Going Home!

1)"Clowning around" in the car. 2) Reunited with family and friends.

3) John and his best friend. 4) Self-portrait with Nike shoes seen on TV.

First and foremost thanks to everyone for your support, wonderful responses to the blog, in particular "John's story", and the handful of donations that came through just in time for Christmas. I love hearing and getting your responses so keep them coming. . .

And now for an update on John. I went into the Red Cross last Thursday expecting to have one more full day of working with John before he would be released to go home on Friday (and was waiting to have an appointment with both the head of burns and the social worker regarding if it would be possible for him to be released to me so I could drive him home). However, when I got there he had been released a day early and the talk around the ward was that I was taking him home right then and there, which was news to me. And this is how it went: within 2 hours, I gathered all his belongings and 20 art images that he had made (there were countless others, some he gave to his Aunt during her one visit to hospital, some to me, and some he wasn't pleased with and wanted thrown away), got new clothes for him and dressed him, picked up his prescriptions from the hospital pharmacy, went over instructions for his care to relay to the family and simply signed my initials for his release. All of this without having another conversation with the head of burns or with the social worker or with his Auntie/any other family member for that matter ("not necessary" I was told, just sign him out). I was never asked for my phone number but was given a number to call the Aunt should we get lost. Granted, the secretary had talked to the Aunt to set up a time for our arrival. . . but really I could of been anyone, and in retrospect this is just one more BIG cultural difference. This never would of happened or flown had we been in the States or Canada (the last two countries I lived in). Kind of like how my Aunt commented on the metal detector in the main entrance to the hospital that beeps every time someone walks through, and the guard who is always there but never asks for you to go through again, empty your pockets, take out your cellphone, set your purse down to be gone through, and so on. Everyone just walks through beeping away and not a word is said. Rather ironic yes and it does make one wonder why these systems are in place to begin with when they don't work some/most of the time.

At any rate, I'm getting side-tracked from the story. My Aunt Kristine was more than happy to accompany us on the journey home which I am so grateful for and pleased that she could share the experience with me. She was willing to drive which was great as it meant I could sit in the back seat with John. We started off the drive with John receiving his Christmas gifts from me: the special art bag with the neck strap that I mentioned full of new art supplies for him to use at home. Kris had also bought him these really cool brush tip felt markers which he was keen to try out and so I pulled out his clipboard and paper I gave him and he practiced writing a couple names of towns/cities that he saw on freeway signs. He said they were easy to use and he was also pretty excited about a paintbrush which I altered so that it was shorter/half the length it originally was and easier for him to use and also a paint roller I had given him which he said would work great for filling in his images. At this point he turned to me and said "Sascha I'm going to paint and make art every day and practice lots and I'll bring my pictures with me to Red Cross when I come back (he will have dressing changes and check-ups there every week for a while) so that you can see all the work I've done." Definitely one of those really profound and rewarding moments where I felt like I had made a big difference in this one little persons life. He now has a skill in which he can be confident about and successful at without the use of his arms, and that makes me incredibly proud and so happy.

The journey continued on. We stopped for lunch at a busy Engen (gas station/store/deli/hamburger joint/rest-stop type place). It was just two days before Christmas so you can well imagine the number of people that were on the road and likewise at the Engen. I realized that this would be his first outing in public outside the hospital since having the amputations and I wasn't sure if he would be ready to face the masses and the stares (especially since during our little field trips to the cafeteria and other floors at the hospital he would insist I either cover his bandaged stumps with a towel or a large dressing gown so as not to be exposed, but on his return home it was just a t-shirt and no cover-up). So I asked if he wanted to come in or wait in the car and to my surprise he wanted to come in and so off we went to order hamburgers, chips, and cokes which we sat and ate in the car (and luckily there weren't too many lingering stares). It was John's first burger and although he seemed to be thoroughly enjoying it, he told me he wanted to save the majority of it so he could share it with his siblings when he got home (who had never had a hamburger either). Truth be told, it was a really terrible burger and I could only stomach a bite, so was happy to donate mine as well. On we went. Christmas Carols were sung by the three of us through a very long tunnel (as opposed to holding our breathes or screaming the whole way), John and I took turns wearing a clown nose for silly photos together, we watched the rolling hills and mountains go by and he commented away about how big and beautiful they were. We looked at clouds and tried to make out animals or objects in them (a game I remember playing as a kid). I spotted a bunny (I think that's what it was) and he found a man, I asked him if he was scared or nervous about going home and he plainly said "No." He asked Kris, "I wonder what it's like in America?" and told us about eating grapes and bringing some grapes back to his friend at the burns unit this week when he returns for dressing changes, as his family lives on a vineyard which his uncle is a day laborer on. We got to the next biggest town closest to the rural town he lives in and he explained that his sister and him often walk from home to the big town (which is 20 km away).

