In the lead up to World AIDS Day, 2008, on December 1, photographer Brendan Bannon is in Kenya and will be providing images every day of his travels with MSF throughout the region.

Day 7 - DAILY LIFE

In covering HIV AIDS stories over the last 4 years I am always struck by how much this medical condition is also a social condition.  One way or another the hand  of HIV touches  everybody and everything in a place where  prevalence rates are above  30%.

Weekend rituals include funerals which are usually held on Fridays and Saturdays. For those on ART daily rituals  include  punctuating each day with pill taking and  bi-weekly or monthly doctors appointments.

People adjust. And those that don’t die; or they contribute to the epidemic in ways they may not realize.

Photographing the epidemic is always a challenge. It is vast and  it is everywhere and nowhere  at the same time. The  focus could be the clinics and hospitals where treatment is given. But that is only the most obvious place to look.

There are always opportunities to  make pictures of the  destruction - the destruction of bodies. We know those images well. The  real challenge is to effectively show the way that  the epidemic is infused in daily life. People really do live useful and full lives with HIV. Their continued presence is important to the people they love.

And yet we can not ignore the fact that people are still dying everywhere. Especially in  areas far from clinics. Communities that are not isolated from the spread of the virus are sometimes isolated from the spread of information that may save them.

When they do have the information they may not have the means- emotional or financial- to convert  that  information into treatment or prevention. In order to reach the hospital  some people have to travel 5 Km  just to reach the road and  another 30 Km  on that road to the clinic.

Sometimes you see generational change. I spoke to  a woman  named Jane who  found a way to deal strategically with her life only after she  began ART treatment. She began in the fish business trading her body for the opportunity  to buy fish. “If you didn’t sleep with them  they wouldn’t sell you fish” she told me.

Most of the fishermen and  the fish buyers she knew in  her youth have died.

There is a new generation on the small islands and beach  communities  that has taken its place and will  likely repeat  the mistakes that she made.

“You would need a lot of money to reach these places and organize the women and educate the men” she told me.

Jane’s  story:

“When I started in this business of fish there were so many of us. Competition was strong. Getting fish to sell was a problem. There were men admiring us and  ready to sleep with you in broad daylight. There were women going along and they bought fish very easily. My husband was still alive and had no job. We had children. So it forced me to compromise for the daily bread.”

“If I look for  the lives of my colleagues at that time I cant see them. They have all died.
“When I realized I had the virus I realized I would die if I continued living that way. With the ARVs I knew I would live longer and it gave me a moment to plan.
My husband was dead and I was alone. I needed to respect my children. I had to plan how I was going to live.

“People understand things differently, they perceive things differently. I understood my life differently  than others and decided to live it in my own way.

“What I am trying to say to whoever will listen is that you must think strategically- especially if you are HIV positive. You have to think, take care and not poison other people. There is no reason to die early. Life is how you take it.”

Treatment has changed my life and  replaced despair with hope.”

In the lead up to World AIDS Day, 2008, on December 1, photographer Brendan Bannon is in Kenya and will be providing images every day of his travels with MSF throughout the region.

Day 6 - MILKA’s DREAM

Milka Anyango Odondi wants to be a grandmother someday. Today she gave birth this morning to a healthy baby boy. They are both HIV negative.

“When I was pregnant I wanted to know  my status- I wanted to take every precaution to protect the life of my child. This is my third child and  we are all Negative.
I have been taking care of myself well. I don’t move around with other men and I believe my husband is the same. We stick to each other.

My husband tests every three months and is not going around with other women. We sat together and spoke about our lives and  pledged to concentrate our love in our family.

I encourage  my friends to take care good care and to not move around with other men.
If they stay  healthy they can take care of their children for a long time. If they move around they  might die and  leave their children  at too young of an age.

I want to be a grandmother; I am dreaming of it. I want the pleasure of  seeing my children grow and I  figure that  by old age I’ll have a lot to teach the younger ones.

I have known some wise women and I want  to be among them someday.  I have seen their homes grow well through their wisdom. I wish to be the same.”

Hours after the birth, Milka hadn’t chosen a name for the boy. She hadn’t talked to her husband yet. He works on a tea plantation in another district. In the rush to the hospital she  forgot to bring his phone number. When she speaks to him she will ask if he likes the name Ian Anyango.

In the lead up to World AIDS Day, 2008, on December 1, photographer Brendan Bannon is in Kenya and will be providing images every day of his travels with MSF throughout the region.

