Spending time with the people

Finally! In almost 6 months of studying global health I finally had a lecturer with something to say. So far all I’ve “learnt” is graphs, statistics, intervention strategies…the basic things you could find in a textbook, medical journals or the WHO website. Today, however, we had a lecturer from India. He studied in UK and then worked in a rural village in India. He now heads a few projects in Mumbai, including clinics in the slums and also coordinates a master’s programme in disaster relief at a university in India.

He was talking a lot about context and how “western” solutions often try to “save” or “rescue” other low-income countries with modern solutions or medical techniques. He touched on the fact that the more medicine progresses, the more expensive it becomes and the less people can be reached. But the part I was interested in most, is when he talked about humanitarian aid. How often good intentions end up into making situations worse. He mentioned when people go in to help in a disaster relief area to, for instance, do some surgeries which resulted in eventual amputations because they had not learned the culture or studied the people. His answer for “but what if you don’t have the time to learn about the people” and he said “then don’t come.” And in my mind I thought: Amen!

It is so often that aid and humanitarian efforts to save the world result in wasted money and even sometimes in making the situation worse. It happens in all fields, not only medicine. People building pipelines to supply rural areas with water, which stop working 6 months later because no one educated them on how to maintain the pipes and where to get the material for maintenance. Another example is of a volunteer who called the Indian police to report slums where children were working, which resulted in them being sent back home, only to find them back 6 months later working in worse conditions (boarded-up windows ect) so that the police would not find the slums again.

He said “what kind of mother would send her 10 year old son kilometers away to work for almost nothing if it was not a desperate situation.” The point being, before acting, find out WHY people do what they do. Walk in their shoes. Share their meals. Use their toilets.

He mentioned that, so often, it is the “rescuer” of the giver who decides what to give, with people neglecting asking the victim what would improve their lives. I have seen this over and over in church projects, in outreaches, in medicine, where people from a high income context want to make a difference, but it has no real effect because it is not sustainable within the context. And I really feel it is time for the “victims” to have a voice. Time for the “giver” to sit up and listen to what the need is. We can learn just as much (even more) from a Mozambican child kicking a ball outside in the dust, than what we can give him.

Another thing I liked is India’s policy on not accepting aid. He quotes that “aid cripples”. Thinking of South Africa and various other countries in Africa, how aid money is spent on dictatorship, ministers building houses and buying cars and never reaches the people, this policy does start to sound very attractive. I have always been an advocate of spending time with the people, of education and sustainability, but hearing it in this context today was liberating. There is so much wrong with the world, but we do not need to sit around and wait. The poor have a voice. The minority has a voice. The suffering have a voice.

And there are people ready to answer.

So that’s my thoughts on this. There are some great people out there, with big hearts who want to dedicate their lives to helping people, but we need to make sure we are, indeed helping. Anyways, if you want to go and volunteer in India (four months minimum) in Mumbai, let me know and I can give you his details.

So, lastly, I encourage everyone to enter in a debate, to think outside the box, to spend time with people and, most of all, to listen…

All who wander

Today I changed my blog to “All who wander…” referring to “All who wander aren’t lost”.

It’s because something in this quote rings true with the way I, almost permanently, feel. I’ve been wandering my entire life.

I’ve ended up in some strange, unpredictable places. Places I would never have pictured myself in if you’d asked me a few years previously. Living a year in a small town in the mountains of Mpumalanga, working in a rural hospital as one of only two white people on staff. Moving to Cape Town, working in a mental hospital. Wandering around the cape flats and making friends with people whose lives look radically different than mine. Wandering around in Europe, living in Sweden for 6 months. Wandering around in snow-covered mountains in Norway, looking at glaciers and experiencing the northern lights.

Sometimes I wander around between the people I meet. The friends I make. My life has been blessed with many strong and valuable friendships. I always feel like I don’t deserve having the friends I have, because they are so special and loyal. I would not be half the person I am without them.

