"My Baby Chicks"

12/15/09


Growing up I never went to camp. Girl scouts was a joke- I was only it in for the cookies. I tried a drama club one summer. When I was asked to improv a food fight I responded with, "I don't get it." Tried cheerleading for two weeks only to piss off the popular girls with their matching pig tails and pink ribbon and my recently cut off hair. Tried to convince my dad to let me join the boy scouts just to say I did it. And quit band after two weeks because I got caught faking how to play Mary Had A Little Lamb on my flute.

Yes, it's safe to say I never really submersed myself in the culture of "team unity", sing a longs, high fives, fake smiles, and a jingle jangle. I hung out with the safe urban rebels. I radiated social failure. I absolutely hated singing out loud to those "everyone knows this song" songs. It has always been torture being around a group of girls belting out journey lyrics as I struggle to make myself invisible.

But when my dear friend and Season six PCV, Lisa, asked me to interview for a camp counselor position for a children living with HIV/AIDS camp in Mbabane- I apparently had forgotten my completely awkward childhood and how little experience I have actually had with the koom-by-yah's, zipp-e-di-do-da's, and balloon animals. I just trusted her when she told me, "You're an extrovert- they'll love you." A week later I found out myself, another girl from Season 7 and a few from Season 6 were chosen to join this camp. The camp would being December 9th and end December 22nd and before we knew it...it was December 9th.

For four days chosen PCV's and chosen Swazi staff would go through "camp training". A camp for camp counselors. Senior staff put us through what our campers would be going through in four days. Senior staff: Patrick. A man half Irish half New Yorker. The most intense, hilarious, outgoing individual I have ever encountered. He reminds me of the game Sonic the Hedgehog. That moment when Sonic is rolling down a hill until BAM he carelessly runs into those bars that shoot up out of the ground. It's that moment where he springs back into the air, his little arms and legs shoot up and rings pop out of his tiny body. Patrick is forever in THAT moment. It's exhausting just watching him. His work partner, Robin, a woman in her early 30's and has lived already 20 amazing lives. Her intensity not quite that of the hedgehog's, but her smile just as contagious. This camp is apart of the Hole in the Wall Foundation created by Paul Newman in 1988. A camp for children living with serious illnesses all over the world. Called Hole in the Wall because many of these children are living with illnesses that carry a lot of stigma. The camp is usually in a hidden place not advertised.

For four days PCV's, senior and Swazi staff put themselves through the schedule and routine of a camper's. Every song, every dance, every cheer, every "We Will Rock You". We are taught "prompting", how to guide the kids. Prompt them with warnings before moving onto the next scheduled activity. How to herd children. The Cesar Milan of youth. Every hour, every minute is planned with games and play. If there is time to spare, an activity runs short, we are taught quick games to play with the kids that require no resources. We are to be on 24/7. On with a smile and constantly engaging. You get up when the campers get up. You sleep after they've slept.

It's not even 8 in the morning and my cheeks hurt from smiling, my hands from clapping, my voice from yelling.

Our Camp Schedule:
6:00 Early Bird Activity- quick games
6:45 Meds
7:00 Breakfeast
End of each meal we do what is called a DLP. Describe Label and Praise. Each Camp Counselor selects one of their campers to compliment in front of all campers in the dining hall. They are given a certificate and bracelet and in unison we all sing the song "We Will Rock You"
8:30 to 10:00 Activities
10:00 Tea Break
11:00 A more serious activity. Video on Drug Adherence or Child Abuse
Noon Lunch followed by DLP then dancing on the dance floor
One to Three soccer and more activities
3:00 Tea Break
4-5 Activity
5 to 5:45 Shower
6:00 Dinner
7:00 Meds
7:30 Evening Activity- A play, stage night, or performance
8:30 Before we leave, as a group, we sit and sing our goodnight song together "Siyabonga" We Thank You
8:45 Mountain Meeting- Camp Counselors and Campers sit in a circle, lights out, candle light, a water bottle in the middle of circle. A time for campers to reflect on the days events and talk.
9:30 Lights Out
10:00 Staff Meeting

Even though the campers aren't here yet, we follow this schedule to the minute. It's an American Camp, but with Swazi Staff's help we try to make it more relatable to Swazis. We scratch the name Camp Hope and rename it Camp Sivivane. A Sivivane is a collection of rocks, a Swazi tradition. As a traveler on foot, if you come across a new unknown path you look for a Sivivane, a collection of rocks. These rocks have been previously placed there by other travelers. These previous travelers wrap grass around the rocks to let you know how long ago they passed through. The worn out brown grass indicates to the new traveler that no one has used this path in a long time and the path might not be so safe anymore. The greener the grass the more likely you'll find others along the way. A Sivivane is a safe meeting place. This camp is their Sivivane.

We want these children to feel safe. We want them to be able to be children. Swazi staff warns us, "These children get up to do chores at four in the morning on their homestead. They aren't able to be children and they're also living with HIV. They cry in the dark and they hide in the light. But they don't want your sympathy, your pity. This makes them hurt more." I remember Mctosa telling me to stop crying whenever we talk about his HIV. "Simphiwe, stop crying. When you cry I feel the pain."