Day 5 - 11,622 HUMAN STORIES

Until today single themes or powerful stories emerged organically  giving me something to explore, photograph and write about. This day was different and I was left with several scattered moments that reveal the scope of what is happening  here in Homa Bay.

I visited Pamela, the head nurse, who sits at a large table in a big room lined chest high with filing cabinets.

As  we were talking people pulled out and returned stacks of files and  I became curious.

The cabinets were  numbered and the numbers climbed from left to right in a circle around the room.

The last number is saw was 11,622. “There are more files in another room” she told me. “11,622 human stories.” I thought. And Pamela said “ These are the lucky ones. They can come in for treatment. There are so many more out there in rural areas that don’t ever make it here.”

Earlier in the day Eric Aghan the MSF doctor brought me to see Henry. On Monday  we saw him unconscious- comatose from Meningitus.

Everyone was afraid and half expected that he would die. He had tubes in his nose and   hand.

“Here, when the family sees the tubes go in it’s like watching the  child  being taken to St. Peter’s Gate” Eric told me.

Yesterday Henry showed strong signs of recovery and Dr. Wanjala, the ministry of Health doctor removed  the tubes. “The patient does his part, we do ours and God does his” he told me.The boys mother found Eric on the ward and called him over. “She said ‘look Henry can eat on his own again!” and when she said it she was smiling all the way through. When parents see a child turn back from death they are very happy- it is a remarkable thing that she said.”

“Without proper care,  and if you are in a place where treatment is not  available, you would not be looking at a three year old child- you would be looking at another statistic.”

“There is no better way to thank the strangers who help MSF  here than to show them a child  that is still alive. People have hope not only for living but for living useful lives- going to school, farming, raising families, working. As doctors we have  a way toward happiness- we can properly treat  our patients and help our colleagues” Eric Aghan added.

The work continues. In Henry’s old bed there are two new patients with feeding tubes in.

In the maternity ward Azel was sleeping in the incubator. She was born 17 days ago to Dorothy, 26 years old, HIV positive.

Azel, sleeping in the incubator.

When she was born she weighed 1.92 kg.Now She is eating and gaining weight.

Dorothy found out that she was HIV positive when she was  3 months pregnant.
She told her husband after a few days. “He accepted the news. He told me it was normal. I told him to go and get tested. He didn’t bother.”

When a mother is HIV positive the child  will not necessarily contract the virus.
All protocols have been followed to help prevent the transmission of the virus to Azel. But  Dorothy won’t know for sure wether the baby has the virus for another 18 months.

In the lead up to World AIDS Day, 2008, on December 1, photographer Brendan Bannon is in Kenya and will be providing images every day of his travels with MSF throughout the region.

Day 4 - INVISIBLE CHILDREN

Walter is 12 and Charles is 10. They are alone and they are invisible.

“Nobody comes from the community to visit us here. They just look at us from the outside,” Walter said looking out the door of the house he shares with his younger brother.
They never knew their father. Their mother died in 2002 and  this April thier grandmother died.

“We dig the earth and plant and we go to school. No one is telling is to go. We go because we need more knowledge. I want to be a doctor- that’s why I go,” said Walter.

“Doctors help people and  I want to help people” he continued.

“Do you know any doctors?” I asked him.

“I heard of doctor Chula but he died 3 years ago. People were always talking good about him” he said.

Walter is 12 and Charles is 10. “Nobody comes from the community to visit us here.

I wondered if  during the time his two closest relatives were dying if they  received any medical treatment.

There is a cost recovery system at the public hospitals so people in Kenya who  are sick and poor often go without care believing it to be out of reach.

The boys  told me that when they get sick they wait for it to finish because they can’t afford to go to the hospital.

The brothers live in a 2 room mud and stick house on their grandmothers  200×200 meter plot.

Scattered around the land are signs of industry and initiative. There are the rows of maize, smaller plots for green vegetables and next to the house Charles has made a small nursery for tree seedlings. “this is my experiment,” he told me.

Walter is 2nd of 49 in his class  at school. Charles the younger brother is 5th out  of thirty.
In the face of an incredible tragedy these kids have and incredible resolve. And they have each other.

Charles said “My older brother is always  giving me advice. He tells me ‘We should love each other and not destroy the things we have.”