Finally we pulled up to the sign for the farm he lives on and turned onto the bumpy dirt road surrounded by big beautiful grapes on either side. As we approached another road, out popped a curious boy who ran to John's window smiling ear to ear. " My cousin, that's my cousin," said a very delighted John. Kris ushered him to climb in the front seat and show us the way. A bit further along another couple curious children pushing great little funky cars made out of tin cans/bottle caps (for the wheels) and wire for the handles to hold/push them. They followed the car. Men working appeared from behind the grapes. Big toothless grins and lots of waving and shouts of "John, John" ensued. We had arrived, the end of a very rural road and a single cement home. I unstrapped John and the first thing he said was "Where's the hamburgers, we can't forget them." And then there came his Auntie, the primary care-giver (Mum died and I don't think Dad was ever in the picture), followed by siblings, cousins, and Grandma. Partial awkward hugs and pats followed (keep in mind this was the first time all had seen John since his amputations, let alone the accident). Although I knew he was happy to be home, you could just see how overwhelmed John was. As Kris noted, he kind of shrunk into himself and also became very quiet and subdued. I can't begin to imagine the overwhelming mix of emotions that he must of been experiencing during that initial reunion and throughout this transition to being home again. We passed by a sweet little chicken coup and a lovely big garden full of zucchini, into the house, a very basic, but clean and tidy, couple room cement slab housing 7 people. John wanted to show off his paintings and drawings which we showed to the family (the children were particularly interested), followed by looking at photos, his new art supplies, going over medications/instructions, a family photo shoot and some with me. . . and then I felt like it was time for us to go and for all of them to get reacquainted with one another. We said our goodbyes, I gave John a huge hug, reminded him to KEEP PAINTING every day, told him how much I was going to miss him (although I see him tomorrow) and held back my tears (until we got in the car that is).

We pulled off, honking and waving and both Kris and I were struck with what a difficult and truly challenging road and life ahead it will be for my little friend. Not only does he live in an incredibly rural area where there are no services what so ever for physically disabled people (I'm also working here in one of the townships at a pretty amazing school for children who are physically disabled, but there is nothing like this where John lives by any means), the level of poverty the family lives with will surely add to the struggle, to put it in perspective: I saw on his release form that his Uncle is supporting the 7 of them on 1000 R a month, or $150 US dollars, yes a month. He had mentioned to me that some of his siblings and cousins also have to work on the vineyards to help support the families, but for John there isn't this option. Nor will he be able to fend off his siblings should they decide to burrow or take his art supplies. Nor can he go to the bathroom by himself or scratch the incredibly itchy burns/dressings/scars that I've been itching for him for weeks. In fact I was so humbled last week when he asked me to pick some chicken out of his teeth for him, wipe his bottom, rub his nose, get an eyelash out of his eye and so on (you get the picture). It truly is the little things that we take for granted. Believe me when I say I've been counting my blessings every day and likewise saying a daily prayer for John.

It also struck me as we pulled away, that what I have done has added to his quality of life and been been life-changing, yes. . . but it is not enough. As I do have the ways and means and connections to do so much more for this boy who has touched me on such a deep, human, and spiritual level. And so began some brainstorming. An art exhibition of his work and fundraiser to raise money for he and his family, a new Paypal account for him, Kris is going to get in touch with a film friend that makes prosthetic limbs for the movies and then donates them to see if he can't make an arm for John (he has half a limb that could potentially be fitted for a prosthetic) and I also want to get his story out there and am in the process of contacting local papers and magazines in the hope of sharing his inspirational and brave story.

Tomorrow John returns to the Red Cross for a check-up and dressing change. When I looked closely at his release forms in the car I saw that his birth date was Dec. 22, the day before we left, which meant no one (including him) knew that his 12th birthday had come and gone the day before he was released. This wasn't much of a surprise as he told me Father Christmas never comes to his house nor does he get birthday cake or presents on his birthday. So tomorrow we celebrate with birthday cupcakes. I am so anxious and eager to see him, hear how the first 5 days at home and the transition has been, work with him/practice his feet painting, see his new art (fingers crossed he has been able to make some art at home) and share some laughs (this kid has the most infectious laugh ever). I will certainly keep you posted on his progress and the work I continue to do with him in the weeks/months ahead.

Additionally, a little side-note: I was asked on Friday by the head of the burns unit to give a 20 minute presentation on my work with John, his story, and the art therapy interventions at the International Burns Conference here in February. I am both thrilled and honored to do this.

And finally: I've just created a new Paypal account and donate button for William Smith AKA John (I do have permission to use his real name so I guess I can stop calling him John now). The account is titled "William Smith Art Therapy Fundraiser" and 100% of the proceeds will go directly to him and his family should you wish to contribute. It's the "Donate" button on the top and bottom of my blog page, if you would like to help he and his family with his recovery.
My goal right now is to raise roughly 12,000 Rand, which is roughly $1,800 USD, the equivalent to a years salary that William's Uncle supports his family of 7 on.

A Red Cross Christmas Story

A very special Christmas gift this year has come in the form of one of the bravest, most determined and sweetest 11 year old boys I've ever had the pleasure of working with and knowing.

This is a story for the holidays no doubt. It is one of hope, resilience, beauty, and humility.

Side note: As a therapist it is my duty to keep client information confidential. However, this boy who I will call John (pseudonym), his mother, and the staff at Red Cross have agreed and asked that I tell this triumphant tale, including the photographs and artwork. In this way we can share his story of what is only the beginning stages of recovery, in addition to educating others about different ways in which art therapy can be applied and the work that is being done here at the Red Cross Children's Hospital in Cape Town.

A month ago John was admitted to the Burns Unit after being in a horrific electrical fire. The damage to his legs was quite bad, but worse was that to his arms, both of which could not be saved and had to be amputated immediately. As one can well imagine: the trauma, shock, horror and disbelief of such a sudden life altering event led John into a serious depression. The first two weeks I saw John he wouldn't really look or speak to me. He lay helpless, still, and silent in his bed staring off into the distance. I would chat and tell him I was going to draw or paint pictures for him and tell him stories to go with the images. He seemed indifferent but I just kept on and continued to come see and paint for him.

