Thursday, November 29, 2007
GRanny is better than all of us!!
NAIROBI (Reuters) - Skinny and gap-toothed, her nose smudged with black dust, grandmother Kanotu Mumo sorts charcoal into small pots for sale on the stoop of her slum hut.
Mumo is an "AIDS granny" in Kibera, one of Africa's biggest slums. Like grandmothers all over Africa, they have been left to fend for orphans after their own children and husbands died.
Her hut, stacked with sacks of charcoal, measures 10 by 8 feet and is too dark to see more than a few inches even in the middle of the day.
Somehow she shelters four grandchildren, two great grandchildren and the child of a dead relative, who sleep on mattresses and two beds. There is no toilet or running water.
According to U.N. figures, at least 12 million children in Africa have lost one or both parents because of AIDS. This is 80 percent of all AIDS orphans in the developing world.
The number of orphans in Africa has increased by 50 percent since 1990 while falling in other regions. The United Nations says there will be 53 million by 2010, some 30 percent of them bereaved by AIDS.
The burden of this disaster is borne by extended families, most often grandmothers, who might have otherwise dreamed of returning to their home villages for retirement at the end of a tough life.
Kanotu Mumo moved to Kibera, home to 800,000 people, when her husband died about 25 years ago in eastern Kenya. "I can't remember. It has been so long. When my husband died the relatives threw me out and sold the land."
Unlike many of the grandmothers, doleful and worn down by their fate, Mumo smiles and jokes. She says she cannot remember her age. As she talks, two teenage granddaughters come and go.
Her story is typical of the everyday tragedies of Kibera. Two daughters and a son died of AIDS. Another son was stoned to death by a mob after he was caught stealing. "I am embarrassed to talk about it but it was due to the unemployment."
She lives close to the railway line that runs through the sprawling slum, acting both as a pedestrian thoroughfare and place for traders to lay out shoes and clothes.
She sells her charcoal -- the slum's primary fuel -- for a few shillings profit, after buying from a nearby wholesaler who carries it to her hut.
SCHOOL
Like other grandmothers interviewed by Reuters, Kanotu Mumo comes to the Stara school in Kibera to clean twice a week. Their grandchildren attend the school and are fed from huge vats of steaming maize porridge and beans.
The project, supplied and funded by Dutch charity ChildsLife International, the U.N. World Food Programme and Kenyan aid agency Feed the Children, was started seven years ago by a group of Kibera mothers, after friends died and left them to look after their children.
The school on the edge of Kibera houses more than 500 lively children, 70 percent of them orphans, dressed in green uniforms.
More than 30 of the children are HIV positive and receive anti-retrovirals from a nearby clinic in the slum, supplied against vouchers from the school.
The small size of the premises means classes are noisy and overcrowded, with up to 80 children of mixed ages. The school, headed by dynamic Kibera resident Josephine Mumo, has proven skilful in raising support.
Singer Harry Belafonte, Barbara Bush, mother of President George W. Bush, and actress Drew Barrymore have been backers.
Without their grandmothers and projects such as Stara, many more orphans in Kibera and elsewhere would end up as glue-sniffing street children or child prostitutes.
Josephine Mumo says that when the mothers started the school, they brought in children who had been raped as they went door-to-door begging for food.
SURVIVE FOR THE CHILDREN
Many of the grandmothers are themselves weakened by HIV as well as old age, making it even harder for them to feed their charges.
Peris Owuor, 50, is a Kibera grandmother looking after seven grandchildren. "Sometimes my body does not feel good and I cannot go to look for food," she said.
Owuor, whose husband died of AIDS in 1998, washes clothes to make money, at 150 Kenya shillings ($2.25) a day, and tries to help feed her three surviving children who have no jobs.
"But when my body is not good I just have to stay at home."
Another grandmother, Antonina Mujenge, also HIV positive, cares for five of her own children and four grandchildren. She also sells charcoal.
"I try to look after them like other children but it is very difficult because of my low income. Sometimes there is not enough for all of them," she said.
"My main aim is to stay around long enough to make sure the kids can get an education and find jobs," said Mujenge, who has lived in Kibera for 20 years.
She would love to return to her village in western Kenya. "But I am an outcast at home. They say I can infect others. I cannot go back."
Grace Atema, 65, looks after three grandchildren and her daughter, mother of two of them. She washes clothes twice a week to raise money.
"I put everything I get towards the children. But I worry what would happen if I died. How would they survive?" she said.