Walter added “ we still have a few problems- Sometimes  there is not enough food so we go to sleep hungry; The other problem is clothes- we don’t have clothes to wear to church.. or shoes. And sometimes we can’t afford the fees for our exams at school.”

After we face all of these problems and if we are able to succeed I hope the community  will see that we are people too.”

In the lead up to World AIDS Day, 2008, on December 1, photographer Brendan Bannon is in Kenya and will be providing images every day of his travels with MSF throughout the region.

Day 3 - LOVE MEDICINE

“Sometimes what you need to give a patient is love. For two months little Steve was our fuel. He kept us going“, Dr Rodrigo told me.

I think  that In medicine, as in life, there are ordinary  relationships and extraordinary ones. Extraordinary ones teach us about our selves and connect us deeply to other people. They  change us as they remind us of each others humanity. It sounded to me like the relationship that was fused between young Steve, his family  and his team of doctors was  extraordinary.

Steve, at 12 years old, was facing death.

When steve came to the hospital he was sick. His first line ARV treatment had failed. Whatever medical interventions were tried seemed to be failing as well. Steve, at 12 years old, was facing death.

Dr. Rodrigo:
“For two months he was our fuel’, said Dr.Rodrigo. “He kept us going and now the medical me doesn’t understand what happened! When I look back, I ask myself : what did we do to make him better?”

“At the time I was trying to Phase into the stage where you let him die peacefully- then we started to get closer to him. We talked to him about his dreams…
The emotional me wants to believe that love was the treatment. The medical me dstill wonders what was that got him through and made him recover.

“I remember a couple of days  being fed up with work. T

hings weren’t working and I went and saw little Steve who is dying and he would give you a smile and everything was better.

“One day Helen, Steve’s tuberculosis doctor, told me  tshe was having a tough day but after seeing little Stevie’s smile, things looked completely different, somehow better. I felt jealous for not being there.”

Eventually he started to recover. We  saw he gained  a Kilo of weight, then three and so on. Every little weight gain was like a grain of hope. Helen would come and check him very early and then she wouldn’t be able to keep the good news. It kept us going like fuel for our souls.”

In here you need to win some battles from time to time, little Stevie is one of those.

Steve was put on second line ARV treatment and, after a short while, he started correcting a nurse who delivered his medicine.

“When a patient is correcting his nurse by telling her she is  not giving the right amount of drugs.

That is the sign that the patient is ready to take his medications alone !” Dr. Rodrigo said.

“In the end ,the magic was Steve. He found the will to follow his treatment.”

The point of Dr. Rodrigo’s story to me  is not that love will conquer all or that on it’s own a miracle. But I do believe, because I have seen it in my own life, that when love, compassion and curiosity are shared with a patient the patient can see a world that is bigger than the disease.
And they can summon the will  to live in the world that they see.
My mother was sick for years with Multiple Sclerosis. I took her to hundreds of doctors appointments.  Most of the time the news was grim. She would be told: “you are worse off than  the last time I saw you and  it’s likely continue to get worse.” Then she was told that it was vaguely possible that the steady March of  disease could be stalled at its current stage for a short period.
There was  one doctor, Dr. Phillips, who made the time to listen to her. He asked about her work and her family. Then he would tell her that he admired her courage and that if he could  ask God for  one miracle he would ask for her  recovery.
By then she couldnt walk. So I couldnt see her quicken her step…. But  I did notice that she would push  the wheelchair out of his office herself.

MSF Blog: Chiradzulu part 18

My staff started playing Christmas songs during the day. I guess it’s expected, but as the days get hotter approaching full summer mode, hearing Silver Bells sounds a bit off kilter. I suppose the entire southern hemisphere celebrates Christmas in summer. Is it necessary to change hemispheres just to see another point of view?

Billboard on AIDS prevention in Chiradzulu (photo by Rupa Kanapathipillai)

Next Monday is World AIDS Day. I know I ought to write something, considering I am on an HIV/AIDS mission in sub-Saharan Africa, but I don’t know what more to say. I’m grateful for the change of perspective gained from living here. I see first-hand the challenges of running an HIV/AIDS program, which seems to have as much to do with inadequate infrastructure and poor motivation as insufficient resources.

