The Obligatory First AIDS Post

A week or so ago, my study abroad group hosted a bunch of local poets in our backyard and had a big blowout barbeque with every chicken part imaginable.

As it got later in the evening, a few of the poets came up to share their poetry with us on a makeshift stage. Many of the poems were about black consiousness, a movement of black self-love constructed by anti-apartheid activist Steve Biko.

One of the last poems was spoken by a short boy with dreadlocks and a spray-painted t-shirt. The poem started out about television and how it was killing South African culture, turning the population into mindless recipients. Passive. Mass mediated. Blah blah blah. Just another example of the kind of ideas that seem cliche to the American liberal mind, for whatever reason. Then the poem switched gears and became a call to arms against poverty. The boy with the spray-painted shirt ended the poem with the line, "the only thing positive about life is my status."

Although our study abroad group had ventured into many areas decimated by HIV, this was the first time I had ever heard someone proclaim their status to us. I was deeply moved by the boy's courage, and I wanted to talk to him after the show, and ask him about his life, about what it was like to 'live positively' in South Africa. I caught up with him just as he was getting his backpack to leave.

"So, are you receiving medication?" I asked him.

I wanted to know if this poet was one of the few HIV positive people in South Africa receiving anti-retrovirals from the government for free. A little while ago, George Bush established a program called PEPFAR that was supposed to provide free anti-retrovirals to people living with AIDS in "developing" countries. The program was criticized by the American left for it's emphasis on faith-based abstinence programs, but even its harshest critics agreed the program was doing a good job distributing the pills....basically the only positive global legacy in the eight years George Bush has been in office.
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Just a side note- pharamaceutical companies argue if they donate their pills to people in the developing world who don't understand when to take them, AIDS could mutate at a faster rate. But AIDS activists point to studies that show that poor people (obviously) know when to take their pills and how many to take, and say that pharmaceutical companies are not giving away their pills because they are afraid it's going to affect their bottom line. The companies are soulless, money-grubbing, government-aided monsters, the AIDS activists say, and I happened to agree with them at the time I was a youngin' at George Washington University. So my bias is against pharmaceutical companies

But that's neither here nor there. I am standing in a dimly-lit hallway basically asking this man if he's going to be alive in five years. I'm terrified of the response I'm going to get. I'm worried he's going to tell me he doesn't get the HIV medication for free, and on and on and I'm looking into his bloodshot eyes expecting to have one of those Big Study Abroad Moments where one sees the world in all its cruelty and sadness.

But wait, why is he smiling?

"No no no," he says, "That was just part of the song. I meant that the only thing positive about 'people in the townships' is their status. Because of AIDS. But, I wasn't talking about me."

"Okay, so you're tested and negative and everything," I say. I'm expecting him to be like "oh of course, I get tested every couple months" because that's usually what people, both gay and straight, say when I ask them in the states. And besides, this guy is in college and is thus comparatively richer than most of the people who live in Port Elizabeth, which is in the poorest provence of South Africa. He must get tested. How could you not get tested when you live in South Africa, home to more HIV positive people than anywhere in the world?

"No," he responds, "I'll get tested when I'm 50 or so and I already know I'm going to die."

I take a step back and breathe. Woah. Okay.

I knew there was a strong South African stigma against wearing a condom (I'd heard someone in a club say, in reference to wearing a condom; "why would I enjoy a candy with the wrapper on it?") but I did not know there was also such a stigma against getting tested. The first thing I think about is myself; I'm flabberghasted that he doesn't know his status, and doesn't want to know. I swear off sex altogether in South Africa, condom or no condom.

I am visibly shocked.

"Ohhhhh. Okayyyy." I say. "Well, that's one way to do it. But don't you think you should get tested, anyway, just to know?"

I look back into his eyes and suddenly realize why he doesn't want to get tested. Of course he doesn't want to know his status...if he finds out, there are no medications waiting for him; just a slow death, and shit loads of social stigma. I finally get why AIDS is spreading so fast in South Africa: without hope of survival, there's no point in getting tested. And if you don't get tested, you don't know your status, and if you don't know your status, you might have HIV and unknowingly infect people. Countless people.

When I get tested in the states, I know that if I am infected, it's going to suck, but I'm going to have access to medication. Yes, the medication will make me feel nauseous, and I'll probably get explosive diarrhea all over my bathroom floor, and it'll be harder to meet people who don't care that I have HIV, and yes, probably even in liberal liberal seattle I'll still experience some stigma (covert, blatant, whatever). Oh and my mother will have a kinipshin. BUT (and this is one big ass booty but) I'll have access to medication. It may be expensive, but it will keep me alive. So I get tested, knowing I'll have medication if I have AIDS, and knowing I can stay alive potentially for decades on medication.

But if I'm poor and broke and living in a country where HIV medication isn't readily available....I can understand why someone in those shoes wouldn't want to know their status. Still, I resolve to convince this boy to get tested.

"Come on," I say to him. " You just performed a poem about AIDS and you're not going to get tested? I just don't get it."

"No, man. I don't want to know," he says, as he's picking up his backpack. I shake his hand weakly, and he heads for the door to catch up with the rest of his group.

That's the end of the interaction.

Hopefully the next time he's thinking about how much he doesn't want to get tested, he'll see my horrified expression in his brain and think, "maybe it's better to know my AIDS status because this short jewish American boy freaked a shit when I told him I didn't know." I hope he'll think about that. I hope I can change the world, one pained expression at a time.

Other than this experience with this boy, I haven't really talked too much with people about their personal beliefs about AIDS. I get the sense it's not really something that people talk about, and I'm not working directly with people with AIDS so it doesn't come up all that often. Study abroad students are not allowed to work in health clinics, for obvious reasons, so that's a no....

But as an American, I have a lot of cultural clout, and I'm just starting to realize that I have the power and agency to talk about these things with people, and try to affect change.

I hope to lead a discussion about sexual health in the elementary school where I am working. I'm pretty sure the students already receive a sex-ed class led by the principal, but she told me she instructs the girls to "just close their gosh darn legs!" She's a nice Christian principal, and I'm not sure if she feels completely comfortable talking about sex juices and anal insertions and all that great stuff. But I have no problem talking about any of that shit, or putting a condom on a banana or whatever it is that sex ed teachers do. So yeah, I'll definitely show the kids how to put a condom on a banana and tell them, seriously, with my scared face, that they absolutely, positively must get tested. Fear; I can project that. No problem. I'm Jewish; it comes pretty naturally.

Sorry, Mom.

This was the obligatory first AIDS post. I'll be posting more about AIDS here in the future.