Mostly though, ever since I can remember, I’ve been wandering around in my own thoughts. In fantasies I create inside myself. In my mind I’ve travelled to the strangest places, both wonderful and scary. Mostly my thoughts are chaotic, emotional and wildly expressionistic. Sometimes they flow together coherently enough to make a blog post or write a short story. Other times they move into poetry or beautiful sentences. Most often though, I am just wandering between the chaotic worlds that are created within my mind.

Today I am 26 years old and my mind has been wandering a lot lately. I’ve been wandering why I’m not married. If I would ever have children. Why I’m 26 and I don’t have a steady job, and when I will eventually “settle down” and “grow up”.

But I look back at my life, at everything I’ve done. At every unexpected curve and valley and mountain. My life has wandered onto a strange, beautiful and scary path. I’ve been wandering a lot lately.

I don’t, however, feel lost.

Northern Lights

One day, a few years from now, I’ll think back over my life and remember that I’ve seen it. That I saw the night sky light up in green and orange and white. The evening was described as crisp. In my world though, -6 qualifies as cold, but apparently it was a warm Norwegian winter. It was a clear night and we could see the stars. We heard later that this was a good thing. The woman told us that when they were younger they were told that, if you waved at the lights, they would come down to grab you. Earlier it had never occurred to me that people lived in places where they could see this almost every evening during winter. We had coffee and biscuits, like proper grown-ups, conversing in basic English. But inside, like children, we counted the moments and hoped it would be tonight. We checked our watches regularly. The man had said it usually comes past 8, but it was 9pm already. We tried to look out the window as often as possible, without seeming rude.

Inside I knew. Tonight.

Suddenly he spotted it and were were up like children. We dressed in our boots, jackets, scarves and gloves quicker than we had ever before. In a few seconds we were standing ankle-deep in the snow, our eyes fixed on the sky above us.

It danced. It really danced. Even more than the pictures had lead me to believe. Green. White. Then orange. More green. Moving as if to the beat of some unique, cosmic rhythm.

Years later I will remember thinking that this was the “coolest thing I had ever experienced on my 25 years on earth.” Years later I will remember that the sky danced for me.

Things they never talk about

They don’t tell you this.

The waiting for the train. The 6 minutes that feel like hours, days.

The way your mind goes through every possible scenario. You see the world collapsing beneath you in a couple of seconds. You see the relief that lies within your reach. You see that you have absolutely no control over what will be revealed within the short space of time standing in from of you like a wall.

They don’t show this in the movies

The way everything moves in slow motion. The way your heart beats in your chest. The way you feel like the loneliest person in the world.

They never talk about this when they come to your school

You think of who you would tell. You think of ways to hide it from everyone else. You wonder who you can trust. You realise the irony of needing support versus the intense need of keeping anyone from finding out. You breathe. You choke. Your inside cries.

They don’t teach you how to deal with this, the moments inbetween. The not knowing. The breathing, the walking, the words you have to say to find out the truth. How can you keep the world from saying “We never expected this from her.”

How in a second the preconceptions and the things you never had to think about become more real that the people sitting next to you. How walking in someone else’s footsteps…

And you breathe. And you cry. And you dare not hope. And you wonder if things can be different. And you beg for someone to hold your hand. Yet you keep your phone in your pocket. You hide it from the world.

Some of Stockholm

In the beginning I thought of Stockholm as this cold, dark place where it’s hard to make friends and you’re constantly broke because everything is really expensive. Me and my friends have a saying “You can live in Stockholm, but you can never experience Stockholm” just because it’s so expensive.

