It seems appropriate that today, what is recognized as the 30th anniversary of what was to become the AIDS pandemic, that I’m in South Africa – the country that is home to more people living with HIV/AIDS than any other. Much of the media coverage on this anniversary has centered on the remarkable advances in the treatment of HIV/AIDS. It’s good to pause and remember just how far we have come from those early, very dark days when people were whispering about the “gay cancer.” It’s also important to acknowledge that not everyone has advanced equally on this issue.
Recently I was, what a surprise, on a two-day train journey, traveling from Pretoria to Cape Town on one of the luxury rail lines. At breakfast in the dining car one morning an elderly woman, a widow traveling by herself back to her home in a wealthy suburb of Cape Town, sat at table across from where I was sitting having coffee. We exchanged “good mornings” and talked about the train trip. After a few minutes we introduced ourselves and Violet asked me to join her at her table.
The septuagenarian was intrigued by my train travels and the places I had visited along the Shosholoza Meyl route. Violet provided colorful commentary and historic information about some of my stops along the way. Eventually, she said, “But what brought you to South Africa in the first place?”
I explained how I first came here, with board members from Open Arms in 2000, to attend the International AIDS Conference in Durban. Before arriving at the conference we spent a week in Guguletu learning about the impact HIV/AIDS was having in that township. I got no further than that before Violet interrupted me and said:
“You might find what I’m about to say callous, but be that as it may. I don’t give a cent to AIDS. Never have. Never will. You have to understand that those people have a sex drive that is different and they can’t be educated. We had no AIDS in Newlands (Violet’s neighborhood) until the black workers brought it in with them. AIDS is just a way of thinning the overpopulation. It’s actually not a bad thing. Now, orphans – that’s another story. But putting orphans with AIDS on medications. Absolutely not! Then we are going to have to take care of them for years. No. I have no interest in AIDS.”
I got over being shocked by comments like this long ago. It doesn’t even make me angry anymore. Rather, if I have the energy, I try to use this as an opportunity for a dialogue. Since I had been living well on a luxury train for nearly two days, I had some energy this particular morning and started to explain the complexities of HIV/AIDS. That in addition to it being a global health issue, that homophobia, racism, gender and economic inequalities had all played a role in the spread of a disease.
“AIDS is, after all,” I said, “a disease.”
At that, Violet raised her hand in a gesture that indicated she had heard enough.
“Bless you for what you are trying to do, but I have no interest.”
End of conversation.
I wished Violet a nice day and returned with my cup of coffee to my original table.
I had heard it all before, but Violet was especially harsh. Most critics, even if they think it, don’t actually say that children with HIV should be denied medication because it’s too costly to pay for drugs the rest of their lives.
Sipping coffee, watching the landscape pass me by in the dining car of the Rovos Rail, I thought about some of the people I have known who have died of HIV/AIDS. John. George. Jimmel. Charlie. Chuck. Mary. Martin. Beauty. Anneline. Gloria. Nombulelo. Lundi. And five-year-old Sibongile. At least Violet didn’t have to worry about society paying for little Sibongile’s medication for years.
It’s been a hell of a journey these past 30 years – or maybe it’s just been hell. People like Violet haven’t made it any easier.
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