One Young Lady To Remember This Women's Day

An early memory for me is the first time I saw my mum unwell. I was 5 years old and my family and I had travelled to Bosnia to support my dad’s work with humanitarian organisation, Novi Most International. The unclean water had made my mum sick and although it lasted only a few days and wasn’t serious I was very aware that something was not right and this was a feeling so alien to me at that stage in my life that I have remembered it, as clear as day, ever since. I have been blessed with a mother who has been a consistent source of strength and support to me so at my young age to see her in this vulnerable state shook me, instilled a sense of fear in me and made me feel sick with worry.

Last week I heard the tragic story of the 12 year old girl from Munsieville whose mother died of aids whilst they were sharing a bed. The girl’s father is a truck driver so is rarely at home. To add to this she has a younger brother who is now reliant on her as his caregiver. The loss of your mother at such a young age is something so heart-breakingly, soul-destroyingly tragic that I will never be able to truly relate to, let alone your mother dying as she lies beside you in bed.

As I think back to how shaken and scared I felt seeing my mum unwell my heart breaks for this little girl. The scale of my fear all those years ago cannot be compared to the emotions her young heart must be feeling right now or for the last years of her mother’s life, as she watched her gradually deteriorate - the deep sadness, the confusion, the trauma. A mother should be a source of strength, as mine has been, not a weak, shadow of a person dependant on strength from her young daughter.

That girl needs a mother; she needs comfort when she’s sad; someone to hold her hand when she’s feeling lost; someone to laugh with during the good times and cry with during the bad; she needs support and guidance through her teenage years and her adult life. She deserves a mother and now thanks to this vicious disease that has killed millions of others she doesn’t have one.

A huge problem, not just in Munsieville but across the world, is the stigma attached to this horrific disease. People witness HIV/AIDS sufferers being victimised, bullied and treated inhumanely and as a result they are often either too scared to get tested in case the result comes back positive or too embarrassed of what might be thought of them. This leads to those who need it not receiving treatment and dying prematurely. It is an ongoing challenge for Project Hope UK and The Thoughtful Path to reduce this stigma and stop premature deaths like that of this Munsieville girl’s mother.

Today is National Women’s Day here in South Africa. A day to remember the brave ladies who marched to Pretoria in 1956 to fight for their right to enter the “whites-only” areas implemented under the Apartheid regime. A day of celebration for most females in Munsieville but no doubt a reminder to this precious 12 year old girl of the one woman she can no longer have and the one woman she needs the most.

Image credit: http://www.friendsofaids.org/Stigma.html

Never Judge A Book By It's Cover: The Beauty of Munsieville

Before my visit to the country I was very aware that I would be exposed to a different way of life and a level of suffering I had never previously encountered. In the weeks prior to my arrival in South Africa I had tried my best to prepare myself for the things I would witness and how it would make me feel. Well, the first very evident lesson I learnt was that there could be no 'preparing myself' for the things I would see and the plethora of emotions I would feel for the township of Munsieville.

On my first week I was taken on a tour of the township. As we made our way through I realised the diversity of the place in terms of wealth and living conditions. On the outskirts of Munsieville I was surprised to see some reasonably large and well-kept houses as well as some smaller ones, however as we got deeper into the heart of the township we saw a very different scene indeed. Tiny one-room shacks made from rusty corrugated iron, often home to whole families; piles upon piles of rubbish at the side of the road; unhygienic and unsafe communal toilets; tiny children running around barefoot without an adult caregiver in sight.

At the end of my first week I felt shell-shocked - confused and saddened on a different level than I had felt before. My view of Munsieville was one dimensional - it was a dangerous, depressing, ugly place and no one should have to live there. Well this one dimensional view would soon change when I met the people of the community and heard their stories...

South Africa has some of the most beautiful sights on Earth...vast landscapes, buzzing cities, game parks, amazing rare animals. None of these can be found in Munsieville. To find Munsieville's beauty you have to look much deeper, past the piles of rubbish and rotting corrugated iron. It's the laughter of a child that feels safe and loved at crèche because of the sheer passion that their caregiver has for their well-being. It's the 'Mama's' (or ladies) of the community who, in their later years rather than settling into retirement like most their age, have stood up and taken action because they have faith in a brighter future for their township. It's the single mother who barely earns enough to feed herself or her children but who welcomes newly-orphaned children into her home and shares everything she has with them, purely out of love. The beauty of Munsieville isn't something you can necessarily see with your eyes, rather it's something you can't help but feel in your heart when you meet the people, hear their stories and experience the love and warmth that this community has to offer.