How was it that my partner of 27 years, Jim Searle, the Stephen Lewis Foundation’s director of programs Aissatou Diajhate and I find ourselves being chauffeured through downtown Lusaka in the teeming Zambian rain a couple of years ago?
It was simply a case of, “Be careful what you wish for.”
Life had reached a point where I looked up one day and sighed to myself, “Another gorgeous frock finished. But what does it all mean?”
Or in the words of Karl Lagerfeld, “Life is not a beauty contest.”
And so, at a gala event later that day, I casually mentioned to the woman seated next to me that, in order to bring more meaningfulness to our lives, Jim and I were considering hopping on a plane to Africa somewhere to help build a school or dig a well or something. The comment was met with a raised eyebrow (I didn’t know eyebrows could raise quite that far). “I am not sure that that would be the best way to go about things,” the woman said.
She said that she ran a small foundation that helped people in Africa and that Africans wouldn’t know what to do with someone who just arrived on their doorstep. Another dream shattered.
The following week the woman phone and said, “Maybe you’d like to come in and see what we do.”
It was only when we arrived at the Stephen Lewis Foundation office that it dawned on me that the woman, Ilana Landsberg-Lewis, was the daughter of the man himself: Stephen Lewis, former United Nations special envoy on HIV/AIDS in Africa, former Canadian ambassador to the United Nations, deputy director of UNICEF and holder of more than 30 honorary degrees.
Wearing her trademark look of grassroots vixen (think lace, velvet and five-inch purple heels). Ilana explained, “The foundation was founded to get funds directly into the hands of grassroots community-based projects working to turn the tide of AIDS in Africa. The foundation has supported over 300 projects in 15 countries in sub-Saharan Africa, in many of the countries hardest hit by the AIDS pandemic.”
We’re talking about millions of people: children orphaned by AIDS and forced to live on their own (in what’s blandly called “child-headed households”), women infected by their husbands and then tossed from their house for being “unfaithful,” and the grandmothers who bury their adult children and then step in to raise the multiple orphaned grandchildren left in their care. Currently 22 million are living with HIV in sub-Saharan Africa, down from 28 million a couple of years ago... and not because anyone got better.
The work of the foundation with orphans and grandmothers struck a poignant note with me, as I was orphaned at 10 years old and raised by my awesome grandmother. Jim and I decide to do something. Phone calls to some two dozen fashion designers, a meeting with LG Fashion Week, some feverish calling in of favours, and we created an event where 25 fashion designers were given six yards of African cloth and told to create something fabulous. On Oct 23 last year, the closing night of LG Fashion Week, the Dare to Wear Love event was born, raising $40,000; we’ve got bigger plans this year.
Afterward, we decided that we really should go to Africa to see first hand what the foundation does. Armed with our Aeroplan miles and accompanied by Aissatou, we decided to visit about 10 projects in three countries, to get a broad understanding of the nature of what we were supporting, and to bring back fabric for the next Dare to Wear Love.
Back to Zambia
Bumping up the red earth road through lush green countryside, the executive director of Kara Counselling and Training Trust in Zambia, Judith Kumwenda (in her best suit-and-scarf combo — she was meeting fashion designers after all) fills us in.
One of many programs run by Kara, Umoyo is located on the western outskirts of the capital, Lusaka. Umoyo is a year-long residential school for orphaned and vulnerable girls 14- to 18-years-old. Most are orphaned because of AIDS, many are HIV positive.
“Training for income generation, literacy and numeracy is provided,” says Judith, “along with HIV/AIDS awareness and psycho-social training that is critical in assisting the girls to cope with their often difficult circumstances.
All the girls are actively involved in the day-to-day operation of the centre.”
We arrive at Umoyo and because it’s raining the staff has thoughtfully secured us gumboots. We are given a tour of the impressive facilities, the classrooms, kitchens, sewing and knitting classes (!), vegetable gardens, and the dormitories where the girls live. We are totally blown over when the carpentry teacher proudly tells us that all the furniture in the dorms was made by students, even the dormitories themselves. Finally we meet this year’s girls as they break for lunch.
We are left alone just to hang out and talk. They are very excited that we’ve come all the way from Canada just to see them. Jim breaks the ice by showing where Canada is located on the inflatable globe he had the foresight to bring, as well as a Canadian souvenir picture book. They must now think Canada is populated by Inuit, Mounties, grizzly bears and ballerinas.
Within minutes, it is a regular party with the girls singing songs (in every country we visited, singing is a huge part of people’s lives), showing us traditional as well as popular dance moves, and teaching us various words Nyanja (there are nine major languages in Zambia). The word for booty has us laughing and soon we are all in on a booty shake-off. The girls are all experts. Jim and I try not to embarrass our nation, making the girls howl with laughter.
With her ebony skin, 1,000-watt smile, crazy hair and twinkling eyes, Aissatou saves the day; she is a grand master. Taking on the best of the girls, she wiggles her “mataku” (new Zambian word!) all the way to the floor, back up and down again. The girls are in stitches. High fives all around.
Jim and I vow we’re going back to the hotel tonight to practice our booty shake. And learn a song.
The girls are multitasking, cooking lunch and finishing off their sewing projects. Lunch is mealie meal (think polenta) but they are making it for 53, in one pot. Some of the girls beckon us over to stir. It is impossible unless you know the technique. They try to teach us. We fail. More laughter.
We naively ask the girls to tell their stories on camera. They enthusiastically agree. We soon regret our decision as it is a litany of numbing horror: hunger, illness, death, loss of one or both parents or entire families. Many are victims of rape. Young girls are hugely at risk for sexual assault — often seen as “safe” in that they are less likely to be HIV positive.
It’s hard to believe that some months ago these girls arrived here withdrawn and non-communicative. They now show a great deal of camaraderie; it’s obvious that they draw strength and comfort from their shared experience. As Stephen Lewis tells us later, “It’s a testament to the tremendous work done by the staff that the girls seem trusting, confident and outgoing.”
A year at the school gives the girls skills they can turn into paying jobs, and also teaches skills like budgeting, nutrition (important in a country where as many as one in seven adults may be HIV positive), farming and entrepreneurship, so that they have a fighting chance in the world. After graduation the centre also helps girls secure further training and employment in their chosen field. They are also taught human rights, which are entrenched in Zambian law, but often traditional practices are insanely misogynistic. For example, women and children are routinely kicked out of their family house and stripped of all belongings when a husband dies.
The visit soon comes to an end; the girls must return to their studies. Picture taking, hugging, laughter and of course singing end the visit. The singing is so joyous and beautiful that it makes us tear up. The girls thank us for coming to visit. One girl speaks for everyone when she says, “It really makes us think that people care and love us even if we are living with HIV/AIDS quite far away.”
As the car lopes back down the road, I look back and the girls are waving and laughing. They have hope. Then how can Jim and I despair? We must hope, too.
Three weeks later, after traveling throughout southern Africa and visiting many more inspirational projects, the strength of the human spirit and the strength of community in dealing with these huge challenges is what impresses us most. And that we should sing more in our lives.
The Stephen Lewis Foundation faces unbelievable challenges but its impact on people’s lives is enormous. Now, for us, the real work begins.
CHRIS TYRELL AND JIM SEARLE The Dare to Wear Love co-founders have designed under the label Hoax Couture for the past 27 years. For more info, diary entries and video from their experience in Africa go to daretowearlove.com. This year’s event, on Fri, Mar 16, again closes Fashion Week in Toronto. A retrospective of original designs from the event is on now at the Textile Museum.
The original version of the story was published in the first issue of In Toronto magazine, May 2010. A change in online servers meant the original posting was no longer online.
