Back when I had
“Save-the-World Syndrome” (circa 2001-ish), a British development agency brave
enough to hire me, allocated me to a decaying, under-resourced, over-populated,
rural hospital in an undeclared war-zone, serving an estimated population of
250,000 scattered, primarily Zulu-speaking peoples, with a 42.6 % HIV
prevalence rate (*in simple English, that means almost 1 in 2 people were
living—more so dying—due to
HIV-related illnesses); high incidences of TB and Malaria—with a side of
Cholera and Diabetes (Thanks, Col.
Sanders!) A destination where no South African dare visit, much less work or
live (by choice.) Otherwise known as the mountain-nest village of Hlabisa, “my
home”, for 2 years.
 |
| Blowing bubbles...always a crowd-pleaser in the children's ward |
Aside from two dog-nappings
(*for the record, the Zulu Mafia helped me get the dogs back! Siyabonga!);
death threats; Sangoma-delivered pythons; hospital administration corruption;
the car-jackings (*they even car-jacked an AMBULANCE! WTF?!); the random but consistent local
violence and crime (*especially on “Pay Day” and nights of a Full Moon);
constant ego-wars amongst burned-out, over-worked medical staff; village
politics and mini-wars between families; the international and domestic press
buzzing around Hlabisa like flies on caca;
and of course, the daily threats of exposure to HIV, malaria, tuberculosis, muti
(Zulu “Black Magic”) AND cholera, Marcos and I created a “cozy” home for
ourselves (as well as two “rescue” dogs, Boo! and Paco), and maintained a highly
creative, relatively comfortable life amid what might resemble Hell to the
average person.
As Development
Director of a small, local nonprofit community-based organization (*started by
a few concerned foreign doctors and locals), I quickly learned that one cannot
simply “address” basic primary healthcare (much less a whole HIV/TB/Malaria
epidemic!) and rural development issues anywhere
without addressing local, regional and national economics, politics, education,
history, public infrastructure, water and sanitation, agriculture, gender
issues, religion and well, Mother Nature.
We had no access to
AIDS treatment options back in the early 2000’s, so the only health care
options for people living with HIV/AIDS at the time (*throughout most of the world,
I might add) were a mixture of limited “band-aid” drugs and some antibiotics;
holistic therapies by local traditional healers; the prayers of family and
shaman/church; decent nutrition; and improved living conditions—if we were
lucky. So, basically, I was trying to respond to a local epidemic (which was
part of a larger pandemic), with limited access to medications as well as human
resources (you know, like doctors and nurses!); limited choices in food (they
don’t have Trader Joe’s out in the bush!); poor water and sanitation systems;
poor living conditions in general and high levels of stress and unemployment. Several
villages I visited were populated solely with grandmothers and (orphaned)
children—the adults were dead, in the process of dying or fled the villages for
jobs in the city. Therefore, my primary
health care team of community-based caregivers consisted of 28 Zulu
Grandmothers and four Grandfathers.
 |
| Passing out home-based care supplies to my Zulu Grandmothers (and four Grandfathers!) |
Out of desperation,
I started researching holistic and alternative therapies and treatments—everything
from Ayurveda to yoga. I actively
participated in this research, explaining to my Zulu neighbors that I was
“praying in motion” when they discovered me practicing yoga in their cornfield. I asked my staff of Grandmothers to create a
master list of all the indigenous fruits, veggies, medicinal plants and herbs
in the entire region—this MASTER FOOD/PLANT LIST quickly became our health-bible.
*For example, the
indigenous tea, rooibos (known sometimes as “Red Bush” tea in the States)
contains powerful anti-cancer antioxidants; is high in minerals and good for
circulation; helps absorb iron; relieves upset stomach; and repairs several
skin infections—who knew?! *Scientists
now confirm that drinking rooibos tea regularly can protect against a process
known as “lipid peridoxation” which is directly linked to Alzheimer’s and
Parkinson’s disease.
 |
| Rooibus (or Red Bush) Tea |
“What is a
dagga?” I asked one of my Zulu
Grandmothers and pointed at her list of local plants. She said something I
could not understand (in Zulu) then started giggling and comically gesturing
smoking a joint.
