHlK3ePq_WIvpGyqL0RhOCPzMOCpMdfHlgri62uw61ZX2eghe8MvgO9nKFkApSwWEpDsPffSI/s320/rainbow+gecko2.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Rainbow Lizard</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
It doesn't seem possible that tomorrow, we've been here two weeks. Where has time gone? So far, we've distributed 116 goats and 84 chickens, attended church twice, washed clothes four times, consulted with two other groups on how to write grants and how to fundraise for projects, gone to a game park twice, gone to a b-b-q, seen rainbow lizards, met countless new people, gone food shopping 6 -7 times (we buy a little at a time so it stays fresh), Morgan has had one sleep over, Juju has gone out with friends to a game park, we've had four children over to play, and we've lost electricity and water half the time we've been here. What a trip it's been! <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjbSznMTXfvFUiQgNWelgImvmnTnPdRFjSyPGARoXGsZ8KGye6tVKvCgBKxtP-L0mkHo9K8MCU2wtXEK_ew_wXbHNBl6KD6MBv2aJraK0jPGtwOtIQ1n4LiLMh-Yoxt4gwQzp6STyZGXU/s1600/dont+get+out2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjbSznMTXfvFUiQgNWelgImvmnTnPdRFjSyPGARoXGsZ8KGye6tVKvCgBKxtP-L0mkHo9K8MCU2wtXEK_ew_wXbHNBl6KD6MBv2aJraK0jPGtwOtIQ1n4LiLMh-Yoxt4gwQzp6STyZGXU/s320/dont+get+out2.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
Last weekend while visiting another part of the Matopos game park, we got out of the car to look for hippos at a lake. The water table was very, very low, we everyone made it down to the area where water would normally be. Instead, we were walking on dry sand between large puddles, looking for the hippos. Suddendly, we saw a baby crocordile not too far away and while we all stared and took photos of it, it occured to me that the mama must be somewhere close by. So, we pile back in the car and drive off. Turning back, we read a sign...see it here.<br />
<br />
Oops!!<br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10013874072055158696noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6355554104589786402.post-4072232475734266082012-06-23T05:46:00.001-07:002012-06-23T05:46:58.495-07:00My Heart is WarmToday is gorgeous. It is just me and the young ones - Aiden and Juju. Morgan is out with friends for a sleepover and Eric and Jodi are at another training. I have cleaned, washed clothes, fed four kids, played with the same kids, made potato salad for a bar-b-q we've been invited to tonight, caught up on some emails, and overall, had a busy morning. <br />
<br />
One thing that makes today gorgeous is that face that we have two little friends over - Jonathan is four and Anesu is eight. They belong to my friends Sugu and KC (I can't pronounce his given name) and their parents had something to do today, so they came to me. Having never met them, I wondered how things would go, as they are here all day long. I shouldn't have wondered.<br />
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The minute (THE MINUTE) they arrive, Aiden takes Jonathan by the hand and they scamper off to look for frogs and to play with dirt and cars. No need for introductions when you've found a friend, it seems. Juju and Anesu hit if off just as quickly and have spent a large part of the day playing with a plastic set of kitchen play dishes the Stambolies lent us, feeding me leaves, mud and berry juice. <br />
<br />
The thing that definitely makes the day gorgeous is hearing Juju and Anesu giggling and talking. I heard this:<br />
<br />
Juju: "we could be twins, you know."<br />
Anesu: "oh, i know! my mom said your family is pink, but iI think you are peach-colored."<br />
Juju: "even though I am peach-colored, we still are just alike, don't you think?"<br />
Anesu: "definitely. I think we must share a birthday because we really could be twins"<br />
<br />
They build a fort in the loft and I hear them practicing jokes on each other. They laugh uproarisouly at the silliest jokes. They complain of their brothers but decide they should keep them. They read together. They go back outside to cook another meal, but now their names are Elizabeth and Rosie, the twin cooks. They decided that their birthday is April 13 (Anesu was born in April and Juju was born on a 13th day).<br />
<br />
Jonathan thinks it is hilarious that I call him "buddy" and he laughs each time I say that. Aiden tells him that "buddy" means "friend" and Jonathan giggles more. Those two boys eat more than the girls and they play harder and faster. They gave up finding frogs and moved on to hockey.<br />
<br />
I have let Morgan take my camera with her, otherwise, I'd be posting photos of the four new friends. I envision many days of them playing together and I like what I see.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10013874072055158696noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6355554104589786402.post-38563554110713111792012-06-22T13:10:00.002-07:002012-06-22T13:10:52.626-07:00First Eric, Then Tanya<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><strong>June 21 - Mayezane, Zimbabwe</strong></span><br />
