Over the weekend, I "heard" my mother come out of my mouth. I wonder how many other people have that experience, hearing themselves saying something their mother would have said. Mothers have such a fundamental place in our mental lives- I'll bet lots of others "hear" their mothers long after their deaths.
It made me think again about something I've wondered recently: what happens in a community and a society when the mothers/parents are gone, and the children don't have the security of their love and protection, as well as their teachings about how to relate to others, about cultural norms, -their socializing influence. Many of the AIDS orphans have mother surrogates, often the grandmothers, but so many don't.
I wonder what future history will teach us about that.
We leave tomorrow on this great adventure!
Tuesday, April 27, 2010
Saturday, April 17, 2010
I've been thinking about what motivates us to become involved in the Stephen Lewis Foundation (SLF) and its Grandmothers to Grandmothers (G2G) Campaign.
For me, it's partly the Wise Old(er) Women, the WOWs, who I have met and read about through the campaign. Women like the members of our local Grey Grannies group who get together to sell jewelry or Dare to Dance or have "hatching parties", to make Grannybirds, token gifts for donors to SLF. Women like Siphiwe Hlophe who is organizing the Grandmother Gathering in Swaziland, along with playing a key role in the operation of Swaziland Positive Living.
Stephen Lewis himself is a huge motivator, as almost anyone who has heard him speak with such passion about the HIV/AIDS pandemic in sub-Saharan Africa will agree.
And the children.
I remember as we were settling into our first house in St. John's, a neighbor took me under her wing. She set out to introduce me to Newfie-speak, to tease me when I couldn't understand so much of what she said, to give me tastes of seal meat (yuck!) and fresh hot toutens with molasses (yum!), and, to ensure I wasn't taken advantage of by any of the other neighbors. "You're too soft!" she told me repeatedly, when I didn't take issue with someone over some infraction or other.
Actually I'm pretty impervious, oblivious to lots of things, pretty hard-nosed. I don't cry- almost never. But, reading "Bruno's Story" in the SLF's Grassroots publication had me close to tears- still does. Bruno was a small Ugandan boy aged 14 who was living isolated and alone, after the deaths of all the adults in his family compound. As the field representative described it: "No people, no pets, no company, no protection. No paraffin lantern or even a candle for light after dark. No food in the kitchen except for some bananas and a few mangos. And just one small boy, trying to make it on his own, day by day." The shreds of hope in the story were that Bruno went to school every day, to the Nyaka AIDS Orphan School, and that the SLF field representative had made contact with him.
Then there is Mantua. She lives in Soweto with her grandmother Salome and younger brother Joseph. In the SLF film "Grandmothers: the Unsung Heroes", 9-year-old Mantua tells us she wants to be a doctor. There is hope and determination in her shy face. One hopes she can live her dream- she and so many others in sub-Saharan Africa, where they can fill such a need.
I have an idea, a fantasy probably, of learning more about Mantua when I visit Johannesburg. But in any case, Bruno's story and Mantua's underline the key role of access to schooling. Our support can contribute to ensuring the Brunos and Mantuas can get an education .
For me, it's partly the Wise Old(er) Women, the WOWs, who I have met and read about through the campaign. Women like the members of our local Grey Grannies group who get together to sell jewelry or Dare to Dance or have "hatching parties", to make Grannybirds, token gifts for donors to SLF. Women like Siphiwe Hlophe who is organizing the Grandmother Gathering in Swaziland, along with playing a key role in the operation of Swaziland Positive Living.
Stephen Lewis himself is a huge motivator, as almost anyone who has heard him speak with such passion about the HIV/AIDS pandemic in sub-Saharan Africa will agree.
And the children.
I remember as we were settling into our first house in St. John's, a neighbor took me under her wing. She set out to introduce me to Newfie-speak, to tease me when I couldn't understand so much of what she said, to give me tastes of seal meat (yuck!) and fresh hot toutens with molasses (yum!), and, to ensure I wasn't taken advantage of by any of the other neighbors. "You're too soft!" she told me repeatedly, when I didn't take issue with someone over some infraction or other.
Actually I'm pretty impervious, oblivious to lots of things, pretty hard-nosed. I don't cry- almost never. But, reading "Bruno's Story" in the SLF's Grassroots publication had me close to tears- still does. Bruno was a small Ugandan boy aged 14 who was living isolated and alone, after the deaths of all the adults in his family compound. As the field representative described it: "No people, no pets, no company, no protection. No paraffin lantern or even a candle for light after dark. No food in the kitchen except for some bananas and a few mangos. And just one small boy, trying to make it on his own, day by day." The shreds of hope in the story were that Bruno went to school every day, to the Nyaka AIDS Orphan School, and that the SLF field representative had made contact with him.
Then there is Mantua. She lives in Soweto with her grandmother Salome and younger brother Joseph. In the SLF film "Grandmothers: the Unsung Heroes", 9-year-old Mantua tells us she wants to be a doctor. There is hope and determination in her shy face. One hopes she can live her dream- she and so many others in sub-Saharan Africa, where they can fill such a need.
I have an idea, a fantasy probably, of learning more about Mantua when I visit Johannesburg. But in any case, Bruno's story and Mantua's underline the key role of access to schooling. Our support can contribute to ensuring the Brunos and Mantuas can get an education .
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