Recently I’ve grown to like (love might be a bit strong of a word) the city more and more. I’ve settled in a bit, I don’t miss my friends all the time anymore, I met some really cool people from all over the world. I also had the privilege of travelling to Copenhagen, Barcelona, Gottenburg and to an island on the Stockholm archipelago in the time I’ve been here. I also learned where the cheaper places are to shop, gotten used to the way the bus and metro works, learned to enjoy my own company and I can even believe I’m becoming a bit more resistant to the cold. I am also referring to 5 degrees as a “warm day” now. Plus, my wonderful new Iranian friend borrowed me her heater, so I can heat up my room.

Thus I feel it’s time to share a bit of the quirks of the city and pictures of my experiences:

I used to think of doors as a pretty universal concept. Not here, most doors are really really heavy. And somehow I think they work differently than in South Africa. I constantly find myself pondering how to open a door, which way the lock turns and having to put my entire upper body strength into it to open it up. I think this is to isolate indoors from the cold.

Stockholm is a city of hipsters. Horn-rimmed glasses, skinny jeans, cardigans and other hipster paraphernalia adorn the streets, especially in the middle of the city where all the shops and coffee shops are.  But the hipsters seem to have infiltrated even the way coffee is served. It is not uncommon to receive coffee in a coffee shop in a cup without handles. Or even in a glass, the kind juice or soda would usually be served in. Normally you also have to pour your own coffee. I’m not sure what the sense is in serving a hot beverage in a cup you need to isolate before you can carry it to your table, but hey, maybe I just don’t get how cool it is.

There are little fruit and flower markets everywhere. Generally you can get fruit and vegetables and even sometimes clothing for a little bit less at the markets. And they are beautiful to walk through. Especially during Christmas when the streets are adorned with Christmas lights, larger than life Christmas trees, reindeer lights and other decorations.

Somehow I am still shocked every time the sun sets earlier, sometimes even before I’ve had lunch. Today, this was the view out my window just before 3pm. At about 3:15 it is absolutely dark. This makes for low motivation to partake in any activity that involves me leaving the comfort of my room.

Recently I discovered this magical Christmas drink called Glogg (pronounced glugg). It’s almost like gluwein. Actually it might be exactly the same thing, who knows, but it is a spicy red wine type of drink that you warm up and drink for desert. You can even add some almonds. Recommended to have it with spicy Christmas cookies and cuddling.

For more than a month now I’ve heard about this weather phenomenon where white, cold flakes fall from the sky and cover the surface of the earth. I bought boots, a big fluffy jacket, a warm, furry hat that covers my ears and a scarf that’s so big it obscured the bottom part of my visual field. And finally, last night, the snow came… It was very light, lasted a few minutes at most but I loved it. At first I stuck my head out of my 9^th story window and let the snow come inside, then I geared up and went walking in the snow. I felt like a kid in a candy store and wanted to tell everyone “Look! It’s snowing!”  I am amazed at how the world can turn into a white, magical landscape within a few minutes. As much as I’m not a winter person, I simply love the snow!

That’s all I have to stay about Stockholm for now. I will write some more when I come back from holiday. In two weeks I am off to Germany for a white Christmas, Prague, then Berlin for new years and to end it all, watch the northern lights in Norway. See you on the other side!

Black Tuesday

Between spending the weekend on a remote island in the Stockholm archipelago, dealing with sunsets at 3pm and writing exams on Friday I joined the Black Tuesday party a bit late. Had I known before deciding on my wardrobe yesterday I would’ve sported my best black outfit for the occasion.

For those who don’t know, the “Secrecy Bill” as it is being called in South Africa was voted into parliament yesterday with the MP’s voting 229 votes in favour, 107 against and 2 absentees. Black Tuesday is the protesting action that occurred yesterday, with everyone wearing black to oppose the bill being passed. People marched to parliament and I am proud to say my friends represented. Basically if the bill is added to the constitution it means that the government can classify certain information as “state secrets” and therefore it cannot be published by the media. Most people see this as an attempt to cover up corruption by the government and an assault on freedom of speech. Journalists can get upto 25 years in jail for publishing certain information. Do not take my definition of the bill as 100% accurate because, as I said, I was late to the party.