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<o:p><span style="color: purple; font-family: Calibri;"><strong> From Eric Weaver</strong></span></o:p></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigLqZdBb50e5fFUvzlsaqxuq7SlPzrrx7RVeRzODGGlLXFBlyFshALbYBLhqWZ3fmPZR4hOuJdgerOMHGKygt4r9F8CkMMPHMrKVJfAcKbTu4hCLYBhS_3qdIhQku_bd-_A6t1TbDOEG8/s1600/jodi+teaching.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigLqZdBb50e5fFUvzlsaqxuq7SlPzrrx7RVeRzODGGlLXFBlyFshALbYBLhqWZ3fmPZR4hOuJdgerOMHGKygt4r9F8CkMMPHMrKVJfAcKbTu4hCLYBhS_3qdIhQku_bd-_A6t1TbDOEG8/s320/jodi+teaching.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Jodi Teaching with Q</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Today Jodi, Q and I went to a workshop in Mayezane,
Zimbabwe.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Mayezane is located about 2 ½
hours outside of Bulawayo.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A third of
the trip was on paved roads but the remaining 2/3 was on sandy dirt roads through
a very arid area looking much like Nevada or southern Texas.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>(It totally amazes me how Q was able to find
this place.)<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We arrived at a small
school house where about 200 kids attend school, some of them walking up to
10 km to get there. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">This community, like many others in Zimbabwe, have been hit
hard by drought and HIV.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Many of the
women in attendance are guardians of children how have been orphaned as the
result of AIDS.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The work shop today was
on how to properly take care of goats.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Jodi led this workshop for about 20 individuals, mostly women.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She talked about warning signs that an
animal is sick, checking goats for signs of parasites, as well as the many uses
that a goat can be for a family, including the use of manure for fertilizer, milk,
meat, and for some goats, the use of their wool to make yarn for rugs or
clothing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The group was definitely
interested in the what Jodi was saying, actively taking notes and asking good
questions.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUJW9UcSnK_QNOmKb9mwOxDEl_d9nx4ylw9VxVH_Vjq1WxcvKHbDzhtSchMa4hr1Fsn6O0pPYSCWJBqyG6PYsejAfp0BdwB9zZ7rToy31p40VCWP_LIeh_lZx-27WI_dTwaUFSxbroC2g/s1600/eric+teaching.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUJW9UcSnK_QNOmKb9mwOxDEl_d9nx4ylw9VxVH_Vjq1WxcvKHbDzhtSchMa4hr1Fsn6O0pPYSCWJBqyG6PYsejAfp0BdwB9zZ7rToy31p40VCWP_LIeh_lZx-27WI_dTwaUFSxbroC2g/s320/eric+teaching.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Eric and his timeline</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgbbQZ7fLf1jZ76r_gsbLW8OMv8EvghXgwFuC6k_zCvmvkfLyCvsiSLahwmXrtkULNLepY0vtepF6ncPdyCKAq7-kBJE3MeeqYWV46fsralcGHuSzwswtqBOfi8GWOslSJDDinrmMTZZ8/s1600/taking+notes.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgbbQZ7fLf1jZ76r_gsbLW8OMv8EvghXgwFuC6k_zCvmvkfLyCvsiSLahwmXrtkULNLepY0vtepF6ncPdyCKAq7-kBJE3MeeqYWV46fsralcGHuSzwswtqBOfi8GWOslSJDDinrmMTZZ8/s320/taking+notes.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Taking Notes</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">After Jodi had finished there was some extra time before
lunch was served to the group and I did a small timeline with the community,
looking at major events in the life of the community.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The oldest individual that attended the
workshop was born in Mayezane in 1921.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Taking this as our starting point, we looked at what years were good
years and what years there was drought and parasites or other challenges.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Each of these time periods were marked on the
chalk board.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As these events were marked
out, one could definitely notice a cycle which includes years of drought and
good years (with more droughts in recent years).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Using this information, we discussed how as a
community they could grow stronger and be better prepared for the drought
years.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The community brought up the use
of dams, drilling of boreholes so as to have a better water supply, better
farming techniques such as conservation farming was also discussed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Dams would be a major expense, borehole wells
are expensive but may be more affordable if the community comes together to pitch
in, while a change of farming techniques would be low cost and very doable.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Each of these alone do not provide a total
