impilonde!*

Today marks the beginning of betterness for D.; we picked up her first installment of ARVs at the hospital, and the queue wasn't too bad, either (only 3 hrs)!

We celebrate the smallest of achievements here, because so many unexpected little delays can build up into weeks of waiting...paperwork problems, appointments 50 km away, an official going out to lunch and never returning...but D. has the three magicl pill bottles in her hot little hand, and we're confident she'll make it. M. begins next week; here come the side effects...and the muscle of the film...

This weekend, we shot hospital images in an NGO hospice run by a generous doctor in Tugela Ferry. The Department of Health does not allow any filming on its premises, since being muckraked by some TV show earlier this year, so we needed some clinical images to illustrate the contrast of fluorescent lit, antiseptic-angular-steelyness with the light and texture of life in a thatched rondavel with chickens peering in. The hospice was infinitely more welcoming; big windows and walls that opened up to sunlight and patios that looked over the Tugela river; kind staff and plenty of personal attention. Birds flew into the wards, perching in the rafters. While we stressed that the patients would maintain anonymity (no shooting of faces), they were unanimously excited to have us there, and to demonstrate how much better they were feeling. The countless patients who have regained their strength continue to visit and brag. It's wonderful; every hospital should be as comfortable and personal as this. I was very impressed with the design of the Sloan-Kettering children's cancer ward in NY; bright colors and wood, open areas and minimal white coats. I'm pretty sure that that sickly pale greenish color (that doesn't exist in the natural world) used for bedspreads and scrubs doesn't need to be so ubiquitous. When I was 8, I cried to my mother that I couldn't concentrate on math because the classroom was painted that color (it was the math part, too). A place meant for births, deaths, and other significant events of life should be a better place to remember...the atmosphere seemed to increase the stress I felt when my Dad was sick. The objects that surround you may become so familiar that they virtually disappear, but they still make up the scenes that you remember of your life. Details are important. Of course, this rant could instigate the installations of one-size-fits-all motel art and decor...better wait till I get back to the states to do it proper.

I'm enjoying the higher stature that photographs have here; hardly anybody has them. I've gotten requests to send printouts when I'm shooting, so I take down names. Like Ireland last summer, there are no numbers on the houses, no street names, but also no mailboxes. Vusi will be able to find the person by asking around the area. One of the healers asked if we could photograph the virginity testing ceremony, but we were unable to in the end. It wouldn't have been the pictures you're imagining; more of the ritual. It's a source of pride to anyone, to display what you do with your life. If my house was burning down, the first thing I'd rush in to get would be the negatives and CD archives. I heard of one New Orleans photographer who shot himself when the hurricane flooded his life's work; and so many people left with no visual or material record of their families. I like the belief in ancestral worship here; records in writing and pictures help me to remember, but are more for the ancestors I won't live to meet. My great grandmother crocheted the most intricate green miniskirt. I get compliments every time I wear it, and she is mentioned every time. She lives on through it, and I don't have to have known her to know the kind of person she must have been. Every inch is perfect. It's also very short...

Saturday night we visited Phum's pastor, spending the night outside in a caravan that they take on the road for revivals. His family had taken in several orphans and sent them to school. In hard times, people band together. When it's easier, we compete. As I post, she sits on a plane, bound west for a beautiful new future...we love you sis, you are impossibly irreplaceable in the millions of hearts that hold you within—it will be wild to meet up again in Nova Scotia...

(*long life, cheers)