I won’t repeat the tale of irregular electrical and water supplies, or the inability to regulate the lab temperature, or the incapacity to process x-rays, and I don’t even know how the surgical ward copes. Even with a laundry list of infrastructure problems, this is one of the better hospitals in the country, mostly because people know MSF is here. Why does motivation to run a functioning hospital have to come from foreigners?
Our hospital doctors and nurse come home each day as if spent in a boxing ring. (I try not to complain when they are around.) They see Death daily; he walks hand in hand with the apathy of the underpaid, under skilled hospital staff. It’s difficult for me to understand how government clinicians and nurses see their job as a 9 to 5, clock-in clock-out, how-little-can-I-do position. The patients suffer, and then die. Even providing water to the hospital takes cementing pipes into the ground to prevent villagers from dislocating them and taking water for themselves. I don’t know what it’s like to have scarce water – or none at all – but you’d think people would respect the hospital’s water source. Then again, maybe it’s not about respect but rather survival. When you’re living for today, it’s hard to think about tomorrow. HIV has kept life expectancy around 40 – so how concerned can one be with life at 55?

View of shops in front of the hospital in Chiradzulu (photo by Rupa Kanapathipillai)

Many of us come to Africa with enough answers but few questions. It’s a cyclical story of short-term goals, insufficient collaboration, recurring apathy, and eventual burn-out, or the politically correct term, “donor-fatigue.” How long are we supposed to care about a continent when we don’t feel like they care themselves? But is it about how we feel they feel? Within a few months, or even years, have we gained enough experience to unravel motivations for all kinds of behavior and practices? Surely our post-graduate degrees have conferred some knowledge on us to understand why people do what they do. In the words of a Hollywood movie, we come to Africa with our hand-sanitizer, malaria prophylaxis, bed nets and laptops and hope to make a difference. Perhaps hope is not a strategy.

In graduate school, my friend had written on her mirror in lipstick to remember how to get through each day: First understand, and then be understood. We are all biased by the impressions put upon us since childhood, whether religious, cultural, or societal. Yet we use our own background as criteria to judge others, despite the differences. It’s easy to judge someone based on our own standards, but much harder if you understand their entire history. Does having a little patience and understanding take more effort than changing hemispheres?

Sandy, from Chiradzulu in Malawi

In the lead up to World AIDS Day, 2008, on December 1, photographer Brendan Bannon is in Kenya and will be providing images every day of his travels with MSF throughout the region.
Day 2 - A DAY OF CONTRASTS
Today was  a day of stark contrasts. It is incredible to see two  sides of a disease so seemingly different. One  harrowing and horrible the other colored by hope in the face of tragedy.

3 years old and HIV positive, suffering from menengitis. (Photo by Brendan Bannon)

In the district hospital I watched doctors and families gather around desperately sick children. Henry, 3 years old and HIV positive, was suffering at the moment from menengitis which left him unconscious. His mother, father and aunt were bedside  and consumed with  concern and anxiety.

Doctors and nurses rushed around him tending to other children equally sick. There were at least 2 children to  a bed- all with tubes inserted for feeding or breathing or intravenous fluids.

Eric an MSF doctor examined Henry’s eyes to see what damage the meningitis  had caused to his nervous system. The boys pupils responded  equally to the light, meaning that  the brain infection had not permanently compromised his nervous system. Chances for a good recovery were still high.

The eye exam showed that chances of good recovery from meninigitis were high (Photo by Brendan Bannon)

This news brought a brief moment of relief,  the family gathered  in  vigil around him.

In the afternoon I visited Clinton, a 12 year old HIV positive orphan who lives with his grandparents. After walking 5 km home from the hospital Clinton effortlessly climbed a few hundred meters of steep hill to his grandparents home.

Clinton walking home to his grandparents house (Photo by Brendan Bannon)

Clinton began treatment in 2003- 2 years before Henry was born. Five years later he is still strong enough not to need ART.

Clinton’s parents died within six months of each other from AIDS. They refused to be tested and never sought medical help. “My own son and his wife would not have died- but they refused to acknowledge this disease.” his grandfather said. Clinton contracted the virus from his mother. At the first signs of illness he agreed to be tested.

Although he is HIV positive, regular checkups and  treatment at the first signs of opportunistic infection have kept him strong. “ Now there is nothing I can’t do,” he told me.

Clinton sorting a collection of rusted nails. He wants to be an engineer when he grows up. (Photo by Brendan Bannon)

He also told me that he wants to be an aeronautical engineer. He sees planes flying overhead and  now he wants to build them. At one point he pulled a collection of bent and rusted nails from his pocket and began to sort and organize them.

