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.