The beginning of last week there seemed to be a slight shift as he spoke a bit to me, watched intently as I worked with the other children in the ward, and was quite curious about what the kids were drawing or painting. I could see the longing in his eyes as his buddy (also the same age) in the bed next to him painted page after page freely and with ease. It had occurred to me when I first saw John that when/if he was ready there was the possibility and potential of my doing art with him in which he could use his mouth (and later feet). However, this was uncharted territory for me and seemed a bit of a daunting task as John and I hadn't established much of a repor yet. At any rate, while sitting next to and working with John's neighbor and seeing I had his attention, I had a sudden urge to demonstrate how to hold a fat marker pen in my mouth and I said "John, watch this," as I put the pen in my mouth and wrote on the paper: "HI JOHN!" I watched as his eyes got big and followed this by asking if he wanted to give it a try. A small shy nod and I knew this was my in. Painstakingly and with sweat dripping down his forehead I held paper on clipboard up for him as he moved the pen with his mouth slowly and wrote just as I had: "Hi John." "Great, no problem right, how bout we try some paint and a paintbrush," and again that same shy nod. A very small rudimentary house is what he painted. His face displayed a whole lot of surprise over his accomplishment. "I knew you could do it and look what you made!" One single smile arose, the first I had seen since meeting him. I tapped his Mother who dozed in a chair next to his bed to show her his work and she began silently weeping as she nodded at me, beamed and carefully put his pictures into her purse. SUCCESS comes in many shapes and sizes.

I returned to the Red Cross yesterday and was unsure how John would react to making art again as he seemed so exhausted and somewhat sad after his last session with me (albeit also surprised and proud). I hoped we could continue where we left off. To my delight as soon as I walked into the ward, he yelled across the room to me, "Hey I'm ready to paint!" 10 drawings/paintings later and I was thrilled to see that each one was more detailed, larger in scale and more vibrant/colorful than the last. Also incredible was the attention that we drew to ourselves and the fact that this was really the first day that both Doctors and Nurses truly recognized not only me as a colleague, an equal and important part of the team but also the work I've been doing there the last 3 months and the value of having art therapy at the hospital. Unfortunately it took something so extreme as a boy with no arms painting for the staff to say "Hey great work, thank you, keep it up, Wow, Amazing, this is profound, he's made huge gains since you saw him last and started working with him, whatever you're doing is working, what's your name again" and so on. However, I'll take it and I wont lie when I say it felt really really good to be SEEN, HEARD and RECOGNIZED, finally.

I worked off and on with John today for 5 hours, with breaks in between as it's hard work making art with your mouth! Long story short (or shorter), today's boy was a completely different person. Confident, outgoing, chatty, enthusiastic, excited, energetic, silly and wanting to paint and draw all day long, which is why I stayed 3 hours longer than my regular shift to continue working with him. That and the fact that he gets released to go home on Friday and I want to spend as much time with him as possible as it is so obvious and apparent how transformative demonstrating and showing him that he can be successful in life and art without the use of his hands/arms has been. I was only meant to work 2 short shifts this week before going on break for the holidays, but have since decided that my Christmas gift to John will be 5 full days of my time, energy and devotion before he is released to go home. The more confidence I can help him to gain, the better off I believe he will be in the real world.

Today was yet another incredible day with my little friend filled with art and play. Bright, colorful, cheerful paintings, leading to John putting the paintbrushes in the water and paints on his own (without my assistance which was a first), excitement about returning to family and home just in time for Christmas, goofy made-up stories about Father Christmas, descriptions of snow and the North Pole, a walk together in the sunshine to the playground to play, racing each other (he's a fast runner this kid), a little field trip through the hospital (and a side trip to the cafeteria to get snacks for John and his buddy), revised games of Memory, Shoots and Ladders, and a puzzle. Reading books together, more drawings, laughter, Popsicles, demonstrating his floor/mat exercises for me, photos, and a whole lot of excitement in the ward about John's new found skills through art therapy.

In addition to seeing the children for art therapy in the burns unit, tomorrow and Thursday I will bring in face paints to paint the children's faces, hands or other skin that isn't burned and dressed. Friday I will play Santa Claus (or Father Christmas as they call it here) and bring in little gifts and clown noses (which I'm going to attempt to get the staff to wear first) that an art therapist friend from Canada sent me after using them in her recent art therapy volunteer work in Haiti post-earthquake. I have put together an extra special gift for John which includes an easily accessible little bag that my Aunt is going to help me sew a neck-strap on that can slip over John's neck. Inside I'm putting 2 art books: one with blank pages the other with lined pages, paints, brushes, large markers and a note from me telling him how he's changed and affected my life and of course encouraging him to keep making art, to continue writing, drawing and sharing with the world the joy he brings others through his beautiful images.

New day/Wednesday: This work and story just keeps getting better. Today I brought in the usual large plastic bowl of art supplies and clipboards with paper and laid them at the bottom of John's bed. Without thinking and quite unconsciously I put the glass jar with paint brushes right next to his feet. As we chatted and talked about what kinds of materials he would like to start with he began grabbing paintbrushes with his toes and moving his feet in little circular motions as if painting. "Ah, ha," I said, "It looks like it's time to give painting with your feet a try!" And that was that, 3 images and the writing of his full name were done with great control, precision, and care. It just so happened that the man who heads up the Paediatric Burns Unit at Red Cross Children's Hospital, came in at this point which was perfect timing. He photographed John, us working together, all his images made to date, documented the work, informally interviewed me about this new intervention, and was extremely impressed. I've been asked to submit a report and case study and the hope is that when I leave Red Cross someone can officially be hired to work with the amputee patients in the Burns Unit in this manner. It appears as though I may just of found my calling. Additionally, the head of the Burns commented on the strong connection that John and I have established and explained to me that it's looking like John will not in fact make it home for Christmas. This is due to the rural area where he lives (approximately 2 hours North of Cape Town), the fact that his family can't get time off from working in the vineyards and has no form of transportation. He wondered if I might like to spend part of Christmas day with him as all the other children will be released from the Burns Unit and he will be all alone without family or friends. Broken hearted, I immediately started brainstorming and asked if permission was granted from family and hospital if I could drive and deliver John home on Christmas Eve day. "Absolutely, that would be incredible," was his answer. Tomorrow morning we will meet with John's social worker to see if it's doable and work out the details. It's looking like it's going to be an incredibly touching Christmas this year.

