Participants Blog
Visits with Gogo in Swaziland
All of my life, I have been the type of person to want to go out and “save” the world. Witnessing injustice has always created a rage inside of me, further motivating me to take action and alleviate the pain caused by the injustice. However, for the first time in my life, the sight of injustice has left me feeling paralyzed, immobile, and hopeless. My host sister, Xolile, is a care giver for SWAPOL, which means that she is responsible for faciliating home visits to sick people in her town. As a volunteer with SWAPOL, I have made it my duty to accompany her whenever she goes out. Although I will try as hard as I can to capture my first home visit in words, no words could ever serve it justice.
On our way to the first home, Xolile warned me. She told me that the person we were about to visit was extremely old, bedridden, and almost completely blind. She told me that the woman (who we call ‘Gogo’, which means ‘grandmother’ in siSwati) has a daughter who never comes to visit, even though she lives close by. “Gogo lives alone”, she said…“I don’t know why her daughter never comes to visit”. She told me that even though Gogo was extremely sick, no hospital has ever admitted her; instead they have simply told her that she was fine and turned her away. Because of this lack of medical attention (to say the least), nobody actually knows what sickness(es) Gogo has. All Xolile knows is that Gogo is bedridden, her hands and feet are in extreme pain, and her feet are swollen. But regardless of what Xolile told me, nothing could have prepared me for the sight I was about to witness. When we got to Gogo’s homestead I saw what appeared to be a wooden roof top, obviously meant to furnish a house, but that was mangled and on the ground. Then I saw her home, which was the equivalent in size of my parents’ walk-in closet in Canada. Xolile went in first to ask Gogo if I could come in. She said yes, and as soon as I walked in (even before I saw her), I felt like I was being punched in the face by the foul smell that furnished the room. I can’t even describe the smell…it was a combination of urine, feces, and other unknown, rotten substances. I looked to my right and saw a plethora of dishes and containers inhabited by old, hardened food, accompanied by flies and other bugs. Then I looked to my left, and instead of seeing an old woman in a bed like I had expected, I saw a decrepit skeleton of an old, frail, dehydrated, malnourished, neglected woman lying on a thin mat on the ground with a blanket on top of her. As much as it pains me to say this, she honestly did not even look human…I felt like I was looking at a cartoon character///someone who could not possibly exist in real life.
As I entered the room, Xolile told Gogo that I was now present. Gogo, in siSwati, said “God bless you for coming to visit me”. I said “God bless you too”, and then she said “God has blessed me because I’m still alive”. Although I could not possibly imagine my heart breaking any further, it shattered once again. The sight of Gogo made me extremely angry. But this only increased with my next home visit. One weekend, Carleigh (another Intercordian), came up to my place and stayed with my host family and I for the weekend. We were walking around the village one day and decided to visit Gogo. I tried to warn her about how frail and weak this woman is, but I knew that no words could prepare her for it. When we reached her door, I knocked and said “Gogo, ekhaya!”, which means “grandma, I’m home!”, and she responded. As I hesitantly entered the room, the smell seemed even stronger and even more unbearable. Then I saw her again. This time was almost more disturbing than the first, and I was stunned. Gogo slowly got up (it took her about a minute), but her facial expressions radiated the sheer and utter pain that comes from such strenuous physical activity. Carleigh (being the wonderful nurse that she is) went right by Gogo’s side and started feeding her. But I was just stunned. Paralyzed. Incapable. I stood behind Carleigh and bawled my eyes out. I could not do a single thing. I could not help Gogo. I could not feed her, or sit next to her. I was just so traumatized. Carleigh asked me to look for some water but because we couldn’t find any, I took the water from my water bottle and gave it to Carleigh. We contemplated how to give her water without having her touch the water bottle because it was the only one I had. Carleigh told me to pour the water in her hand so that she could pour it into Gogo’s mouth. She did this a few times, but then Carleigh’s hand, which touched Gogo’s mouth, also came into contact with the water bottle. When I noticed this, I just told Carleigh to give her the water bottle.
When I reflect on this particular moment, I become so disappointed in myself. I cannot believe that I didn’t give her the water bottle until I knew I couldn’t use it anymore. I cannot believe that I didn’t just give her my water bottle in the first place. I really didn’t want to give it to her because I didn’t want to share the bottle and I didn’t have another one. I cannot believe how selfish I was…how much of a hypocrite I was…and I cannot believe that I put myself before dying Gogo. I cannot believe that I couldn’t just say “well, I’ll give her this one and I’ll just buy another one for myself because I’m not bed-ridden”...I’ve never been such a selfish failure in my life. But it sure as hell taught me something. At that point, I was a typical human being…you know…the one that I always fight against. For the first time in my life I was so selfish. How could I have been so selfish, especially when dealing with an old, sick, dying, neglected woman who is, potentially, moments away from her death as I write? I am so embarrassed about this event and I contemplated even writing about it. But it is an integral part of my experience here. It was an integral moment in my life; I caught myself being everything that I fight against. My heart is really breaking just thinking about this moment. And I will never do this again. I imagined coming to Swaziland to make a huge difference. I haven’t. I haven’t been able to eradicate HIV/AIDS, or bring water to the men under the tree, or to pay for any child’s school fees. But bit by bit, I do feel like there is a slight chance that my presence has a positive impact on the people with which I’m interacting.
