Today, Wednesday July 1

st, was a tough but rewarding day, like many we experience here in Lesotho. We spent the morning at the Baylor College of Medicine/Bristol Meyers-Squibb-sponsored pediatric HIV/AIDS clinic and the afternoon at a textile factory, both in the capital city of Maseru. We know the statistics about HIV here in Lesotho—anywhere from 24 to 30 percent of the population is infected with HIV. Every guest lecturer cites the statistic and virtually every time Lesotho is mentioned in the literature, the seeming tag line “with one of the highest HIV rates in the world” is mentioned along side of it. The group realizes that at least 2 out of every 5 Basotho whom we’ve met are likely infected. But those are just statistics. Spending the morning at the Baylor clinic, where we sponsored a carnival for children receiving treatment, brought us face-to-face with children with HIV/AIDS. There was no guessing—no cool, clinical statistic to hide behind. Every single child we met and played with today is living with varying states of the disease on a daily basis. The Baylor clinic serves 4,000 children with HIV/AIDS and their families. The mission is to promote compliance with the complicated dosing schedule of ARV (anti-retrovirus) medications. Children under 10 years learn that they have a “bad guy” in their bodies. Their T-cells are the soldiers and the ARVs are the super heroes, so it’s important to take the super hero medication to keep the bad guy asleep and the only way to do it is to take the medications on time. Our goal today was simple: Give these children a few hours of fun. We had soccer balls, Frisbees, sidewalk chalk, a jump rope, coloring books and crayons, temporary tattoos (very popular—even with the moms and grandmas accompanying the children!) beanbag toss and, of course, bubbles. The children loved it. So did we. We played, and played and laughed and, yes, cried a bit.

My little friend—probably about 18 months to 2 years old—didn’t speak English and laughed at my Sesotho. We drew pictures with sidewalk chalk, tried the bubbles (they scared her), and mostly sat quietly playing patty cake and making faces. She tried to catch my tongue when I stuck it out and she liked my long hair. I liked her laugh, which came easily and frequently. She tired very easily and briefly fell asleep in my arms. I looked at her sleeping and couldn’t help wondering how long she will live (most HIV infected children in Lesotho do not live past five years of age) and realized her mother must have the same thoughts. I am very privileged to have my daughter, Nora (age 16) accompanying me on this trip. As I held this little child, I watched my beautiful, healthy daughter play with a group of children. It was so sad and so beautiful at the same time, with so many conflicting emotions; guilt and gratitude are the two that come readily to mind. When she woke up, she scurried down out of my lap, and walked back into the crammed waiting room to her awaiting grandmother, who had been watching us the entire time. The grandmother hugged me and thanked me in Sesotho, scooped up her little charge and walked away. I hope that I was able to give the child some fun and a new sort of attention and the grandmother a brief break from a long day of waiting.

Shifting gears, we spent the afternoon touring a Chinese-owned textile factory, which produces denim products for Levis, Walmart and K-Mart. Our tour guide, one of the main executives at the plant, explained that fully 99% of the products made in the plant are bound for the U.S. He explained that at this time last year, the plant employed 10,000 workers, but is now down to 4,000 (up from a low of 3,000) due to the financial crisis in the U.S. and around the world. So closely bound to the U.S. economy is the textile economy in Lesotho, that he explained, “If the U.S. gets a cold, we (Lesotho) sneeze.”

It was no accident that we were allowed to tour this plant, as it is considered the “model” plant in Lesotho, with “green” initiatives such as a water reclamation project. I couldn’t help wondering what “full capacity” would look like at this plant, since it seemed very congested and busy. We were warned prior to the tour not to engage in conversation with the workers and not to let them “pose” for our pictures, because it would take away from their production. Nonetheless, they were happy to see us and asked us where we were from, as they did their piece work (they have 40 seconds to sew both inseams of a pair of jeans and it should take no longer than 16 minutes to produce a pair of jeans with a total production cost of $4 US, minus washing and drying—some in ascetic acid and lava rock for that stone washed look).

I was so proud of our students for asking tough questions of the plant executive. They asked about wages ($120 per month), maternity leaves, gender issues, worker morale and much more. When asked about worker morale, the plant executive said that he would never want to do a job like the floor jobs in the factory and that it is not good for anyone to have to do that sort of job. He closed with, “But somebody has to…” I think you can only imagine the pall that fell over our group after that comment.

It was a quiet drive back to Thorns this afternoon after a very emotional day. Sitting “shot gun,” I was required to DJ and pick selections from someone’s iPod. This is quite the pressure job for a 44-year-old woman with 16 college students in back of her, waiting for the next “good” song. I kept lamenting the fact that I didn’t recognize half of the artists on this iPod and shuffling through songs when, from the back of the bus I heard my daughter yell, “Geez, Mom! Would you just pick a song and stick with it already!!” I had tears in my eyes when I told my healthy daughter—whose only problem in the

A pair of jeans we saw through production

The most beautiful picture of the day

world at that moment was an uncool mom—to stuff it.

Sarah Kelly