Wow, what a way to end the year and the first half of my art therapy work in South Africa! So much gratitude and thanks to my little friend who is such a blessing and reminder of all that is beautiful and inspirational in the world this holiday season.

P.S. If you want to make a difference this Christmas, please feel free to donate a monetary amount towards the children I'm doing art therapy with here in South Africa. There is a very user-friendly"donate" paypal button at both the top and bottom of this page, or go directly to the donation page here: https://www.paypal.com/us/cgi-bin/webscr?cmd=_flow&SESSION=f2PoL4AfLwJuTpMOaMbwo8UVKazFrTy9B6eCynslJN5iAupKhZId1Cdg47G&dispatch=5885d80a13c0db1f8e263663d3faee8d9384d85353843a619606282818e091d0. I have spent my own personal money buying art supplies as Christmas gifts for the children at the Red Cross and in the townships that I work with and am also out of disposable cameras (which I would like to continue using in my photo art therapy projects with my clients). Any and all donations will go towards art supplies, programming, and disposable cameras/developing film. Every little bit counts even if it's only $5, and after all it is the season of giving! Thanks in advance and to those especially who have already donated, your money has been put to excellent use and is indeed making a difference! Thank you, thank you.

Art Therapy in the Red Cross Burns Unit

This post is dedicated to one of my favorite clients who I only saw once before he died late last night. May your dreams and after-life be filled with brightly painted pictures sweet sweet boy.

It occurred to me that I've not really written anything specific about my art therapy work here. Sometimes it's just too hard, sad or exhausting to think about it or express it after hours and at the end of the day. But I do want to share some of what I'm seeing, feeling, experiencing, so here's me and some of my clients today at the Burns Unit:

Today I sat with an 11 year old boy with severe electrical burns running the full length of his arms and legs, helping him to paint and express the nightmare that he lived and witnessed in the last week. He has lost the only home he knows to the fire and he is all alone as his family can't afford to take time away from work or make the trip South from the Northern Cape where he is from. He is heavily medicated on morphine for the pain and very withdrawn and depressed. And yet he is happy to paint and with my hand over his small bandaged hand we do so. He laughs when he accidentally gets some green paint on my fingers and I tease him for painting me on purpose. These are the moments I live for.

I hardly notice the distinct smell of burning flesh and antiseptic or the extreme high temperature that they keep the burns unit at so as not to compromise the patients ability to regulate body temperature and maintain fluid balance. Not to mention most of the children with large burns are required to be uncovered and exposed (save for all the dressing/bandages). It is for his reason that it is so HOT and unbearably humid in the burns unit, which doesn't help with the smell. I have adapted to seeing severely disfigured and amputated children. I am able to hold back my tears, unlike the begining when I had to rush off to find a bathroom so I could shed some tears in private. The little babies and the agonizing screaming and crying during the daily dressing changes still gets to me, but not so much as those first early days.

I am proud of myself for being able to go to the hospital each week and sit with these children, to give them art materials and a voice/vehicle/means of telling their incredibly traumatic stories and an outlet. I should note that it's not always heavy or heartbreaking, some days it can be light and fun. Simply playing and enjoying the art materials is a good distraction and a nice escape from the reality of these children spending their days in hospital beds with little to no entertainment.

But today was a bit different. There is one single television in the burns unit room which houses approximately 15 very archaic metal hospital crib type beds and today the above mentioned boy lay watching a movie as I pulled up a chair next to his bed. I immediately noticed from the screams that it was a horror movie and within a matter of minutes there was a huge explosion on the screen and an entire building caught fire and burnt to the ground with a handful of children and adults in it. I honestly couldn't believe that in THIS UNIT the movie playing in front of all these children who have been severely burned in electrical fires, cooking fires, petrol fires, from hot water and so on was a horror movie in which people get trapped and killed in a huge fire. Talk about re-traumatizing the patients. At any rate I immediately went to the nurses on duty, inquired as to the inappropriate nature of the movie and insisted it be turned off. Unfortunately the response I got was that this was the movie the older boy wanted to watch. I explained that sometimes what children want or think they want (especially regarding media) isn't always what's best for them. No response. Some days I feel as though I am just a small man on the totem pole: an art therapist (of which many people here have no idea what this means or what I do) . . . a foreigner. . . from America. . . volunteering my time. . . in a hospital. . . in Africa. . . where there are so many cultural differences. Outnumbered and overridden. At least I know I tried. But it still doesn't take away from the disappointment of not having much of a voice at times, or being heard and the feelings of helplessness that accompany.

As of today I also have a new client. A 9 year old boy dying of a bone disease called Gorhams. I've recently been referred to see patients in the ICU and in other wards. I've had 2 clients die which has been painful to witness, but I've also had 2 patients who have made miraculous recoveries and have been released to go home after being in hospital for the better part of a year. For every tragedy there is also successes and happy endings which I believe is why we all keep coming back and doing this work.