“He is very practical and he does things practically. I think he could build airplanes someday,” his grandfather said.

His grandmother, understanding that these pictures would be seen around the world, had a message to share:

The first one (Clinton’s father) died because he did not go for the test.  Clinton agreed to go and he is surviving. So I think everyone should go for the  test. There  is goodness in testing… and the goodness is that I am still seeing Clinton. And I am happy!”

Clinton and his grandmother. (Photo by Brendan Bannon)

Clinton, the future engineer wanted to “ thank the people who design the drugs and deliver them. Without them I wouldn’t be here.”

“Without the drugs  this district would be almost empty now.” his grandmother added.

In the lead up to World AIDS Day, 2008, on December 1, photographer Brendan Bannon is in Kenya and will be providing images every day of his travels with MSF throughout the region.

DAY 1 - HOMA BAY

This is a photography blog about HIV/AIDS in Homa Bay, Kenya.
The idea is that everyday leading up to world AIDS day  you will have a chance to see life unfold along lake victoria in western Kenya.

Homa Bay, perched along the shores of lake Victoria is the  district center. It is a town of between 50-70,000 people.

In Kenya HIV prevalence is difficult to pin point.  Recent government reports put it at approximately 15% in this area.  Among pregnant women  the numbers are higher-22-24% are HIV positive.

Msf runs a program  here providing treatment to 13,000 patients. Roughly 8,000 of these people are  receiving lifesaving Anti retro viral treatment ( ART).

 Of that number there are 1,053 children on ART. Treatment for children remains a challenge. It is not well adapted to children and it is difficult to take. There is still poor identification and testing and parents remain reluctant to  having their children tested.

The numbers alone  are overwhelming but behind each number are thousands of individual human lives for whom  a positive diagnosis is a life changing event.

In the pictures that follow I will  bring you closer to the day to day reality here in Homa Bay, one town among thousands worldwide where the problems and challenges of HIV are being faced daily.

Fishermen in Homa Bay, by Brendan Bannon

In the words of Dennis Okinyi Oluoch a secondary student and former fisherman…..

Once someone has been infected  with the virus the whole family will be effected.
Here the men make thier living fishing and if the man gets sick the whole family suffers because he can not work.”

HIV transmission is linked to poverty. If there is a fisherman and he has money  he will give  the money or even fish to have sex with a local woman.
It’s like this: a friend of mine was a total orphan. Both parents died from AIDS when she was 17. At the time she was in secondary school.

She was the eldest and when her parents died many  friends and relatives ran away, they didn’t help her. She had younger siblings to  care for and no options for  a job. She found big friends to help. She was bold and would tell you her problems and offer you what ever you wanted  if you would help her. She was beautiful and what  they wanted was to sleep with her. She started getting sick and soon she died.”

Before the drugs were introduced very many people were dying.
Now with the drugs its hard to see people in town looking ill. If you walk along the lake you won’t wee one of these skinny people. Town folks who are positive can eat and will take their medicines.

There’s a lot of money from  fishing but it is used extravagantly. They spend  it on women.

Money is used as a weapon to win the heart. There is no true love on the lake only lust. If there is any love it is the love of money. Girls can’t fish and if you cant fish how do you get money?”

Sandy in Liwonde Park, writing from Malawi

Am back from a 10-day jaunt in Europe, and have a few travel tips to share:
1.   Comfortable shoes, above all else.
2.   After 12 hours, if you can’t manage a shower, freshen up with a spritz or two of Chanel # 5 at your next Duty Free.
3.   Never freak out. Remember, there are millions traveling around the world with you, if they can do it, so can you.
4.   Be nice to all airline staff. You never know who is going to let you into the executive lounge with an economy ticket if you have a 10-hour layover.

My fretted lay-over ended up being quite nice, binging on fast-speed internet access. As I sat in that Air France lounge of the swanky Jo’burg airport, I understood why people have split our planet into separate worlds – developed, developing; industrialized, non-industrialized; northern, southern. Whatever words you want to attach to the division, it’s still there. I didn’t see the poverty of Chiradzulu until I walked through the wealth in South Africa’s premier airport. I walked slowly, feeling a bit shell-shocked. Sitting in the lounge, sipping my ValPré spring water, reading the previous week’s Guardian and the plunging of the markets – the world’s economic crisis of our time, I imagined the losses people are bracing for. Homes, school opportunities, health and retirement security. And those on the other end of the spectrum: yachts, summer homes, lifestyles. But back in the developing world, where the grass is definitively less green, people are fighting to stay alive.