Mumo is an "AIDS granny" in Kibera, one of Africa's biggest slums. Like grandmothers all over Africa, they have been left to fend for orphans after their own children and husbands died.
Her hut, stacked with sacks of charcoal, measures 10 by 8 feet and is too dark to see more than a few inches even in the middle of the day.
Somehow she shelters four grandchildren, two great grandchildren and the child of a dead relative, who sleep on mattresses and two beds. There is no toilet or running water.
According to U.N. figures, at least 12 million children in Africa have lost one or both parents because of AIDS. This is 80 percent of all AIDS orphans in the developing world.
The number of orphans in Africa has increased by 50 percent since 1990 while falling in other regions. The United Nations says there will be 53 million by 2010, some 30 percent of them bereaved by AIDS.
The burden of this disaster is borne by extended families, most often grandmothers, who might have otherwise dreamed of returning to their home villages for retirement at the end of a tough life.
Kanotu Mumo moved to Kibera, home to 800,000 people, when her husband died about 25 years ago in eastern Kenya. "I can't remember. It has been so long. When my husband died the relatives threw me out and sold the land."
Unlike many of the grandmothers, doleful and worn down by their fate, Mumo smiles and jokes. She says she cannot remember her age. As she talks, two teenage granddaughters come and go.
Her story is typical of the everyday tragedies of Kibera. Two daughters and a son died of AIDS. Another son was stoned to death by a mob after he was caught stealing. "I am embarrassed to talk about it but it was due to the unemployment."
She lives close to the railway line that runs through the sprawling slum, acting both as a pedestrian thoroughfare and place for traders to lay out shoes and clothes.
She sells her charcoal -- the slum's primary fuel -- for a few shillings profit, after buying from a nearby wholesaler who carries it to her hut.
SCHOOL
Like other grandmothers interviewed by Reuters, Kanotu Mumo comes to the Stara school in Kibera to clean twice a week. Their grandchildren attend the school and are fed from huge vats of steaming maize porridge and beans.
The project, supplied and funded by Dutch charity ChildsLife International, the U.N. World Food Programme and Kenyan aid agency Feed the Children, was started seven years ago by a group of Kibera mothers, after friends died and left them to look after their children.
The school on the edge of Kibera houses more than 500 lively children, 70 percent of them orphans, dressed in green uniforms.
More than 30 of the children are HIV positive and receive anti-retrovirals from a nearby clinic in the slum, supplied against vouchers from the school.
The small size of the premises means classes are noisy and overcrowded, with up to 80 children of mixed ages. The school, headed by dynamic Kibera resident Josephine Mumo, has proven skilful in raising support.
Singer Harry Belafonte, Barbara Bush, mother of President George W. Bush, and actress Drew Barrymore have been backers.
Without their grandmothers and projects such as Stara, many more orphans in Kibera and elsewhere would end up as glue-sniffing street children or child prostitutes.
Josephine Mumo says that when the mothers started the school, they brought in children who had been raped as they went door-to-door begging for food.
SURVIVE FOR THE CHILDREN
Many of the grandmothers are themselves weakened by HIV as well as old age, making it even harder for them to feed their charges.
Peris Owuor, 50, is a Kibera grandmother looking after seven grandchildren. "Sometimes my body does not feel good and I cannot go to look for food," she said.
Owuor, whose husband died of AIDS in 1998, washes clothes to make money, at 150 Kenya shillings ($2.25) a day, and tries to help feed her three surviving children who have no jobs.
"But when my body is not good I just have to stay at home."
Another grandmother, Antonina Mujenge, also HIV positive, cares for five of her own children and four grandchildren. She also sells charcoal.
"I try to look after them like other children but it is very difficult because of my low income. Sometimes there is not enough for all of them," she said.
"My main aim is to stay around long enough to make sure the kids can get an education and find jobs," said Mujenge, who has lived in Kibera for 20 years.
She would love to return to her village in western Kenya. "But I am an outcast at home. They say I can infect others. I cannot go back."
Grace Atema, 65, looks after three grandchildren and her daughter, mother of two of them. She washes clothes twice a week to raise money.
"I put everything I get towards the children. But I worry what would happen if I died. How would they survive?" she said.
unexpected letter..
Dearest Tara,
When first our relationship began, when we treaded into new waters and became infatuated with one another, I felt truly happy, like I was finally becoming whole again, a feat that I never felt that I’d be able to accomplish. I loved the fact that we could spend almost the whole week together for the last few weeks of Upward Bound, that we shared a room and had so many accepting friends of our relationship. I felt so incredibly happy then… Which makes this all the harder for me- to lose that happiness, and perhaps our friendship with my next words.
