Cloudy, Uncertain, and Jumbled Thoughts.

Talk about mental exhaustion, which became physical exhaustion, which in turn developed into a cold. But I've had two days home from the villages, although not without being filled in on what all I missed- most of which was unfortunate. But, I'm taking a step back for the weekend, to try and see the bigger picture, and to ultimately pray for God to give me His eyes. I want to see these people and this place for who and what they are; hold the sugar coat please. And I'll be damned if that ain't what I'm getting. I'm trying not to become consumed in a schedule. I'm taking a step back to take it all in. I've forgotten that not everything is as it seems. I think I was planning on being inspired on the daily, but I'm finding I'm more troubled than inspired. Although frustration has a funny way of molting into inspiration. Maybe I'm being too literal. I need to think outside the box, or maybe just beyond the borders. 

"I want to tell you my story.."

Lindy became infected with HIV by her husband who wasn't honest with her about having a sexually transmitted disease. Her son is eleven now and her husband is dead. She lives with her son and boyfriend in Kwanokuthula, in the house that once belonged to her mother. She and her boyfriend share the curse of HIV, but have found love and comfort in one-another. She is unable to work because of high blood pressure and feet that are prone to swelling. She lost the house-cleaning job she once had because of the seemingly incurable rash that covers her arms. She is struggling to put food on her table and to provide for her son.

Lindy is on medication and is doing unbelievably well. However, this has not always been the case. The Plett Aid nurse I am shadowing, Poppy, said, "She was so sick." She grabbed my arm, "To touch her was to touch a bone. She couldn't talk, eat, or walk." Poppy visits Lindy several times a week to check and see how she is doing and Poppy is most proud to say that she has had a part in Lindy's recovery, even though the battle with AIDS is never-ending. 

When Poppy told me the next patient we would see was HIV positive I immediately began to prepare myself for the worst. When we walked through the open doorway to a bright pink kitchen, I was immediately swept into the arms of a bubbly black woman in a yellow floppy hat. I was reluctantly expecting this woman to take us into the bedroom to Poppy's bedridden, miserable HIV patient. But no, we sat down on the couch, this lovely lady asked my name, told me her's was Lindy, and said she wanted to share her story with me. 

Breaching Realism.

In the past I have found that even though I am consistent in forming extreme goals and dreams, I am often held back by being realistic. 

I have been everything but realistic over the past six months. Taking a gap year after graduating from Todd Central is unrealistic. Traveling to six countries in seven months at the age of eighteen with no one but sixteen other young adults is unrealistic. Coming up with $36,000 for tuition is unrealistic. Sitting in South Africa at this very moment, is unrealistic. Anything and everything about this adventure is utterly unrealistic. 

Realism is something that most individuals pride themselves in being. I on the other hand, now having had the taste of just how sweet it can be to break the cycle of realism, am choosing to never be realistic again. How could I? After working so hard to be unrealistic, and now being rewarded with an experience so real.