The boys and I had an interesting experience yesterday morning.
I've been trying to figure out a way to get Auggie and Eland the BCG vaccine for some time now. BCG is the only vaccine available for tuberculosis. It works only for kids, generally leaves a scar at the injection site, and is given to all children in South Africa upon birth at the hospital. This means that no doctors offices carry the vaccine.
Honestly, I'm not so worried about the boys getting tuberculosis. It's endemic in the Western Cape, meaning most people have been exposed to it where we live, but most have fought it off successfully with healthy immune systems. It's really only people with poor immune systems (HIV, etc) that are at the greatest risk. Regardless, it still seems like a good idea to get it. Especially with Auggie headed off to school. (Although since all kids here get it, I suppose herd immunity will be working to our advantage…)
Anyway, back in September I phoned around and found out that they do have the BCG vaccine at the Victoria Street Clinic in Stellenbosch. They offer immunizations on Mondays and Thursdays starting at 8am. The boys and I left the house around 9:30am.
The Victoria Street Clinic is the local free clinic, meaning that it's full of very poor and homeless folks seeking care from an overworked staff.
It wasn't quite as full as I was expecting. I had Auggie in the stroller and Eland in the hiking backpack so that I could prevent as much contact as possible with potentially germ-laden surfaces. The clinic was fairly full, although it wasn't full of belligerent homeless like I had pictured, they apparently stick to the streets. Instead it was full of poor, working-class folks who looked like they had a reason to be there. There were mostly women--although one dad was there with his family including a newborn, and another dad accompanied his tween daughter. We waited around for at least an hour to squeeze in between patients to ask the Sister (aka nurse) in room number 5 if they had the BCG vaccine today. It turns out that despite what I was told on the phone, they do not offer this vaccine either and you really, really, really can only get it at the maternity ward in the hospital.
No big deal. I'll have to make more phone calls, or just show up at the hospital with two boys in tow one day. I can do that. But the most interesting part of all of this was sitting around the waiting room at the clinic for over an hour. We watched people come and go, we smiled, we got stared at because we were the only white people there. Everyone waited patiently, understanding that this is how it works there. The little boy next to us who came with his parents and newborn sister smiled at me. The mom holding her chubby sleeping toddler glanced up at the TV occasionally. There were posters all over all the walls explaining how to breastfeed your baby in Afrikaans and Xhosa, and saying you should do so until they are at least 2 years old. There was information on the symptoms of measles.
About forty-five minutes in, while we were still waiting, Auggie started asking questions about why the other people had dark skin. This was literally the first time he'd ever asked about anyone else having a different color skin than us. We've been other places where we've been the only white people, so perhaps it's his age or a new level of awareness of self and surroundings. It was fascinating to observe. I did my best to keep his comments to a minimum so as not to offend anyone. I know he was simply being a curious 4-year-old, but being the only whites there, I wanted to be sensitive. Once we got home we talked about how God made everyone, and even though we may be different colors on the outside, we all have ears that work the same way, feet that work the same way, hearts that work the same way, brains that work the same way, etc etc.
One more reflection about yesterday, and I'm not really sure how to deal with these feelings, to tell you the truth. While sitting, waiting in the clinic with so many other people who needed help and were literally at the only place they could turn to, the Nate Berkus Show played on the TV. Something about that contrast, the juxtaposition of poor/working-class versus annoying white Americans giggling and making brownies with marshmallows, or complaining about how they can't figure out why their immaculately decorated house wouldn't sell… I left feeling disturbed. I don't know what I can even do about any of that. I am not a missionary, I'm not an NGO worker, I'm not an educator. I'm just at home with my kids living in the southern tip of Africa. This feeling isn't new. While visiting the US and watching House Hunters I was completely revolted by the young American couple who couldn't comprehend buying a house that had linoleum in the master bathroom. They demanded ceramic tile as their lowest standard…. Really?
It's hard to balance what's right. I haven't yet figured out the answer to the question that's been ruminating in my mind for quite some time: What is a life worth living? I've lived in a house that we decorated beautifully--two houses, in fact. Was something wrong with that? Perhaps not. Perhaps? There's no judgement in my mind wanderings--sorry, Nate, hope I didn't hurt your feelings--just searching. And it's not like these observations and contrasts are reserved for South Africa, Sudan, Nepal, Guatemala, fill-in-the-blank-country-here either. There are plenty of poor folks in America needing freedom from the poverty lifecycle as well. To quote Jesus, the poor are always with us. Am I taking that as an excuse or a directive? Is it okay to want to live a comfortable existence? Have I mentioned that I yearn to move back into our house Albuquerque, decorate my boys' room in some super cute etsy-inspired way, see if the fig and oleander trees are still growing, plant high-sun low-water perrenials, and make dinner for my family in a crock pot. Maybe it's about heart-condition.
No judgements. I promise. Just trying to figure it out. Dan recommends continuing on with life, saying that the answer will come. I think there's truth in that.
Just thoughts.
1 comment:
Oh, Val, I relate to SO MUCH of what you talk about. Your post the other day about sending Auggie off to school. YES! I'm right there. Or at least I was there when he started in August, and I'm still there in a lot of ways. The good news is that Auggie has really amazing and intelligent parents to foster his desire to learn and spark his curiosity.
I'm right with you again on sitting around the socialized medical clinic for hours waiting. In our the vaccination ladies are LIARS. Often they DO have the vaccine I need, they just wait to see who is willing to stick around 4 hours until they finally decide to give it out slyly like they are doing me some big favor as if I passed them $20 or something.
I've had to go there a lot, but my strategy lately has been to take along someone else who also needs to go (there is always someone) so I have someone else to talk to. Last week I went with 2 other pregos and we all 3 got a tetanus shot.
My boys had to get the TB vaccine, although they don't call it BCG in Spanish, so I'm not sure if it's 100% the same. They did get a scar. If if makes you feel any better, I read a study back with Ethan was a baby about the vaccine in India, and it didn't actually help that much. I think the rates of TB were almost the same as in the general population without the vaccine. Plus, once they have it, they will always test positive on those little under the skin TB tests people have to take for jobs sometimes. Our boys did get them, since they have to have it for kindergarten, but if Auggie isn't required to have it, I wouldn't worry about it too much. Dang, of course I can't find that study now that I'm looking for it, and I'm sure you've done plenty of research of your own, anyway.
I'm also with you struggling with the contrast between US living and other country living. I remember going back to the US the first couple times and being completely awestruck by the amount of grass. Who are these people with all their luscious green grass everywhere?? ha ha.
Finally, I relate also to 4 year old conversations about race. I didn't really anticipate how the Mexican attitude of celebrating light skin would affect Ethan. He's constantly being told he has the most beautiful eyes anyone has ever seen and complimented on his light complexion. It's such a different world compared to celebrating diversity in the states.
ANYWAY, sorry I wrote you a book, it's just so wonderful for me to read another mom thinking similar thoughts and struggling through similar problems and issues. Thank you for sharing! Love you guys!
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