Therefore I reserve my opinion to:

1. Something is wrong in my country

2. This is bad

But…here are some (in my opinion) well-written articles that you should read and form your own opinion:

http://www.news24.com/Columnists/Khaya-Dlanga/Secrecy-bill-Opposition-to-blame-20111123

http://www.businessday.co.za/articles/Content.aspx?id=159255

http://www.guardian.co.uk/world/2011/nov/22/south-african-law-approves-secrecy

 

Also…enjoy the comics

n Briefie vir Raymondo

Raymondo

Ek skryf vir jou n briefie wat jy dalk nooit sal sien nie. Ek skryf want vannaand breek my hart oop vir jou. Eks so jammer oor jou pappa. Ek huil al heel middag. Maar ek weet aan jou maak dit nie saak wie huil nie. Jou lewe is in twee geskeur. Die dice het eintlik al lankal vir jou verkeerd geval. Ek dink nie jy besef hoe verskriklik skeef nie. Dis seker beter so.

Ons het ander aand n movie gekyk. Ek dink heeltyd daaraan. “Street kings” of iets. Hulle skiet daarin ook. Hardloop in die ‘hood rond en vang die druglords en ons kyk dit want dis “entertainment”. Dis ironies dat ons so maklik vergeet dat dit wat op die skerm voor ons gebeur vir jou maar net nog n dag is. Wat is fout met die mensdom dat ons bang is om in die flats te gaan rondhang? In jou eie huis vir jou te kom kuier, maar ons smag na die drama as dit net ver genoeg van ons eie realiteit is?

Mondo. Ek onthou jou groot ogies wat so maklik van sag na vuur kan gaan. Jou glimlag wat in n sekonde kan verander na n drygement of n vuishou. Ek het jou steeds lief en ek wens jy was my kind. Ek wens ek kan jou vir ewig vashou en wegneem van die lewe wat in jou skoot geland het. Ek wens ek kan vir jou verduidelik dat dit nie is hoe die wereld werk nie, en jy nie so hoef te lewe nie. Ek wens jy hoef, op die ouderdom van 12, nie jouself te beskerm nie.

Miskien eendag, hoop ons almal, sal jy saam my sien. Moet ons bid vir jou? Help dit tog? Of net aanhou blog posts skryf om ons gewetes te sus of uiting te gee aan ons hartseer? Jou situasie word beskryf as “hartseer” of “jammer” maar daardie woorde het nie betekenis nie. Dis tragies. Nie eers dit nie. Dis… net nie reg nie. Daar is iets diep in die materiaal van die samelewing fout dat jy die dinge moet deurgaan.

Raymondo. Ek kannie vir jou n drukkie gee nie. Ek kannie aan jou verduidelik nie. Ek kannie saam jou hartseer wees nie. En ek kannie begin om te dink wat in jou aangaan nie. Ek kannie vir jou ‘n pappa vir kersfees teruggee nie.

Ek bid net dat, wanneer ek terug is, ek jou nog eenkeer kan vashou. Nog eenkeer jou gebalde vuiste oopmaak en jou hart teen myne druk.

Sharing is happiness

I didn’t want to post anything recently, because, frankly, Sweden was kicking my ass. When you can’t remember what double-digit weather feels like, there is little differentiation between weekdays and weekends, you have no money left and its a week before you get paid again and you crave any food that can be described in a different way than “bland”, life just becomes dull. At least I had a bottle of Finlandia Vodka that I had purchased with some lime cordial before my great depression hit.

I simply couldn’t face another night alone in my room. I am really struggling to make friends, I’m not sure why as this has never been a problem for me. Even though boyfriend-type person is around, I missed having friends, and he is studying for exams. It seems just that every time I try to do something with people I don’t know it ends up being okay, but never really in a friendship. I miss coming home and having a flatmate to share my day with, waking up and knowing I can make plans with my friends that evening and living in a country where having a beer or going to the movies don’t need to be budgeted for two weeks in advance.