During training we watch a video called, "Living With SLIM". SLIM was the name Ugandans game HIV because it caused so many to loose weight. Children living with HIV are interviewed asking them "What is it like?" Tears stream down 6, 7, 8 year old faces. "I'm tired of the pain." "No one will play with me." "They beat me." A thirteen year old girl hysterically crying, barely able to get her words out. "I'm suffering because of my parents. Because of their mistakes. I did nothing and no they're gone and I carry this secret alone." She looks at the camera, like all of them, and pleads with viewers to get tested, "Don't give this to your children. They can have a future." A young boy is shown cleaning a mat outside. His two aunties sit and laugh, "We're going to beat you once the cameras are off. Hurry up! You make me sick!" The little boy cries as he cleans under their feet. The movie ends. I look around. PCV's sniffing and blowing their nose. Beet red cheeks and blood shot eyes. I look down at my hands- wet from my own fallen tears. Zandy, Swazi senior staff, stands and tries to comfort us. "The thirteen year old girl you saw crying on this film. I met her. She's nineteen now living in Uganda working at a clinic counseling HIV positive children. Helping others understand. And...she's happy."

During camp we are always to have a doctor on board. Dr. Doug stands and says, "This is why this camp is so important. We have to keep these children alive. To tell their story. To teach others and decrease stigma." A PCV asked me before camp, "What's the point of this camp?" As an outsider, first coming to Swaziland, you want to primarily focus on prevention. You think this is the REAL and most effective way to decrease the HIV prevalence here. But the longer I'm here the more I see the connection between Prevention and Care. Care is prevention. People need to hear these children. This is prevention. This camp is prevention. We are trying to empower these kids to stand up and speak. To band together and use each other as support because their parents are gone and their relatives won't understand.

After the movie we gather for lunch. Some of us are still horror striken from the film. One PCV comes up to me, tears still in her eyes. "I don't understand. How can people be so cruel, so uncaring? I just don't understand." Then I realize, those crying during that film- were PCV's and senior staff. Most of our Swazi collegues sat, checking email on their phones or dozing off. Why? This is happening to their people- not ours. Do they not feel more of a connection? After speaking with a few of them, I realized most of this staff was born and raised in two of the biggest cities in this country. They aren't seeing what we're seeing. I tell them my stories and they look shocked. There's a big division between urban and rural Swaziland. Care is not getting decentralized. People are dying not seen heard or treated. I speak with one of the Swazi staff. She's been there and seen that. A social worker in my community. Christ what a challenge. I tell her about the abuse on my homestead and the slow to react NGO's. She tells me, "You know, I once heard of a volunteer from Minnesota. He called himself, Mctosa." I smile. "Mctosa was known for getting things done. He wouldn't knock on NGO's doors, he'd break them down. When food was delayed he would remind them of the starving children. People gave up. They became familiar with his persistance. Mctosa got what he wanted and more importantly WHEN he wanted it." I ask her what I should do about Sindiso. "Well obviously, he's been abused himself. You first need to find out who's doing it on your homestead to him. But as far as the psychosocial support for him- there is none out there. You've got to brnig him to the city." The city where the poor go for help. The poor with no money for transport or care. The city- a world away.


Four days of training over. We are counting down the hours until these children arrive tomorrow. Patrick has officially lost his voice from all the screaming and yelling but promises it'll be back and ready for the big day. It's our last mountain meeting just to ourselves0- amongst all the camp counselors. In the candle light we all reflect on training and what to expect when the kids arrive. Everyone has spoken but me. I hesitate- it'll just look uncaring if I am the only one not reflecting. I grab the fake microphone and speak,

"When I was a kid, my mother, my best friend, and I were driving along this busy road when we spotted a gathering of baby chicks in the middle of the street. Their mother was on the other side unable to get to them. My mother, of course, immediately pulls over and the three of us jump out to pick up the chicks- stopping traffic. We're in a hurry. Cars are honking and my heart is racing. My mother and best friend are grabbing chick after chick and placing them in their folded shirts. But me, the self proclaimed animal lover and obsessor, I freeze. I can't pick up the baby chick. This tiny creature. What if I hurt him? What if, in the process of helping, I accidentally squish one with my bare hands? Now suddenly I have all the power in the world. The responsibility to save this life. What if I can't do it? What if I create more damage then good? I stand and stare as my mother rescues them. She saved their lives and I did nothing. To this day I remember that feeling of fear. Fear of responsibility for another. I was so angry at myself for that hesitance. Before today, I carried that fear. Fear of the responsibility for the children. What if I say the wrong thing. What if I hurt these children? Today I let go of this fear. I'm ready to embrace my baby chicks. With open arms and love."

We wake up early. Today is the day. We set up banners and decorations. In one hour the bus full of children will be here. We go over everything one last time. Wigs, smiles, name tags on. We run down to the front gate with our welcome banner in hand and song we've prepared ready to sing loudly. It's like that moment in soccer. Right before the whistle blows. I stand, right wing, in my sprinting position. Eyes on the ball, heart racing, focusing all my energy to go go go. The whistle blows and before we know it....

They're here.