I visit Gogo every day now. Although my heart beats rapidly and intensely every time I approach her door because I don’t know whether Gogo is alive or dead, and although I have to hold my breath when I go into her home because the stench alone could knock me dead, I visit her. All of the visits since the one with Carleigh have been extremely painful. But I do it anyway. I go in there and I sing to Gogo. I am no singer and I don’t usually do this, but I will for Gogo. It may not even make a difference to her. But I have a feeling that it does. Every time I come in, she sits up, bows her head, and just listens. I can’t give her the gift of life because the neglect in this country produced by injustices in the medical feild, and even in her own family have all contributed to it. I can’t give her the gift of conversation because I only know a few words in siSwat and she knows no English. But I can give her the gift of song. It may not be the best songs or voice she has ever heard, and she may not even really pay attention to it. But I’m going to take a chance on it. I am going to hope that, some way, some how, my voice, my presence, and my life will make her breathe a little bit easier. Because, “to know even one life has breathed easier because you have lived. This is to have succeeded” (Ralph Emerson).
Tania, University of Toronto
Feeds
Dear Tania,
Though at the time it doesn’t feel like much, bearing witness to Gogo’s life, and the lives of others you encounter in Swaziland makes a very important contribution to raising awareness of, and struggling against the injustices of the world.
Your response to Gogo and her situation is totally understandable, and completely human. Gogo is living in horrific circumstances that most of us in the Western world can hardly conceive of. What you are bearing witness to, and the relationships you are forming with the people around you are deeply affecting, and to be around this kind of human suffering is traumatic and incredibly painful. While the impact of this can make you feel incredibly isolated, please know that you are not alone.
Having volunteered with an AIDS organization in Zimbabwe 15 years ago, I bore witness to the same kind of human suffering as you are now. I experienced very similar feelings of guilt and disappointment in myself as you are now. Many of us go to Africa with a desire to “save” the world, only to find that it is we who have been fundamentally changed by our experience. Please know that because you will never be the same, this alone will contribute to the fight against poverty and injustice.
Swaziland and her people are giving you one of the greatest gifts you will ever receive. Let this experience change your life, and through this change, you will help make the world a better place.
Reading your story brought back many wonderful and difficult memories for me.
My heart is with you, Tania. Be strong. Don’t be afraid to cry. Cherish every moment you experience and every person you meet.
Tania:
Thank you for sharing this story. I know that Intercordia is all about opening one’s heart and learning with the heart and not just the head. The story you share about Gogo is very moving and your honesty in sharing your genuine feelings very powerful. I am 1,000’s of miles away but can feel myself in the presence of this small woman and feel the power and immediacy of your interaction. I am moved deeply by the guilt you felt over not sharing the bottle because I fear that would be my reaction as well and probably a reaction to so many of us who come from this side of the world. I am moved by your own disappointment and recognize in myself the many times I allow concern for self to take prominence over concern for others. I think it is a great gift this sharing of Gogo’s story and somehow brings some of her spirit here and allows her to speak to us despite the distance and disparities.
Thank you and keep on singing.
Tim Greenwood
As a first comment I would like to say to Tania that your act of human solidarity is very inspiring. In the world where we often live in a very tiny bubble, we should be thankful to read a story such as yours.
In Toronto, we are now going through a civic workers strike and to hear people talk about about being without garbage services for only a few days, you’d think as if we are already living in squalor. People have completely lost perspective with what is important in life: being part of a community that shows its compassion and care for all of its members. Everyday I see young people plugging themselves into an Ipod on a subway and closing off the world around them and I feel that idea of community is fading away as the idea of success or happiness becomes more and more an individual achievement.
While it is important that people strive to live up to their potential, I think the lesson lost of many of us is that that our potential is best reached we we achieve not only for ourselves, but the community around us and the larger world we are part of.
You have shown that there is a counter example to this. That we can fulfill our potential not just in achieving individual success, but to expend our energy and thoughts to ensure that the world around us succeeds as well.
It is clear to me that you have made a large impact in Gogo’s life, but by sharing your story you also help us remember what’s important. Thanks again.