At any rate, back to today's new boy. I was told he doesn't speak or understand any English, which is common. It's typically Xhosa or Afrikaans and this is why I work with a translator/counselor much of the time. However, at the hospital she is also seeing clients simultaneously so I'm typically left on my own with the universally understood body language of sign and gesture if you will. I have to admit that this is one of the biggest challenges of my work here: language barriers. Not so much in the hospital because I'm working with clients 1:1 and much can be conveyed in the art, but in my groups I run in the townships I feel like so much gets lost in translation and that's incredibly frustrating.

Anyways, again back to the boy. I was told he was heavily doped up and in extreme pain, that he most likely wouldn't be able to draw or paint and that I should do art for him as he is too weak and would likely not be able to hold a paintbrush or marker. However, it quickly became apparent that he did understand much of what I was saying and could answer simple/basic questions in English (this is quite common as the children whose first language is Afrikaans learn English in school). So after doing 2 paintings for him and a lot of encouragement on my part I was able to convince him to paint with me, which lead to him painting on his own and a huge sense of accomplishment and pride. Lots of smiles, laughter, joy, and painting after painting followed. Towards the end of our session he painted with one hand, and held my hand with the other. He played with the cuff of my shirt, and stroked my arm. Amazing how powerful human touch can be. When I asked him if he'd like me to come back next week he gripped my hand and adamantly said "No," which surprised me. "Tomorrow," he pleaded. "I wont be here tomorrow." "Please." It totally broke my heart but also deeply touched me. I don't know how much longer he has to live but I sure hope he's there next week so I can do my small part to bring an hour of color to his fading life.

I wrote this entry a week ago today but for some reason didn't post it as I felt it wasn't quite finished. Today would of been the next session with this boy whom I was very excited to see this morning. Last night before bed I thought about Christmas coming and had decided I would use all the pictures and paintings that this child and I would make over this month and I'd put together a book for him. I showed up in his room today with my paints in hand but he was nowhere to be found. They took him home yesterday so he could say his goodbyes to family and be in his own bed. He died last night after years of battling Gorhams Disease. I wish I would of just had a bit more time with him, I wish I could of seen him the following day like he so desperately pleaded for (in retrospect I think he knew his time was near). I wish I could of said goodbye. I wish my heart didn't hurt so much. . . Regardless I am honored to of met him. Thank you for touching my life and for spending some of your last hours with me creating beautiful art. Sweet dreams and rest in peace my little friend.

"My Life" Photo Art Therapy Project Sneak Peek

This is one of my favorite photos from the boys photo art therapy project

I have embarked on my first photo art therapy project with a group of ten boys ages 12-18 who are living in a transitional boys home who have titled the project "My Life." My original thought was that I wanted to give these boys a voice and a way to share their stories with others. I came to Cape Town with a slew of disposable cameras for this very reason and have since put them to great use, giving the boys each one camera with 27 shots and these simple instructions:

Document your life with your camera. Use it as a tool to share your identity and tell your personal story.

I have collaborated with two amazing and inspiring men/artists/entrepreneurs from Zimbabwe who head up an incredible non-profit called Jullard Creations. In their words Jullard Creations "is a collective that empowers people from marginalized communities to generate their own income by producing hand made art & craft using traditional African techniques! This is a youth programme designed specifically to equip and enhance our youth in skills development. We run Creative Entrepreneurial trainings, creative art and craft workshops and product development."

Twice a week we have been meeting and the boys have been taking art classes from Juma and Willard, learning new techniques, working on specific projects as well as making art with me to use and combine with their photographs. This week we are finishing up the final touches on their photographic-art collages and creations and getting them ready to be hung and displayed.

I am thrilled to be apart of the ONE ART, ONE CHILD show and street party fundraiser for youth creativity workshops this coming Saturday at the Word of Art Gallery/Woodstock Industrial. The "My Life" photo art-therapy project will be on display and a variety of the boys photograph collages will be for sale to generate money for the Percy Bartley House where they live. If you're in Cape Town please come out and show your support. There will be plenty of art, live music, food and drink. Here's the link for the invite: http://www.facebook.com/?sk=messages&tid=1581206260907#!/event.php?eid=129605737092602
The boys and I hope to see you there!

A day in the life of Nyanga

My first few commutes (15-30 minutes depending on which route I chose to take) to Nyanga township I was somewhat shocked and awed and also warned and then cautioned some more. It's amazing to me how quickly we adapt to our new environments and then it's all quite normalized (for better or worse). At any rate on most days I quite enjoy my commute to and from the township, and I never cease to be amazed at what I see, loving taking it all in. I've started writing down/listing the amazing and compelling sights and plights of the folks, happenings and animals I pass or interact with on the 3 day a week drive and work in Nyanga and Guguletu. Just to paint a visual for those of you at home or elsewhere in the world:

There's the guys driving old and rickety wooden horse drawn carts. The backs filled with people or garbage, sometimes scrap metal to sell at the scrap metal shops. And then there's the folks (usually 2 to a cart) hastily pushing shopping carts filled to the brim also with scrap metal to sell for a handful of Rand (SA currency). There's the numerous mother's carrying their babies on their backs with towels or thick warm wooly blankets tied tight around their little ones and knotted at the waist, so many goats roaming free and eating huge piles of garbage, horses tied to telephone poles as is clean laundry as there aren't many "yards" per se, many stray dogs, ribs poking out and resembling that of the familiar Mexican beach dog and pigs in pens outside of homes. Men sitting, laying and crouching in trees (often I see the same ones in the same trees on both my drive to and from work). Boys soon to become young men sat huddled today outside their circular black plastic circumcision tent/huts alongside the road (I was wondering how long they have already been there, word is they must stay a month before getting circumcised, leaving their boyhood behind, and becoming men). Construction workers doing some major road work with simple tools (shovels and pick axes for example) as opposed to machines. Men selling whole Snoek (fish) and ladies on the corner selling slaughtered sheep's head or a whole lot of live chickens strung up from their feet, folks selling mounds of nartjies (tangerines) and other fresh produce out the back of a backie (pickup truck) or on the side of the road, my favorite is the one single guy with this cool metal contraption that resembles a Christmas tree that holds mufflers of numerous shapes and sizes. Last week it was full, this week he only had two on there.

The center of Nyanga is colorful and chaotic with it's busy taxi rank, folks running red lights and not obeying any "rules of the road," braai after braii of a whole lot of smoking meat (barbeque, the contraption often made with half a sawed metal oil drum, using wood for flame). Smells of juicy mutton and wood smoke waft through the streets. Turning the corner it's the "shopping district," a long row of shipping containers lining the street all the way to the freeway entrance with just about any and every business imaginable: barber, dentist, corner shop, cafe, mechanic, and so on, all operating out of single metal shipping containers, just as our art therapy space does at the school in Nyanga. At the entrance to the freeway I often see kids happily playing a game of soccer or half naked little ones playing in a drizzle of water just outside the fences that enclose the small make-shift wall to wall shacks (constructed of tin, wood, cardboard, plastic. . . you name it: any material that is available) that make up much of the townships. It's a wild existence and a whole other world, one in which I feel fortunate to be contributing to and working in.

The Real Deal.

Getting Right down to it. . .

Note: This blog post is a few weeks old, but I forgot to post it. Overall, things are looking up and there are some exciting new projects in the works which I will reveal in the next post. But first, let's backtrack some:

Reading over my last two blog posts and after having a conversation with my Aunt last night I can see clearly that nearly everything I wrote about in the previous two posts was so upbeat, chirpy and positive. . . Quite "candy-coated" if you will. I think a number of things were initially going through my head: concern about loved ones at home worrying about me for one and also a need or desire to ease people into what I've been going through in the first month or so. I've realized that a public blog such as this is a first for me and it's tricky and kind of hard in that there's this underlying fear of offending or shocking people. I often find myself wondering how my experiences will be perceived by two very different audiences: those at home versus those here in Cape Town. However, at the end of the day all I can do is try to be honest about as much of it as I feel comfortable with sharing . . time to get REAL.

The last 6 weeks have been a complete emotional roller-coaster on so many levels, filled with many ups (which I've listed and talked about in previous posts) and equally as many downs. Initial culture shock, trying to adjust to another new and big city, realizing how dependent I am on my Aunt and Uncle (as I'm primarily volunteering/working for peanuts here), and feelings of lonliness and isolation all followed. Finding that once again it takes a lot of time and energy to make new connections/friends in a place you have none, which ultimately leads to missing one's own friends and family. This topped with crashing the Aunt's car into the Uncle's truck bumper (and majorly denting it up good) upon my first attempt at backing out the driveway certainly didn't help matters during the "readjustment" period. All I can say is that it's a good thing I'm a seasoned traveler, have done enough international volunteer work to know it's not always "ideal" circumstances and have moved before to new countries and cities, which is all a good reminder of how normal all these overwhelming feelings and emotions can be, but to also know that this too shall pass.

In terms of my art therapy work, let's just say it became quite apparent real quickly that the experience I have here will be in large part what "I" make of it. Prior to arriving I had all these dreams, notions, hopes and ideas of how the work I'm doing would get started here. My thinking was: plenty of training, appropriate preparations, and lots of support while in the the process of starting out. Perhaps these were somewhat idealistic and unrealistic expectations. At any rate I realized very quickly that I'm basically on my own (although I do have a translator I'm working with) and was for the most part dropped into Nyanga township and the Red Cross Children's Hospital to figure it all out for myself, with little to no real supervision. I understand that on many levels this is the best type of learning experience and often the quickest way to adapt and get into a groove, but it isn't always the easiest way, that's for sure. And, it doesn't take away from the initial shock I went through of suddenly being and working in the townships. After day 1 in Nyanga (and day 2 in Cape Town: still completely jet-lagged) I witnessed the aftermath of extreme violence between 2 children. While in Nyanga I tried to act like it was no big deal as I knew this would be one of the realities of day to day life that I would come into contact with. But when I came home I was a little more traumatized than I initially thought. I cried and sobbed to the Aunt who listened and asked if I was sure I could and wanted do this and then insisted on wine and sushi which certainly helped but didn't take away from that one big question looming overhead: CAN I DO THIS?

The following week I went to my first memorial service for one of our students (aged 14) who died outside one of the schools I'm working at in a gang related altercation. I think it was at this point that it really finally hit me in terms of what exactly I had signed up for and what followed was a conversation with myself in which I really started questioning what the hell I'm doing here, really. . . and why. By that I mean: there are so many people in my own country that I could be helping and doing art therapy with. Wondering to myself at times why I had to come all the way to Africa and into the townships to do this work?!? However, in my heart of hearts and for those of you who know me well, the reality is that's just not who I am or how I work. Volunteer work on an international scale, a challenge, working with those less fortunate, making my own small difference in the world, combined with travel, culture, and art is how I prefer it. It's not always easy but in the end the experience is just that much richer. . . for better or worse, I'm here for the 8 month duration. In the thick of it and trying to make my way.