solution, but the combination of a borehole and new farming principles would
make a positive difference.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The idea of this
exercise was to recognize that there are cycles and that things are changing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The community as a whole and as individuals
need<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>to take steps to change and adapt
so that they are less affected by the changing climate.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">After<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>a lunch of
sadsza (a corn based thick porridge), a fried chicken leg and a little bit of green
stuff we hit the road back to Bulawayo.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>On the way back we stopped at another village and were informed that
AFCA chickens were on their way to be distributed (we thought they were coming next
week).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The chickens weren’t there yet so
we continued on. We didn’t get more than a half hour down the road and when we saw a
pickup truck coming down the road with a cage full of chickens on the
back.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We turned around and headed back to
distribute them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There were 85
chickens to be distributed with each family receiving 5 chickens (4 hens and 1
rooster).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The idea is that in a years
time the family will give 5 offspring<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>back to ZOE who will redistribute them to another family who are
guardians of orphaned children due to HIV.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>These chickens will provide valuable protein through meat and eggs they
produce.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
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<span id="goog_1118042093"></span><span id="goog_1118042094"></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">We left the chicken distribution and headed back home
arriving after 6.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A long day but filled
with joy of having been able to take part in the work of AFCA and ZOE as they
seek to help those orphaned by AIDS.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span><o:p><strong><span style="color: purple;">From Tanya</span></strong> </o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><o:p>The kids and I stay at home today, cleaning and preparing food, knowing we will loose electricity and water by noon. I crack down by nine in the morning and work furiously on my computer, cranking out letters to donors and writing updates for reports. I search for grant opportunities and try to connect with potential partners who might want to help us in our work here. Morgan is surprised at how much can get done when I am under pressure.</o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEil4KdGqu16Z7P-JEKX4cLfvv0w8t510zy-SwsND62Aw4FlRmHbx4qvkA33mro9F1kd558MdBQ1CY6v2ZzFAVo6lUddPRjIw0LPlS7ZANPvX4xWJQLpyt836aJQmE91-UZ5k3-430GTR_c/s1600/aiden+belly.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEil4KdGqu16Z7P-JEKX4cLfvv0w8t510zy-SwsND62Aw4FlRmHbx4qvkA33mro9F1kd558MdBQ1CY6v2ZzFAVo6lUddPRjIw0LPlS7ZANPvX4xWJQLpyt836aJQmE91-UZ5k3-430GTR_c/s320/aiden+belly.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><o:p>The kids take a bunch of silly photos and then they, too, get serious and do some schoolwork. I am pretty strict with them keeping up with some reading and writing and math. Morgan is working on some algebra that boggles the mind. I sure hope she doesn't need any help from me because, sadly, I am not able to do the stuff she is doing. I just pat her on the back and encourge her to keep going. Our host, Helene, said she can help if needed, so I am grateful for that.</o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><o:p>After lunch, Morgan and I go downtown to check out the shops and to get our bearings. Helene takes us and introduces us to Mohammad (the pharmacist), Paddy (the green grocer), Shorty (the photocopy man), to the avocado man, the tangerine man, to Costs (the baker), and to a bunch of other people who all know and love her. It is a neat place, this Bulawayo! </o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><o:p>The kids stay at home, playing with the Stambolie kids, having a blast. They find a red frog and chase each other with it, squealing and laughing. They run through the garden, get dirty and tired. By the time I get home, it is time to put them into the bathtub because they look like street urchins. Then, I try my hand at homemade tortillas, using mealiemeal, which is the only corn meal we can find here. They come out pretty good and we create a pseudo-mexian meal with the "tortillas", beans and sausage I had cooked up before, grated cheese, greek yogurt (instead of sour cream), and home made guacamole from the avocados we purchased in town. We eat voraciously