Tania,
Your entry brought tears to my eyes. You have a gift of writing from a place of honesty, as I found myself there with you and Carleigh (a friend of mine, actually!). Thank you for baring your soul a little for us. Thank you for not shying away from hard feelings. This is why a program like Intercordia exists, and this is where the value of it lies… although a hard thing to admit to and recognize in yourself, this incident will forever change you for the better… and really that’s how we all learn, isn’t it?! Through experiences, the good the bad and the ugly… and then it’s up to us to decide how we will live from there on out. Over and over, through our whole lives we make these choices, and the experiences that you and the other students are having in communities around the world are giving you some powerful choices to make! It’s pretty amazing. Keep sharing… it is making the circle of people affected by your experience there that much wider
Thank you!
Dearest Tania:
Thank you for your honesty. You are a woman of rare integrity. I pray that you will take the love and compassion that you feel for others and apply it to yourself. You are not selfish, merely human.
As for your singing, this is no small gift to Gogo. Music is a balm and the quality of your voice would not affect its healing power. Many years ago, when I first joined the U of T Gospel Choir, I struggled to find my place amongst so many extraordinary singers. I wondered if I even belonged with them. But my beloved friend Pam shared a quote (from Henry Van Dyke) with me: “... the woods would be very silent if no birds sang there except those that sang best.”
Please keep singing to Gogo. I wish you peace as you continue to walk each step of your challenging journey. I will hold you in my heart. You are not alone. I would like to share one last quote with you (from Mary Anne Radmacher):
“Courage doesn’t always roar. Sometimes courage is the quiet voice at the end of the day saying ‘I will try again tomorrow’.”
Dear Tania,
Thank you for being honest about your experience with Gogo, it made it feel very real for me. I can’t even imagine how hard it is to be in Swaziland, witness to so much injustice.
I am grateful that you here reminding us of what is happening outside of our world and that sometimes we need to step out of our comfort zone to make things right.
I’m especially grateful knowing that your gift of song and your presence in Gogo’s life gives her the dignity she deserves.
Dearest Tania! Thank you so much for sharing this experience. I could not stop reading it, I paused after every few sentences so I could absorb your emotion that went into it. Thank You SO much for visiting Gogo, and for recognizing that despite your self-proclaimed weaknesses, that your presence in Gogo’s life means something! I have always turned to song as the best way of simple commuinication, even as prayer. It is a universal language and I am sending you all my light and love from Toronto as you continue your visits, and your intercordian adventure.
I love you!
Your Sister in Christ,
Stefanie
Dearest Tanya,
I am so very proud of you. You may not be aware of it but the pain you are feeling is the pain of your heart turning into a heart of flesh. The experience of injustice has a way of breaking down our defenses and opening our eyes to the things we have not seen before. When Jesus asks the blind person, “What do you want me to do for you?’, he replies “Lord, I want to see AGAIN?” You are seeing things in a whole new light now. You are definitely making a difference by ministering to someone who is suffering. The simple everyday gestures that are judged to be trivial or unimportant are probably the ray of hope that sustains Gogo. And hope is what we need no matter where we are in our life’s journey. You are doing the most important thing of all, showing love to someone who desperately needs it. I look forward to speaking with you when you get home. You are in my prayers.
Blessings,
Marilyn
Dear Tania,
I cannot believe or even think of the wonderful gesture you are providing not only for the people in Swasiland but for Gogo. You are such an inspiration to all, no matter how you feel about such a situation. The reaction you got when giving her water is only human. Unfortunately not everyone is perfect. But you as a human gave it to her in the end and that’s all that matters.
What you are experiencing is something a lot of people can’t say they’ve done and you have to be so blessed for having this experience. You have touched many lives in Swaziland but you have always touched our lives at home as well.
Be strong and you will succeed, You already have.
Love always Antonia!
P.s. We all miss you back home
Dear Tania,
I think what your doing is very special, just like you are and maybe if there were more of you in this world we would all be living a better life. I truly believe that 2 people don’t have to speak the same language to understand each other and I strongly believe that Gogo appreciates your singing Tania no matter what it sounds like, we miss you dearly and I’m glad that my family has a friend like you.
Love you,
The Caporusso’s
Dear Tania,
Gogo is listening to your voice. She cherishes every moment you spend with her.
Ironically, it is the ones who have the least who feel most blessed.
As for the bottle incident, thank you for sharing your thoughts. Many of us are ashamed to make public our embarrassing moments.
Here’s a passage by C.S. Lewis to sum it up:
“When a man is getting better, he understands more and more clearly the evil that is still left in him. When a man is getting worse, he understands his own badness less and less. A moderately bad man knows he is not very good; a thoroughly bad man thinks he is all right. This is common sense, really. You understand sleep when you are awake, not while you are sleeping. You can see mistakes in arithmetic when your mind is working properly; while you are making them, you cannot see them. You can understand the nature of drunkenness when you are sober, not when you are drunk. Good people know about good and evil; bad people do not know about either.”
...So you’re on the right track.
God bless,
Cindy