Weeks 2-5: Catching up.

My intention was to do a weekly blog, and while I'd still like to I don't know how realistic that is, primarily because internet access is limited. I'm thinking bi-weekly will probably work best. That being said, it's going on 5 weeks and I've yet to post these last 2 entries.

The main reason I haven't posted yet is because it was school holidays for a couple weeks and my work hadn't really started yet. This week is my first "official" week of doing art therapy in Nyanga township and at the Red Cross Children's Hospital. In the interest of time and space, I've simply compiled a list of some of the highlights from the last few weeks in and around Cape Town (in no particular order) which primarily consist of sight-seeing and family gatherings. I'm sure I will have much to report on once my art therapy work really gets going. . . but in the meantime:

I made my first ostrich curry.

Went to a funky weekend flea market and got a huge bag of stamps from around the world to use in my art therapy practice and to make some more postcards (thanks Auntie).

Adventures in food, or the Meat-fest if you will. . . meaning I experienced my first and second braais (South African BBQ) with family both new and old. Giant prawns of varying types and colors, lamb, chicken skewers, boerewors (a delicious long coiled sausage), a whole chicken, ostrich, and calf's kidneys.

Planted a slew of native trees with students at their school in the Nyanga township for an amazing project done through GreenPop: http://greenpop.org/ I plan to plant more trees with GreenPop soon.

Wine tasting for Uncle Ken's birthday in the breathtaking wine region of Stellenbosch. Wine and chocolate pairing=deliciousness.

A weekend with the cousin, Stellenbosch Botanical Gardens, scenic strolls past incredible colonial houses and an uber-cute downtown.

First taste of Amarula: South African liqueur, Amarula Cream is made from the exotic Marula fruit.

Beach walks and lots of dog walks through wildflowers across the street from home.

Stumbled upon an outdoor pool at the Oude Mullen Eco Village close to home that I fully intend to take advantage of this summer. First swim at the scenic Sea Point outdoor pool overlooking the ocean.

Fish and chips and beer with Maggie on the water of Caulk Bay. Waves crashing up and through the windows and into the restaurant (part of the charm).

Western Cape Wildlife Park visit with Granny Berg and Aunt Kris: wildflower drive and wildlife viewing which included: flamingos, ostrich, 9 tortoise (1 which was dead which we attempted to bring home for the shell. Bad idea, 2 words: stench and maggots), bock (South African antelope), kudu, zebra, buffalo, and a variety of other bird species whose names I can't recall.

Art, Art, Art: art openings, art shows, art auctions, art gallery (the South African National Art Gallery) and an art therapy workshop (last week was THE week of ART)!

A stunning drive up the Eastern Cape Coast which included Ruby's beach penguins, hundreds of them, oceanside picnic, right back whales, zebra and dassies (a funny little rodent that looks like a cross between a rat, guinnea pig, rabbit, and tasmanian devil).

Planted garden containers with my women's group. Tomatoes, lettuce, spinach, and beets. Worked in the main garden with the children in my Wednesday art therapy group, harvested veggies from the garden and together, the women, children, Zanelle (the counselor and translator I'm working with) and we made a huge pot fresh veggie/bean/samp (dried corn kernels that have been stamped and chopped until broken) soup which fed 20 of us.

Spent a day cleaning up and clearing the front yard with Uncle Ken which made way for the veggie garden I planted. Only problem is that now that it's warming up and the sun is so strong, my poor little basil are wilting in the heat.

Arrival in Cape Town. Week 1!

I am here, AFRICA, SOUTH AFRICA, CAPE TOWN to be exact! I made it.

My Aunt and Uncle have been beyond amazing in welcoming me, making me feel at home, taking care of me, feeding me delicious food, introducing me to friends and family and also allowing me time and space to adjust and get acquainted to my new life here. I have the sweetest little "gecko cottage" (Kris' name for my guesthouse living quarters) that they have done a great job of fixing up. I feel so incredibly lucky to be here with family. For sure I could not of done it otherwise.

And now. . . for the real stuff: today was my introduction to Nyanga township where I will be doing my art therapy work. Nyanga is both the oldest, poorest and most dangerous township in Cape Town. The Community Arts Therapy Programme has been operating out of a shipping container on St. Andrew's primary school grounds in Nyanga for the last 12 years and today I caught my first glimpse of the township life. I can not begin to express how humbled I am at this very moment. No amount of reading or movies or life-experience or past international volunteer work or travel to impoverished third world countries or conversations or psycing of oneself up can truly prepare you for the reality of what this work and world looks like. It just doesn't and I knew that coming into this. But to experience it, witness it through my work on a daily basis is entirely different and it's going to take some serious time, space and patience to adjust.

I am currently having an inner struggle with "how much is too much" to share in this blog. While I want to be honest in sharing my experiences of what working in the Nyanga township is all about, I also don't want to spend too much time writing about the poverty, crime, and violence that exists. . . you know, all the good old media-worthy "shock-value" type stuff. I also don't want to paint the wrong or an "ugly" picture of what life is like in South Africa or Cape Town, which might I add is an incredibly dynamic, breathtaking and amazing city. And so, it is for all these reasons mentioned that I don't think I will go into the intense details about day 1 because, well it was just a day, the first day at that. I am still terribly jet-lagged, and am also processing and taking it all in.