when Jodi and Eric return from their training and share with John and Helene. They rave about the mexican food and I laugh, telling them that it is more like a mexican dream, not the reality. They love it, though, so we leave it at that. </o:p></span></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10013874072055158696noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6355554104589786402.post-53662577527445054092012-06-21T20:40:00.003-07:002012-06-21T20:40:24.642-07:00Injustice In the Price System for Second Generation AIDS Drugs<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Around the turn of the century, a wave of activism combined with the generic production of AIDS-combating drugs significantly lowered the price of first-line treatment for HIV. Now, because the price of a standard antiretroviral (ARV) regimen hovers around $160 per person per year, the majority of AIDS victims around the world have access to this baseline version of ARV. This is an amazing reduction from the $10,000-15,000 range of the late 1990s. However, even the lowered price is prohibitively expensive for many developing countries, and unfortunately, international trade law still prevents a straightforward price reduction of ALL types of ARV. </span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Second-line ARV drugs, developed after the less sophisticated first-line medications, have less potential for toxic side-effects and will defeat strains of HIV that have become immune to baseline ARV. Though they are less critical than first-line ARV, they are needed in the fight against AIDS for those victims for whom first-line treatment won’t work. The WTO’s 1994 Agreement on Trade-Related Aspects of International Property Rights (TRIPS) granted protection to all antiretroviral medications for twenty years after they are patented. The first-line medications’ protections have already expired, and even before they had, foreign companies and governments had broken the rules of TRIPS and produced generic first-line ARV.</span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">The better performing, second-line drugs don’t have the same protection, causing a great disparity between the price of baseline and second-line ARV. The days of $10,000-yr ARV are over, but because under TRIPS patents still protect the later medications, a second-line regimen costs $550 per year in low-income countries. The price is only this low because the international wave of advocacy which accompanied the production of generic first-line medication in the early 2000s induced the major pharmaceutical giants to operate with a tiered price system—that is, it offers prices to countries on the basis of per capita income. Drugs are cheaper in poor countries than in rich countries, but not cheap enough to be affordable. Considering that a billion people around the world earn less than a dollar a day, and that HIV is concentrated among these people, pricing drugs at $550 is little different from a death sentence for thousands of HIV+ poor people for whom first-line ARV doesn’t work. Considering also that middle-income countries with vast income inequality, such as India, China, and most importantly South Africa, must pay an even higher price, the poor in those countries are even less able to receive second-line treatment.</span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Governments can legally issue compulsory licenses domestically for generic drug production, so that a limited number of non-brand second-line ARV can be produced, but doing so comes with severe diplomatic consequences, usually from the United States. In 2007, Thailand allowed the generic production of pharmaceutical giant Abbott’s brand medicine Kaletra, a second-line ARV drug. The US retaliated by placing Thailand on the “priority watch list” for trade, and Abbott removed seven other very valuable ARV products from Thailand. This was detrimental to Thailand’s national health and economy, but the country’s bravery did lower the price of this particular type of second-line ARV for the rest of the world. </span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Much more international advocacy is needed to give all variations of ARV a just price. All people deserve proper treatment for their medical conditions. For more details about the history of antiretroviral drugs, read the a fuller account at </span><a href="http://www.avert.org/generic.htm"><span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">http://www.avert.org/generic.htm</span></a><span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">. And find out more about how you can help on the AFCA website!</span></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10013874072055158696noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6355554104589786402.post-81607746777268853742012-06-19T11:30:00.001-07:002012-06-19T11:30:37.339-07:00Masvingo Boundtran
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">June 19, 2012 –