Last weekend one of our nurses died because she couldn’t get to a proper health facility in time. She was vibrant, fashionable, sharp, and less than 40.

One day I hope to be old, but I don’t want to attempt reliving my past by jumping on the backs of those younger than me. Nor do I aspire to be a guiding torch or beacon for future generations. I want to stay in the moment, relish each day, live in the now.

And in this moment we have elected a new president of the United States. It’s funny feeling proud of my country – I guess I hadn’t felt it in a long time. I think the most brilliant thing about his campaign was that he got us believing in ourselves again. “Yes, we can.” That’s some power, getting people to believe in themselves. Many of the great leaders did that. Gandhi, Martin Luther King, Nelson Mandela, Roosevelt (FDR).

I used to want to save the world. Somewhere in that ocean of altruism was a deeply buried desire to feel purposeful, worthwhile, meaningful. I had learned early that my life would only have meaning through service, assisting others. If someone else benefited from my existence, then my life was worthwhile. And yet, I think about all the people who affected me. That I wouldn’t be who I am without the nicks, scratches, chips and molding done by others.

Perhaps in your daily interactions you are sculpting someone else. Maybe we are all artists painting this world, weaving this remarkable tapestry that is ours. Do we share a common vision, a similar dream? Can we make it happen?

MSF Blog: Chiradzulu part 16

A couple of weeks ago I went with colleagues to a concert that was being held for HIV awareness. In between performers, the emcee made an announcement – “There’s some information back there. So if you have a disease or something, check it out.” When my colleagues and I looked for the table of information, we found a card table at the very back with various items strewn about: pamphlets, male and female condoms, and oral contraceptives. We have a lot of work to do.

Sometimes work seems like all we do, so I’m thankful for the distraction family and friends send regarding the upcoming presidential election and the collapsing capitalist market. As we watch our lawmakers play with our economy like it were a craps table, and debate on who to blame – the people who took unaffordable loans from the bank or the bankers who gave it to them, I’m grateful that information doesn’t flow on broadband here or I’d be as panicked as an Alaskan governor thinking I’m qualified in foreign policy because I live between Russia and Canada.

Getting on the internet in Chiradzulu has been an 8-month long course in patience. We have dial-up which registers as 33.6kbs, but it’s more like 3kbs on a good day. I never imagined that hearing those high-pitched sounds of my computer logging on would be a tune that I crave to hear. While waiting for my inbox to load, I practice multi-tasking by wondering if I’ve truly weaned myself from being an internet junkie, thinking about my next blog, and how did I end up gaining weight in Africa?

A view in the region of a Baobab crossing, photo by Pat Carrick

Food here isn’t as much about taste as it is about substance. People don’t prefer nsima (maize-based porridge-like substance) because it tastes better – there is no taste, they like it because it’s heartier, heavier, more filling. A morning greeting here is, “Have you had breakfast?”

I thought I was the only one who gained weight, but our Field Co confessed to me that her pants don’t fit anymore either. It’s our cook’s fault. If he wasn’t so good, we wouldn’t eat as much. I wonder if he prides himself on watching all the expats get fat. It’s his cakes – those cakes that he conceals as bread by baking them in loaf pans. But one bite and that crunchy crusty exterior gives way to a pillowy, sweet, buttery piece of heaven. Butter is his secret ingredient – a pound of butter. I’m meeting former colleagues at a conference in Paris this week and I’m embarrassed to be the only person they know who went to Africa and got fat.

My flight is at the crack of dawn on Tuesday morning. We can only use the airport during daylight hours now. Apparently a month or so ago the power was out because a transformer blew. By the time they got it fixed, someone had stolen the cables for the runway lights. You’d think I’d miss being able to count on a scheduled flight plan, but it wasn’t until we ran out of water one day last week that I actually missed home, but it didn’t last long.

After lunch that day, I stared off into the clouds and imagined how empty my house in Atlanta would feel after having lived with so many people. That evening I looked around our living room, at our collection of books and DVD’s in half a dozen languages, candles stuck in empty wine bottles waiting for the next power outage, folded laundry lingering on the table until claimed, backpacks and laptops strewn about on the dining table that serves as our evening workspace, and it felt like home.

Sandy, from Chiradzulu!!!