My vision has slowly begun to clear, and the fog of happiness is dissipating. These past few weeks have really tried my emotions and I can’t take the overload. You’re too innocent… ignorant, for lack of better words, for me. Our first kiss was a phenomenal experience for me, I loved it… loved you. We grew bolder and allowed our hands to roam for the first time in my own bedroom. Feeling you squirm beneath me…. Writhing in pleasure and begging for more, it excited me to no end. I loved taking you over the edge each and every time. And each time I was left to wallow without having been satisfied, while you slept so very peacefully while I pretended that you had satiated me. Now don’t get me wrong, this is not about bad sex or anything, it’s about a loss of feelings…
I don’t really know how long I’ve felt this way- that our relationship was becoming sour, and I’ve no want to hurt you or anything thereof, but the truth of the matter is- I have. I’ve felt caged in, unloved, more like a tool for sex than anything else. I know that for quite some time now I’ve felt that all you want from me is for me to satisfy you and only you. I guess this weekend really sealed the deal, you left while I was sleeping- a time that I really needed for rest. You didn’t understand my side of it, the fact that I’ve been home and dealing with a lot of crap lately. How tired I was, how ill I felt, and the fact that my legs hurt me so bad that I’ve practically got to walk sideways. All you wanted was fun for you. And when I wouldn’t give you that you left. You just left me there and I can’t tell you how abandoned I felt at the time. It’s made me realize that us- our relationship… Just hasn’t been working out the way that I wanted it to.
When you’re sad or upset- I do my best to comfort you, to wipe away your tears of sorrow and to make you feel better. I listen to everything that you have to say, and I cheer you up as fast as I can. But I’ve noticed, when I’ve descended into the deepest of sorrows, you aren’t there. It’s as if you don’t care for my pain, my feelings, and my very existence. I’ve been through so much lately, and in the past that I just can’t take it anymore.
Did you know that when I was younger I was raped? That I was abused by my uncle? I’ve no doubt that you don’t, because either I’ve never been able to find a time to tell you, or because you’ve forgotten since it seems such a trivial matter to most. Not many seem to understand how I feel, not even many of my closest friends. I try though… I try to smile brightly for them, for you. I do my best to put on a brave front every day. But my emotions have been so far tried that I can’t take it anymore. I’ve already broken down, perhaps because of the demon that preys on me when I’m alone, when I’ve fallen deep into the pit of sorrow and helplessness. And yet you’ve not shown a single ounce of caring. Every night that I’m there, you ask that I hold you until you fall asleep. And yet I ask- who holds me until I fall asleep? Who is there when I can’t take life? Who comforts me when I’m so far lost to grief that I curl up in a corner and cry until I can’t cry anymore? Nobody does. Not even you. And I’ve begun to realize that- my totally hopeless situation. It’s quite obvious that I’m not supposed to find someone who will make me truly happen, though I wish for it every day nonetheless. I beg and plead for something that is not to be.
I’ve been so very miserable lately and you’ve given it no notice. Instead, when I start to speak of my troubles, you suddenly bring up how much you hate your job, and almost anything else. If you must hate me, then so be it. I’ve done my best to make you happy and it’s only serving to stress me out more and draw me back down into the pit of depression.
There is no second chance with this relationship, but, in the best possible way, I hope that we can still be really good friends even if we lose our intimacy.
Deidra.
A/N: So, yeah, this is a letter that I sent to my ex. To explain a few things- yes I dated a woman. Is it so terrible to be bi-sexual or even gay? I don't think so. It doesn't make us any more of a sin than any other human being on this planet. Anyway, most of the things in this letter were things that I wrote while depressed and highly stressed due to my homelife... Some of it I didn't mean. The reason I'm putting this up here is because I thought that though it's a personal letter, it is oddly well written, and I wanted other opinions on it. Please, if you're against gay or bi-sexual individuals and want to flame me, don't do it. I respect distasteful replies written in highly tasteful fashion. Thank you.
haha!!Beware of stranger or they will strangle you later!!This is the group tt i have created in facebook!!I am so proud of it when i know tt 10 people have join it!!I feel elated because I am going to Penang tomorrow!!
This a a pic of genting replica!!The late Lim Goh Tong really inspired me to create succession in life!!he was a mentor to many highly professional businessman/woman..
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