My Neighborhood in Turffontein

I am staying on the 2nd floor of Cotlands House, which serves as housing for volunteers (some of whom stay for a full year between high school and university) and for 10 children who, thanks to ARVT, have survived into the ripe old ages of 10-13. I have to unlock two iron gates to climb the stairs to the apartment I share with a Scottish volunteer, Louise, who is heading for home in 4 days after being here a year. I was not provided with a key to the outer gate, and so had to ask one of the kind women who look after the kids downstairs to let me in and out.

This neighborhood at one time was relatively affluent, or at least middle class, but the only evidence of better times is the size and structural qualities of the houses, and the fine old trees that line the streets. Turffontein is now the 2nd most dangerous neighborhood in Johannesburg and few people can be seen on the streets after dark. A few times a week, I walk to the market (SPAR) for supplies like bottled water, bread, and small meal supplies.

The walk to the SPAR begins on our street, Ferreira (named after a gold speculator who discovered gold on the Turrfontein farm back in the 1870s) to the large street at the end of the block. I have wanted to photograph this area, but have been afraid of being robbed. I did snatch a few pictures slyly the other day. The one below is taken from our entry gate, and shows some men working on a car on the left.At the corner, there’s an abandoned building on the right, which often has shattered glass scattered on the ground and sidewalk. There is a wide stretch of what would be grass between the spotty sidewalk and the street; it’s got some patches of ‘grass’, and consists of the red-orange dirt that is everywhere. Across the street, there is a covered area, like a craft fair booth, where one or two men sell haircuts and shaves. I think this was here last year, without the cover. There’s an open doorway nearby the barber that leads into a small room packed with fruit and vegetables; one of the little Spazas that can be found on almost every block (There’s also one along the walk to Cotlands from my apartment, but it’s bigger and in the evenings sells things through an iron grating. An even larger market is further down the road, situated on a classy corner spot). As I walk to the SPAR, I pass many other pedestrians and am unsure whether to smile or to avoid eye contact; I do a little of both. The pharmacy is in the block before the main intersection and the street that holds the SPAR. All over-the-counter and prescription medications are sold at pharmacies, even vitamins.

The main street is divided by a cement path, and is always bustling with both pedestrians and cars. Next to SPAR is an internet place that also sells some technology and a liquor store, where one can buy wine, beer & liquors. SPAR sells wine, but it’s very sweet. Across the street from SPAR is a vegetable market, a clothing store and others; a constant brei is in process in front of the shops, which sends smoke and the scents of burning meat around the neighborhood. Cars move very quickly on the wide sidewalk to access precious parking spaces, so we need to stay alert and be prepared to jump out of the way. Sometimes a couple white bums drunkenly call out to us as we walk by. Sunday night, one of the parking guards gave me a friendly nod of his head—a movement unusual for me—moving his head upwards and to the side after making eye contact.

Below is a photograph of the street that runs two blocks from ours to Stanton Street (too far away to see here), where Cotlands is just around the corner to the right.

Service Proposal & Hospice

Yesterday, I was able to identify a service I (and perhaps 1-2 of our students) can provide Cotlands on an annual basis for a short period of time each visit! Busi, the Outreach Manager, let me know that she would love us to perform assessments for the Outreach (Home-based Care) children; there are about 100 of them, and they all have developmental delays. The schools in Soweto are the worst in the area, she informed me; she thinks it would be important to know where the kids stand, as she is beginning to focus on the educational needs of these children. She also recruited me to provide a "debriefing" session for the careworkers (9) here at Cotland sometime next week. On Monday, Meisie has asked me to do an inservice for the same careworkers, revisiting basic counseling skills as well as some psychological diagnositic concepts related to children with HIV.

This morning I had a chance to visit Hospice, where I 'stimulated' an emaciated little girl--holding her, touching and moving her arms, hands, legs and feet, and eventually feeding her some Rooibus tea with milk and sugar out of a bottle. There were a physical therapist there, who comes every Tuesday morning to assess and work with the Hospice babies. She talked to me about the little girl I was holding; Meisie brought the child, 18 months old, two weeks ago from the clinic because she was "failing to thrive." The child's legs and hands were emaciated, but her lower body had not developed at all from infancy. This is apparently common, because the children are often left sitting for long periods (her upper back has developed and is strong, but her lower back is curved and that of an infant), and so they cannot crawl or walk, as a typical 18-month-old would have already mastered. Her legs were floppy and would not straighten out on their own; the bottoms of her feet are rounded like infant's. The child is very passive and fairly unresponsive to touch; she did attend to the sounds of other children in the room, and would follow a toy with her eyes when I moved it in a circle before her. When it was time to feed her, she couldn't manage the sippy cup, letting the liquid spill out her mouth onto her clothing. When we brought her a bottle, that also seemed a challenge until the physical therapist took her tiny hands and put them on the bottle; then, the child grabbed the very end of the bottle and pushed it into her mouth, drinking gustily. The PT said that this was common for babies who are left alone to feed themselves, which suggests a fair amount of maternal neglect. Almost needless to say, she is HIV+, which means her mother is too.

I made the connection at some point between this child's situation and the story Meisie told me last week: Meisie had been trying to get a hold of the mother of a child she had admitted to Hospice the week before, because she had not yet visited her child there. She finally spoke to a family member while we were driving from Soweto back to Cotlands; the mother had left the area, telling her famly that her child was in the hospital and she could visit her. Meisie, somewhat despondently referred to the mother's disappearance as 'respite.' Child neglect is a serious problem here, primarily due to poverty and all its sequelae, and to AIDS. Cotlands will make sure the child is not returned to the mother until she can care for her appropriately. The physical therapist assured me that she would improve physically with time and Hospice care; she has seen other children come into Hospice in this condition (she's worked there 25 years!) and improve significantly.