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.