I will say that it was beyond eye-opening and on many levels totally heartbreaking. However, there is also so much beauty to bear witness too and precious moments to cherish that certainly counteract the heaviness, and that is the gift that I'm taking with me today.

And so as a good reminder to myself of what and why I am here, I will leave you with those sweet moments in time: A young woman, a mother, HIV+, with her sweet chattering toddler at her feet, playing with Mum's shoelaces, delicately weaves her needle in and out of felt, beading a brilliant pink protea (the South African national flower) while humming the sweetest song in xhosa. A homeade birthday cake decorated with a huge car on a road, complete with bridge. He turned 8 and although he doesn't smile at all, his 8 little buddies laugh and sing and clap "happy birthday" in the xhosa language and then "how old are you now, how old are you now," in English. And at last when he blew out the candles. . . a single smile, but just the one (I truly hope his wish comes true). A tour of the school's community garden that I will be helping and working in when not running art therapy groups and my utter amazement that you can grow anything "in sand" as opposed to rich dirt/soil. I've never seen such healthy looking beets before, really. And the little garden fences made out of upside down wine bottles stuck in the ground are awesome (I'm definitely going to take that idea home with me). Tell ya what, South Africans really know how to turn recycling into amazing art and crafts.

In the following weeks I will train more and have my first day at the Red Cross Children's hospital burn unit which I'm sure will be equally if not more shocking and challenging. Stay tuned. . .

The city and surrounding area of Cape Town is quite stunning. The beaches and coastline in particular are incredibly beautiful (as you'll gather from the FB photos, if you peep them), loving the exotic wildlife (to me that is), and there's no shortage of fun tourist stuff to do during the weekends and holidays. My Aunt Kris had a bit of free time in between working on movies so she spent a couple days driving me up and down the coastline. Chapmans Peak drive took us from one charming beach town to the next. And I loved that in a matter of minutes you can go from viewing the Atlantic Ocean to the Indian Ocean and am excited to swim in both this summer, although I hear the Indian is relatively warmer.

That about wraps up week 1, now to catch up on a post for weeks 2 and 3, 4 and 5. . .

Art for Africa Complete. . . and onto Phase 2: Extended Visa

ART FOR AFRICA FUNDRAISER EVENT: JULY 17TH: STAVER LOCOMOTIVE WAREHOUSE

And so it begins, my journey towards South Africa that is. The "AFA" event was a great success on many levels and I owe it all to the participating artists, musicians, friends and family that came out and showed their love and support for an amazing cause. I was truly impressed and inspired by the level of creative energy in that big warehouse and loved gazing upon such beautiful art while hearing an assortment of sweet tunes that ranged from African drumming to violin to folk and back again. Thank you all for coming out and donating towards the Community Arts Therapy Programme that I will be working with in Cape Town, SA in just 6 weeks time (count down is on)! When all was said and done we raised over $2,000 from the evening! I will be sure to keep you posted as to what types of programming and art supplies this will go towards once I land in Africa! Not much else to report, except next week I get a physical and TB test in preparation for getting my VISA. Exciting stuff.

P.S. As of today, I just posted an album of 200 photos from the Art for Africa evening. Be sure to see them here: http://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=583770781#!/album.php?aid=192962&id=521758120&ref=mf

And one more side-note: If you couldn't make it out to the event but still would like to donate, it's not too late. Simply click on the "Donate" Paypal link on the top or bottom of this blog! Art therapy in South Africa thanks you kindly and so do I!

ANTICIPATING AFRICA AND. . . . GEARING UP FOR the ART FOR AFRICA FUNDRAISING EVENT

It's official: I've landed myself the Art Therapy internship of my dreams just outside Cape Town, South Africa and will be leaving the beginning of Sept. for 6-8 months. I will be located at the Community Arts Therapy programme in Nyanga, Western Cape South Africa and will be spending my days working with children in and from the local township schools, in the children's burn unit of the local Red Cross hospital, and running a group for mother's (many of them HIV+). Additionally I will be taking over the children's gardening project and hope to also introduce some phototherapy techniques into my art therapy practice. I will be bringing art materials/supplies and disposable cameras and am currently looking for any contributions either art wise or monetarily. In July I will be throwing a big Fundraising event which will be an evening of live music, arts, crafts, food, drink, and merriment. Stay tuned for details. In the meantime, check out the website and the links for the Community Arts Therapy Programme where I will be and keep up with my going-ons here: http://www.cath.co.za/index.php

I have been back in Portland now for nearly a month and have settled into my sweet little summer abode for all of what will be 3 months before departure for Cape Town.

The Art for Africa Event is well under way and has really taken on a life of it's own. If you don't already know about it. . . you should, it's going to be quite the party. . . complete with 6 music acts, 2 African drummers, 20-25 artists selling their work at the art fair portion of the evening and donating a portion of the proceeds to the cause, an art-making table (send a message/image to the children of South Africa on a prayer flag), delicious South African food provided by Mum's Kitchen, beer/wine, a desert bar, bonfire, dancing and all-round merriment:

WHAT: ART FOR AFRICA FUNDRAISER
WHEN: SATURDAY JULY 17th
TIME: 7-11 PM
WHERE: STAVER LOCOMOTIVE WAREHOUSE 2537 NW 29th AVE
PORTLAND, OREGON 97210
FACEBOOK INVITATION: http://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=644948302#!/event.php?eid=128138043878465&ref=ts

I have just added a Paypal button/link on this blog for those that can't attend
the event but would like to donate to the Community Arts Therapy
Programme that I am raising money for.
Simply click the "Donate" button on the top or bottom of my blog page for easy donating through Paypal!