Masvingo, Zimbabwe<o:p></o:p></span></b><br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_p5d7ohHS2gVwuu-Jv8bb5inmX2ngjdTGuGtLiFC4sDkb2mKRXEFlGqeemfdv70KBgSETOOX9a09lQswYeMyIwqJc3rsIzmwEN3HmIXPgwT1e14JVgOJdAHOHDZNvxHOa7oqjZFeIqtA/s1600/juju+eyes.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_p5d7ohHS2gVwuu-Jv8bb5inmX2ngjdTGuGtLiFC4sDkb2mKRXEFlGqeemfdv70KBgSETOOX9a09lQswYeMyIwqJc3rsIzmwEN3HmIXPgwT1e14JVgOJdAHOHDZNvxHOa7oqjZFeIqtA/s320/juju+eyes.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Juju's lemon eyes</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">The morning starts at 5:30am, getting ready for a new
adventure to give out sixty goats to children and their guardians.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We pluck the kids out of bed while it is
still dark and join Ncube, who is driving us.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Boiled eggs, peanut butter sandwiches and water accompany us for the
long trip ahead.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Eric, Ncube and I are
in charge of delivering, vaccinating and tagging the goats and I can’t wait.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">We arrive at a dusty, dry, forlorn, tiny grouping of houses
and hear signing in the distance. Up ahead just a little bit, we see colorful
figures swaying and dancing as they sing a welcome song to our little truck as
we whip up dust all around us.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Before I know
it, I am swaddled in hugs and kisses and pats and “welcomes!”.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It is a beautiful welcome and I am so happy
my family is with me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Eric has not seen
a distribution of goats before and I am excited for him to see this joyous
welcome and to see the joy that is to come.</span></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSUn9UeqagxJBh3VOwCgPEF0FHVccjOSEMCwnYB3g8uo5HvpkeWRtbYNefl9SW7-x-iLGV9FzaLoenQB_VfpLjS5mAhU5K3UaCV4QXgI-O394cyOfKnjagprwKgBiSiPrRUYNBHvQbIpM/s1600/aiden+drumming.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSUn9UeqagxJBh3VOwCgPEF0FHVccjOSEMCwnYB3g8uo5HvpkeWRtbYNefl9SW7-x-iLGV9FzaLoenQB_VfpLjS5mAhU5K3UaCV4QXgI-O394cyOfKnjagprwKgBiSiPrRUYNBHvQbIpM/s320/aiden+drumming.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Aiden drumming</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">We are ushered into a tiny church, complete with four
hand-hewn benches and a small table on the front.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There, more singing washes over us, with
clapping added in and the beating of drums.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Aiden boldly walks up to one of the drums and adds his piece alongside
the drummer.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He concentrates on what he
is doing and enjoys every minute of it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>After
a short speech from the village goat project coordinator, we hand out the ear
tags to each guardian in preparation for the distribution.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We traipse back outdoors into the dust in
order to meet the goats and more singing follows and envelopes us.</span></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLk7T24OwCHiWKrb_U7KxWsalcqWjQ5x6cTfs29Shu9zzs2_C0Cu14YELRh3GsxWwCjGacFLBYRzkmzGgH5NyXYGxqnt4jArNvH3p3l6iTMWyH9nMLfvKG0SAIrYGA0aMY7JNiEncHqEI/s1600/eric+tagging.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLk7T24OwCHiWKrb_U7KxWsalcqWjQ5x6cTfs29Shu9zzs2_C0Cu14YELRh3GsxWwCjGacFLBYRzkmzGgH5NyXYGxqnt4jArNvH3p3l6iTMWyH9nMLfvKG0SAIrYGA0aMY7JNiEncHqEI/s320/eric+tagging.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Eric tagging ears</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">A para-vet does the vaccinations while Eric and then, I, do
the tagging of the ears.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This group is incredibly
organized and we are done with the tagging in no time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Contracts are signed and we are invited back
to the little church for a lunch of rice, sadza and some yummy sauce.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We eat with our hands and quickly get full as
the sadza hits our bellies.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It is so sweet
to sit with these brothers and sisters who are so grateful for the goats given
to them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When I tell them that I’ve
prayed for them and won’t stop doing so, they clap and smile.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I love their huge smiles!</span></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgslu7yBMYIYbqI2Y13JOLfZ5mPeZWMfv4Ph6fLb_iZThJNPPd2XP248G0ruY3Q9m79s1G5NKTvQs67inqcpddge40QBDJFcyaZe3BweH8h0lntlNedbhxUpG-TnMp22A3Jjh_Nb253GE0/s1600/girls+and+a+tree.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgslu7yBMYIYbqI2Y13JOLfZ5mPeZWMfv4Ph6fLb_iZThJNPPd2XP248G0ruY3Q9m79s1G5NKTvQs67inqcpddge40QBDJFcyaZe3BweH8h0lntlNedbhxUpG-TnMp22A3Jjh_Nb253GE0/s320/girls+and+a+tree.jpg" width="214" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Juju and Morgan</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">One thing they repeat over and over again, in different