“Marijuana?” I
blinked.
“Bob Marley,” she
nodded.
“Wait a
minute! There is marijuana around
here?! WTF?! Why didn’t someone point this out
earlier?!!!” I roared, and then started
immediately researching all the scientifically documented healing properties of
cannabis—which much to my surprise, included the likes of PTSD treatment (very
useful in these parts!); relief from depression and several other mental
illnesses; nerve pain (neuropathy being a common symptom of HIV); nausea and
lack of appetite (which was common in both patients with HIV and TB-- lack of
proper nutrition prevents the absorption and digestion of medicines and
ultimately, most people die of starvation); to multiple cancer treatments and
therapy for Multiple Sclerosis (*which my mother happens to have.)
(Sound of angels
singing): I found the answer to
everything! *Douglas Adams just forgot to add a “0”!
“Oh NO, Miss
Kelly. THIS will not work.” One of my Grandmothers shook her head.
“What do you
mean?! Marijuana is practically the CURE
for everything out here! And it would
be FREE!”
“No. Only the “lazy boys” (slang for security
guards) and criminals smoke marijuana.
No decent person would risk being SEEN smoking marijuana, much less
buying or growing it. No.” She crossed her arms, looked me straight in
the eye again, “No.”
 |
| "No. This will not work." |
I tried for DAYS to
convince the Grandmothers (and four grandfathers) that “pot” was the answer to
most of our immediate healthcare problems, but they would not budge. Some were concerned about “being high” and
smoking in general, but most of all, they feared what the neighbors would
think—my response to THAT, “The neighbors are bloody dying, they are not
worried about someone smoking a doobie, I promise you!” I argued that
nutritious marijuana-medicine-infused meals could be easily prepared
(“edibles”) as an alternative to smoking.
“No. This will not work.”
“If I could only
get them to try it, I KNOW it will work,” I confided in Marcos.
“And how do you
expect to pull THAT off?!”
“Well..(lots of
thinking)…I am going to hold a staff appreciation dinner!”
Marcos’s response
to my controversial plan, “And you wonder why these people would want to kill
you?!”
Yes, indeed, my
friends, I invited my entire Grandmother (and four Grandfathers) League of
community-based caregivers over to my house for a special dinner to show my
appreciation for all their hard work. I
prepared a traditional Zulu meal (with chaka laka!) alongside some of their
favorite American dishes such as macaroni-and-cheese and mashed potatoes, with
chocolate brownies for dessert. By the
end of the meal, only 3 brownies remained on the plate.
I succeeded in
keeping everyone’s attention for almost an hour after dinner, individually
thanking each person on my staff-- when the giggles started. I don’t recall which Grandmother actually
started the giggles, but like a bush fire it spread through the group
rapidly—which turned into snorts and later, into a full-out sing-a-long. Taking advantage of the HIGHtened atmosphere
of camaraderie, I asked everyone, “How are you feeling?” -- as one grandfather
and one grandmother danced together in my living room. When the overwhelming response was happiness,
I confessed I spiked the brownies with marijuana.
 |
| The effects of pot brownies |
Dead Silence. *For
a REALLY long time!
Then a sudden
outburst of GIGGLES!
*THAT is when I
knew I won! Yes, a few weeks later, I
held a proper cooking class, preparing marijuana in vegetable oil (a common
ingredient in Zulu cooking) for 5 of my Zulu Grandmothers in my kitchen. These
5 Zulu Grandmothers would later teach the other Grandmothers (and the four
Grandfathers) and so on, until eventually our whole home-based caregiving staff
(as well as the people they treated), learned and benefited from the healing
properties of marijuana. There is no doubt in my mind that marijuana kept people alive and relatively well until we managed to procure some AIDS and TB drugs a few years later.
Kelly N Patterson
(aka, the Goofy Guru)