So on Wednesday night I found myself alone in my room with the evening stretching before me (it gets dark at 5pm now) when friends of my boyfriend invited me to a club. I think God saw that I was about to fling myself from my 9th floor window, because the friends could get me into the club for free, dancing does not cost anything and, since my airtime was finished and I had no money to recharge, this friend was the right cellphone network and I could message him back for free. It turned into a great evening from there and, even though I missed the next day’s class, I think I’ve made some friends. They were fun to hang out with, accepting of me and could take a joke (more than I can say for the Swedes).

Anyways, just having that one fun evening and making plans for next week, revived my spirit. As romantic and strong as “I can be by myself” sounds, it’s really hard. The fact that, from Thursday the rain stopped and the sun is shining (even though it’s still 7 degrees Celcius in the middle of the day) also aided in the elevation of my mood.

It’s weird what friends can do. Even simply having company can lift your mood. And it’s funny how deep and dark depression can be when we’re surrounding my strangers, not having friends to share our experiences with. Even sitting in the same room as my boyfriend now, though we are both studying and not talking, helps to keep me from feeling lonely. Sharing a space. Breathing the same air. Hearing someone in the background. This is essential to my happiness. I remember weekends in Cape Town, I loved waking up and smelling the coffee that my flatmate had made, or knowing she is inside the flat somewhere, even though we haven’t seen each other yet. I hate waking up alone. And though I think it is essential for us to be able to be with ourselves sometimes, I cannot predict a future where I will be an alone-person. My happiness is always in togetherness. In the sharing of experiences. Everyone is not like this, and that is okay, but for me the happiness of an experience does not lie in the experience itself, but in the sharing thereof.

Dear Karlien

Dear Karlien from Des 2009

 

Guess what? You’re living in Sweden now! But don’t worry, you still call Cape Town home.

Things you’ve learned so far is that you are definitely a summer person. Other than that nothing

is definite. You miss coffee with your friends, wine and sushi. You also miss going to the Labia.

You still have a love-hate relationship with the silence. As you always will, I guess. You’re learning

to love parts of the winter and living on the 9th floor. You love the chocolate, the public transport

and the endless internet.

 

About that boy…turns out you never really loved him like you thought you did. Or you loved him,

but you weren’t in love, whatever that means. And that him breaking your heart was more merciful than

you breaking his (which was inevitable). I know you know that and I know it doesn’t take away the current pain.

But soon it’ll be next week, next month and next year. You will look back fondly on those evenings you spent

crying on the bathroom floor. You can be a little dramatic at times

 

The darkness still haunts you at times and you still get really sad. But less often and for sorter periods of time.

I guess it’s part of growing up and taking life less seriously.

 

For now, I want to say, you can stop worrying about everything and calm down. It works out in the end, it really always does.

Enjoy the beach, the sun and by the way, moving to Cape Town is going to be awesome!

 

Love

Karlien from Oct 2011

“Karlien, meet yourself”

So I’ve never been good at being alone. It’s not my favourite thing to be nor can I stand it for long periods of time. In 2009 working in rural Mpumalanga I made better acquaintances with being alone. One could say we almost became friends. But one of those friends you don’t see often, but when you do you can chat for hours.

So here I am in Sweden again. Me and alone-ness staring each other face to face. More often than I care for. The romance of being alone wears out quickly in a small room on the 9th floor when it’s dark and grey outside and the cold descends like a predator.

So…Winter is coming. I need to find a way to handle this. My usual escape methods (e.g. a glass of red wine with my flatmate on my balcony, sushi at Beluga, staying out late with friends and coffee after work) are unattainable due to both financial reasons and lack of people to hang out with.

I’m sure it will get better. This is only the beginning. Or it could get worse. Either way, this is the way it is now and I need to make friends with my own company. Any suggestions? Anyone???