ways, is their gratitude for the porridge AFCA sent in the past.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They are hungry and they miss it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Their children walk 20 kilometers to school
(each way) and it is hard for them to do this with no food in their
bellies.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They can’t concentrate and they
fall sick often.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The porridge was a life-saver,
they say.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They even act out a drama
about the porridge and how it helps them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I tell them I’ll try to get them more, but I can’t promise.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I don’t know if I can provide it or if it is
even available for me to send.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Shipping
costs are extraordinary.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Yet, I, like
them, pray for a miracle and hold on to hope that we will be able to send
porridge once again.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNhhFHzgNWIbTmkb8dUk8uKc7UBs5OdFbLaq6bMneZOvQfVGRfH5F67dhCqq2PqzFxzkPqYUCJ_S7y42Cwf-ygpfDCxUBzSynk6TlULtiB9hKaarsRRTMqIwS7-fBuYhIHxWlV1FEEMNM/s1600/aiden+learning.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNhhFHzgNWIbTmkb8dUk8uKc7UBs5OdFbLaq6bMneZOvQfVGRfH5F67dhCqq2PqzFxzkPqYUCJ_S7y42Cwf-ygpfDCxUBzSynk6TlULtiB9hKaarsRRTMqIwS7-fBuYhIHxWlV1FEEMNM/s320/aiden+learning.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Aiden learning</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I am so proud of my children and of Morgan!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They integrate so well with all the folks we
meet.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They share stories. They eat the
food given to them. They smile, they clap, they sway to the music.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Aiden is so curious – he leans into the man
who holds the goats while they are tagged because he doesn’t want to miss
anything.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Everyone is patient with him
and they give him room and allow his little eyes to see all they want to see. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As I turn around after tagging a goat, I spy
Juju telling a young lady a story of some sort.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>The girl is laughing and Juju is in her glory.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They swap stories and I turn back to tag
another goat.</span><br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2jIrO8pF1cVL-r1w5TxjrQgHqmpUlob_IE6zTPp6Zs4vGtPuWkLDwGCWYpzgBAUUkH6vprI4hzr-JGkucdq3A1gNgCDp-KOkXuBQXw67xUdix1xCnPcnm6OBBMwKd-dacXEwcAfobqVw/s1600/jodi.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2jIrO8pF1cVL-r1w5TxjrQgHqmpUlob_IE6zTPp6Zs4vGtPuWkLDwGCWYpzgBAUUkH6vprI4hzr-JGkucdq3A1gNgCDp-KOkXuBQXw67xUdix1xCnPcnm6OBBMwKd-dacXEwcAfobqVw/s320/jodi.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Jodi teaching and Q translating</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2SU6YAaZsbUhtiHmQFQoKChKz5FKH5mjchJuo0QiYQaGO9mfFDfdUug48-N5xSO5PVVa4rUZboDp03py59UFsFl7pLtOnfD5tmRNBvMzzH4XJ85CkVo1CJQBlYlJXLOImJY-TrhcL_m0/s1600/a+boy+and+his+goats.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2SU6YAaZsbUhtiHmQFQoKChKz5FKH5mjchJuo0QiYQaGO9mfFDfdUug48-N5xSO5PVVa4rUZboDp03py59UFsFl7pLtOnfD5tmRNBvMzzH4XJ85CkVo1CJQBlYlJXLOImJY-TrhcL_m0/s320/a+boy+and+his+goats.jpg" width="214" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">He has a future!!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Throughout the day, we think of Jodi, who is conducting a
workshop in another village, where we delivered goats last week.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She is surprised to meet not only the
families who received goats last week, but to have sixty five people show up
for the training.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Apparently, the entire
village is out to listen to Jodi!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The
talk goes really well, with Q translating and people asking many questions and
taking notes. They are hungry for knowledge and as Jodi teaches in one village,
our own folks ask for more training and workshops.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Everyone wants their goats to do well, for
their milk to help the children and the elderly, for baby goats to be born
safely and to grow up strong and well. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br /><span style="font-family: Calibri;">So do I.<o:p></o:p></span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10013874072055158696noreply@blogger.com1